A few deep breaths. He can do that. A few deep breaths. He closes his eyes, focuses on that, focuses on the fact that he can feel her close by and that somehow they can think and walk and breathe, deep breaths, deep breaths.

Neal leans forward slowly until his head rests against her collarbone. He wants to sleep. He wants to just sleep until all of this goes away. Check out of this reality, hop a plane back to New York.

"I'm cold," he finally says, realizing it for the first time. He straightens slowly, starting to feel... something. More alert. More like he stood inside his own skin instead of watching someone else pilot it. He wasn't sure that made him feel better. He touches his torso with one hand, then with both, yanking his shirt up to look at unmarked, unbroken skin. "Did that really happen? Did that actually happen?"