The relief that rushes through him escapes him in a sharp release of breath. Nothing there that shouldn't be. It's just a bloody mess. That's a better diagnosis than he'd hoped for. But a mess is still a mess, and Jack's offer hangs in the air for a moment. He grasps Jack's shirt tightly in his hands.

"My crap shields aren't down, they're shattered. Gone. I don't remember how to build them, and I was never very good at any of it. You can— I'd like it cleaned up, but I don't know how long I can handle this, Jack." Because even though it's Jack, and Jack is warm and welcome, there is still a foreign entity in his mind and he isn't used to it. Like all new things out of one's comfort zone, the anxiety may eventually get the better of him and he'll have to call it quits.