She grabs him by the wrist to stop his busywork with the pillows, needing his attention as she speaks.

"What makes y'think we could be happy?"

Her eyes are pleading with him for an answer, free hand lightly resting on the bicep of his other arm in case she begins to feel too unsteady.

"After everythin' that's happened, Doc, and now this. Maybe there's a reason you been gone ten years. You know? Maybe it's a sign. Maybe y'really wanted t'leave me b'hind."