Jim tugs a little at her fist. He's distracted, too, all his attention on the tiny fingers closed around his. He knows, logically, he was once this size, and his mother and others had to help take care of him. But he can't get his mind around it.

And then he wonders if his father felt the same way with Sam. And if, in those last handful of moments, any part of him felt cheated that he wouldn't relive any of this with Jim. Was it enough to know Jim would live, even if he wouldn't be there for any of it?

He shakes his head a little, forcing his attention back to the present moment. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. What else does she need? Things to play with?"