[The cane falls, and Vakama lets his arms hold the other steady. His heart is less of a thumping behind the warm plate of his armor and more a steady thrum, a power source in constant steady flux just like the beating of blood - increasing, in turn, at the words that leave Viktor's mouth, breath firm against his shoulder.

An unspoken protest.

No. No, do not let yourself be taken by that doubt. Do not let that maw of despair eat you alive as the only option left in your sights.

...]

Please... don't speak so of yourself.

[It's surprisingly weak.]

I know it feels as though... it is the only way to make things right. I have stared that beast in its jaws, too.

But I do not want to think of where we would be - where I would be - if you were not here.