There's no comfort that will fix this, no reassurance that will make it better. Only time. Dimitri wishes he didn't know that so well.

He keeps talking, anyway, a rolling repetition of nothings -- it's alright, I'm here, I have you, we're safe -- because they need to be said, regardless of whether or not they're heard. He holds Darcy close, and rubs their shoulders, and sways with them while they sob. That much, he means: I'm here. And he will be, as long as Darcy needs him. As long as it takes.