And all at once Arthur's face goes blank, wiped clean of emotion like a slate. It's only subtle that he's feeling anything - the way his jaw trembles as he opens and shuts his mouth, how his chest has gone still from how suddenly shallow his breathing is.

This isn't neutral, John might just recognise, just because it's Arthur, because he's felt it from the inside. This is shock.

"No." It's quiet, a single trembling syllable - not denial, but uncertain, disbelieving. "It... it can't..."

It can't be, it can't be, John doesn't have a body, he's not a child, he's... it can't be. Surely.

But Jesus Christ, a part of him wants it to be.

And his voice is a whisper. "John?"