He watched Cuddy lift his hand to her cheek and though he wasn't one for sentimentality in any shape or form, Cuddy saying she always missed him when he was gone was the best thing she could've said right then. He'd had a lot of time to think over the past week - or to try and not think - and the future of his relatonship with Cuddy had been one of those things that had been on his mind. It had been such a crazy week, with a crazy turn of events and he and Cuddy hadn't really gotten a chance to really talk much since their weekend away. After all the hurt he'd caused her, he really didn't know what state he'd left her in. It was reassuring to know that, in spite of everything, she still loved him.

He lowered his eyes to her belly and managed the first almost smile since Cuddy had arrived. Probably the first almost smile since he'd arrived at the hospital a week ago. "You don't honestly believe that," he replied, giving Cuddy a skeptical look.

He eyed her stomach again, then untangled his hand from hers and placed it on her belly. He rubbed it as though he was caressing the baby. A month. This kid was going to be born in a month. And he was in here, classed as officially 'mentally ill'. He expected to feel panicked and anxious, typical feelings he got about the baby, especially so close to the due date and because of the current circumstance he was in.

But maybe his drugs really were deadening him because he felt strangely... empty more than anything. Empty. Silent. Dead. He slowed the caresses to a stop, then dropped his hand away and looked over at the window instead. He squinted at the mid-afternoon sunshine glaring through the glass. He felt so... lifeless.

"Maybe I'll be out of here by the time the kid's due to be born," he said a little distantly.