He recognized the voice and his heart sank further than it already had. It sank deep into the hollowness that was his gut, only just overshadowed by the throbbing ache - the ghostly pain of his missing leg. He didn't answer right away, his fist tightening in the sheet at his side, the stump of his leg drawing closer to his body as if he could hide the wound.

But he could not hide. Not from this.

Eventually training and honour won out, as he let out a hard breath and turned his head to meet his visitor's eyes.

He immediately regretted it, when he saw the look etched upon that face.

"... Wyatt."