(not the most flattering portrait, but a confident one that's leaving him a little breathless. he's so relieved, mirroring the smile with an uneven one that creases the lid of a mottled eye. pain doesn't exist for him now, connor's sure he's healed — he has to sit back to take the whole moment in and marvel.

his head weighs to one side, cushioning itself on the highest of the three separate pillows propping up his back and neck.)

You always knew it was possible and, despite your doubts, knew we'd rise up. Now it's a reality in at least one iteration of our futures.

...

I never did get to celebrate.