"This isn't your fault," Carlisle chokes out; he leaves off his usual bout of self-blame, though it is apparent through his heavy tone. Why hadn't he been able to wake Glacius? He asks himself that for the umpteenth time; the answer is always the same. He wasn't good enough. He should have done more.

He buries himself against the alien, afraid to let go of him for fear that he'd vanish. "I d- don't want you to make it up t- to me," he murmurs as he struggles to catch his breath. "I just... want you to be. I fear you are a figment of my mind l, that I will awaken on the floor and find you stolen from me once again. I- I don't know how they took you from me so quietly. I slept f- for only a moment, and you were gone. I- I should not have closed my eyes."

Even Carlisle seems to realize how impossible a task that is, but his frustration knows no end when it comes to his own doubts.