He doesn't answer, for a long minute. Sponges dirt from Jim's scraped knees and pulls the light closer to spot any shards of embedded glass or debris. But he doesn't lie. Not to Jim. Maybe he should, should know the right words to make things easier for both of them. But all that's been stripped back in the emotions at work tonight, the last of his self-control lost the moment Jim was taken from him again. He's too raw to be clever. He might regret that.

"I don't know," he mumbles. "I don't know how you can even look at me now." How Jim can trust him to be here. The guilt is creeping back, the flashes of recall that have tormented him since he woke up in his childhood home. He remembers the last time they were together. Jim's exhausted and bloodied face looking up at him from the darkness. Standing on high and smiling down at his terrified anger. Drawing the blades...

"But I'm yours," he makes himself say. Forcing himself back to the present. Trying to reassure Jim even though everything looks bleak in his sight. "No matter what happens, I'll make sure you're okay." If Jim doesn't want him back, Felix will still be there for him in whatever ways he can be.