"It isn't," Shiro replied immediately. "Or it shouldn't be. Compared to what some people have lost, or are carrying. I'm here. I'm fine. I think," he added, compelled to honesty even in this.

"But this body was... made, by my enemies. To replace me. It thought it was me. And I don't know how I ended up tethered to it, there are... pieces of my memory I can't quite get to come into focus. So I don't trust it. I feel like can't trust, every moment of the day, that I'm actually myself. Even though I know I am."

He risked meeting Altair's eyes, his own set with a deep, tired worry.

"Does that make any sense?"