This is some kind of nightmare--and does he mean Ty, here, after a year on his own and both the smell and stain faded from the jacket? He's only glad he didn't wear it today: he doesn't take anything from home into the bunker, like there's something worse about it than home, like it could swallow them up.

Or does he just mean this: the weight of what it means to see Ty's face, healthy and without guile, a copy of a copy of a copy--

And he's just here, picking peaches, because the sky could fall and Tycho Rhodes would give him a look like ha, you see this shit? Then go pick up the pieces. Is it a nightmare because it caught him off guard, and he can't actually just leave him here? A dozen paces on, leaning to his booted side, Kira turns to look back.

He told Karen the blood was a misdirect, and fuck--it feels like a kind of violence to see him so shiny and new. Didn't even put the old scratches back on, and he drops a look to Ty's hip, but from the way he's walking--it's probably fine. Probably didn't even fucking happen.

Kira covers his face with his hands, rubs at his eyes, sighs. "Ty, please bring me my fucking shoe. I'll walk you back."