Yeah.

[And in retrospect, his reaction seems a lot more severe than it ought to be; he's seen worse, heard worse. Experienced worse. But he can't change how his body reacts, how the memories tear through his mental barriers and leave him- well, leave him like this. He feels so pathetic, but it won't stop his shaking, or the fact that when they fall into silence some small part of his mind is wondering where is my voice, can I cast, can I fight, is Teddy safe?]

He didn't... he didn't do anything. Not to us. But she- she said- she wanted him to get angry, because it got him talking, like that was worth the risk- like she was the one who had to do it, and I-

[I saw blades and smelled blood and heard screaming and everything stopped-]

I-I saw her end up like Hawkeye, and then I remembered Hawkeye, and then I remembered you, and then I couldn't- I-I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even think, I...

[He trails off, the words escaping him, and he buries his face against Teddy's shirt again, fighting against another rising panic. They're safe now, he doesn't need to be reacting like this. Teddy's okay. He's not hurt. He's here. We're okay.

But his heart's pounding like crazy and his lungs keep forgetting how to breathe and dammit, dammit-]