What is his heart doing? It's stuttering, vibrating in his chest and slamming him into inactivity. This would be the cruelest trick of Trench yet. Holding out something he's wanted since he woke, something he'd berated himself for wanting, for losing. But there it is.

There he is.

Covered in sand and salt and running on legs that look fit to give out. Say something, his brain is screaming, his heart is screeching. But all he can do is take a step forward.

Step forward and catch that familiar weight in his arms and hold on with every ounce of strength left in him. The sobbing relief in his voice almost too cracked to identify as a name.