[It may speak to his remembered fragility of her, that he does manage to get them over to that couch. He lifts his head from her shoulder, just so he can look at her again, because he'd had plenty of pictures of course but it's different, seeing her here, in person, whole and alive and not still and pale and thin and weak in a bed. The memories had faded, no matter how tightly he tried to cling to them.

Little too late to act as though he hasn't lost her. Failed step one of surprise time travel.

He smiles, tears still streaking down his cheeks.] I've missed you so much, Mum, I-- I don't know what's happening but-- You look-- younger, what-- How old are you? How old-- was I?

[A strange thing to have to ask your mother but, here we are.] I want to tell you everything, there's so much that's happened, I mean, not what's happening now, I don't know what's happening now, I just mean-- in general. With my life. [It was a constant ache, every life event tinged more grey with the realization she wasn't there to share it with.]