Her fingers curl in return, and she fixes him with an inexplicably sad look, briefly. What is there to go back to? Bad times, good times, worse times. She knows more than she wants to, wants to know more than she does. What she needs is a reassurance, more than the thin and gleaming promise that he'll fix things.

But here, now, there's nothing to fix; Cameron would worry as much about the future without the hints she's heard, she knows she shouldn't get ahead of herself. It's cold, but it's a beautiful night. It doesn't matter what happens a year from now, two years, because what will happen in the next ten minutes is a mystery, still within her sphere of influence. She takes a sharp breath.

"I try not to think about it," she answers, truthfully. "What happens here can't logically influence reality. Our reality. Home. Real or not... I don't know what I believe, but I think the best we can do is treat it as its own experience." A pause. "The good and the bad."