[A touch -- and Oswald stills, looking to Ed's hand and back to him, as though searching for an explanation. And he can feel himself threaten to crumble as his hand slowly goes soft all on its own, all of him wanting so badly to let go, to relax. To remember what it's like to feel safe.

His throat moves.]

Yes. [It's barely above a whisper.

A weak, belated attempt at a smile twitches his lips, there and gone.] And I believe that, together, we are destined to accomplish great things. More than we ever could on our own.