Jack knew that Reinette's words were meant to provide a comfort for him. So he couldn't tell her then that those times were worse. Silence, utter silence. Because then, oh then he could really think.

Even the Hub had never been silent. There was always the sound of an computerised bleep somewhere, a whir from Mayfanwy as she flew around above, or the constant drip of the nearby water, leaking organic through the building.

Silent was alone. Painfully alone and the only noise then was his thoughts. His mind unleashed on thought and memory.

He nodded, and smiled though it was tight lipped. It wasn't so much an agreement as a refusal to argue. He doubted he'd sleep at all, that night.

"Rest well, Jeanne-Antoinette," he said softly, touching his hand to hers just momentarily before adding, "I'll still be here in the morning."