The grief of loss only illustrates how important the friendship was, X remembers. He can't remember who first told him that. His father? By a certain point, it felt like something all of the readers simply knew, as intuitive and instinctive as the sky being blue or children needing love. With all of the other readers gone now, it's gotten harder and harder for X to handle the grief of loss on his own.

He's grateful the Fool doesn't finish that sentence.

The tears give way to a small laugh. "I had to speak to Devin," he says, the back of his throat aching for trying to speak in spite of those tears. "I can't stand by and watch wilful stupidity when there's such a simple way to help. I'm glad it worked. I'm glad that... seeing the two of you so happy -- most days, it's enough."

His gaze falls back to the twined knot in his hands. Before he can quite stop himself, he's imagining making knots of his own, for Luci, and Liz, and Timat, and Szandor. The thought doesn't hurt as much as he expected.

"So," he finishes softly, "you're welcome. I will always be here, for anything you need."