[Kratos flinches in turn at the shove, not just because of the emotions involved but because it feels raw on the newly-regained link. The catch of his breath, after, is because of that familiar creeping ache. They're both too familiar with that ache.

[He shakes his head once.]

I asked.

[Then he exhales slowly, trying to think of how to begin to respond to that. Yuan has to know Kratos doesn't blame him for that; after all, he'd agreed to it more than once. The ache isn't guilt. It's grief, pre-emptive; it's a wistful longing for a time when that wouldn't have been necessary. It isn't something that can't be assuaged except with time. In the end, all Kratos does is issue a wordless reassurance of presence, stronger than the quiet, passive linger which is the link's default state.

[I'm here. Alive. We'll be better, and I'm here.]