As the night wore on, Jamie lay on the cot beside Claire, still holding her limp hand in his own, seeking any form of connection with her. He had tried to hide his fear and pain from the others, but in the solitude of the room, the mask he wore for the world fell away. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, of being left without the light and warmth she brought into his life, but for now, the gentle rise and fall of her chest reassured him that she was still alive, still fighting to come back to him.