The thing was, he didn't know what 'normal' was. This was normal to him. Well, it was before he was committed. Coping, getting by, charging forward, ignoring whatever was bothering him - that was normal, had been normal for the last however many years. What would 'getting back to normal' be? He didn't know. That scared him. The thought of losing himself to, well, himself. He frowned slightly, troubled by the thoughts racing through his head, and his frown deepened when Cuddy leaned up to kiss him.

He closed his eyes and mentally tried to find some comfort in Cuddy assuring him that she'd be there no matter what. How could he be reassured, though, when he was facing the unknown? His eyes stayed closed even as Cuddy drew back from him, until she spoke again. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at her, drained and stressed and tired. Yes, that was how he felt - weak when he needed help, like a failure because he'd reached this point. He felt anything but courageous. He wasn't used to feeling so helpless. That, too, contributed to how afraid he felt.

He gave Cuddy no indication whether her assumption was right or wrong. In fact, he didn't know how to answer her at all. He let out a quiet, frustrated sigh and looked down before lowering his eyes to where her hands were on his chest. Her hands were warm through the material of his sweatshirt and t-shirt. Warm and real and loving.

He suddenly wished she could pay conjugal visits, if only so he could be with her in here for longer than just an hour or two. He hated the fact that she was seeing him like this, in this setting, weak and vulnerable... but he also needed her. And he didn't know how long he was going to end up in here.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," he murmured.