She missed the stars. At home, she'd been too wrapped up in her own hell to notice and then with Scott leaving she hadn't really cared to take stock of them. Now, with his head resting beside hers on the splintered wood of an old picnic table she's somehow drawn to them.

"He blames me."

She watches her breath form in front of her, watches it billow towards the tiny pin pricks of light in the sky. "It's easier than blaming himself, Scott. Deep down he knows it's not your fault."

"Yeah…I guess."

She tilts her head towards him, studies the lines of his face, the furrow of his brow. She wishes she knew the right thing to say to make it all disappear, his pain, his sorrow, his fear. He's come such a long way from that angry boy that had tried to run his second day at Horizon.

"It's not your fault Scott."

"I know," he replies, turning to meet her gaze, his breath warm on her face. "It's not your fault either, Shel."

She nods turning her head back towards the blanket of stars and wonders if this is what healing is supposed to feel like.