For all Meredith knows, it could be months, but she isn't going to say so, not yet, not until she's a little more sure. That he can make sounds at all, no matter how weak or with how much effort, is a good sign, but that isn't worth the telling either. She can't imagine he'd come even close to agreeing, and it's hard to shake the memory of the last time he couldn't speak. She can't bear that again, not now. The thought of it makes it impossible to go on with the attempt to pretend he's just another patient and anything else has to wait a moment as she drops her head lower, free hand pressed briefly to her mouth. "You're fine," she says, "you'll be fine, I — you scared the hell out of me."
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