[ She hears it in his tone, the calm finality of it. For how long Sciel's known Gustave, he has always been a man of emotion, of heart. That's what she loves about him, what she's missed for this time. It had never been the same with him gone - not for them, not for Maelle. There's so much she wants to say and she finds this, too, is the weight of grief.

How often had she hoped to see Pierre again, only to shy away from such a thought, knowing she'd have to explain...everything to him?

Sciel comes to join him, kneeling down in front of him so she can reach out and touch his hands. Hers are roughened from so many years in the fields; his one the cool touch of metal. She looks up into his face with what could pass for a smile on anyone else, small at the edges. For her, it's just reflex. ]

No, it doesn't.

[ The words are damning, tight, painful. For all of her hope and elation now that he's here, breathing-- This is the truth. Gustave is lost to them, lost to her. One more she's had to let go of. ]

I'm sorry, Gustave. [ Her eyes are on his face. ] We were going to climb back up. That creature came back to fight us again and kept us from helping you.

[ They wouldn't have succeeded anyway, not with that man there. Not then. But the helplessness is what stings the most, even now. ]