Her smile in this moment cuts harder than anything he's ever felt before, harder than the first coming back to consciousness, harder than the (shorter than it should have been) time in physical therapy, harder than coming home and finding their quarters emptied of her things.

Not long ago at all he would have been able to tell if it was her fake smile for the benefit of everyone who'd always doubted her or the real one meant for him. He couldn't anymore, couldn't read the one person who'd always been able to communicate with him, knew only that it hurt and she was smiling about it.