Strange to think, but with everything he'd been through in his two-and-a-half months as a human, this is the first time Delta's cried. He doesn't fuss or tantrum about it, just quietly gets York's shirt wet and shivers against him into his warm embrace, but it's there nonetheless and having someone to take on that pain is...very comforting. It doesn't last terribly long, not by the standards of such things, but it's long enough to clear up that murky mess of emotions.

Let go.

He lets Omega go, the angry yet unsure figure who never had enough time to adjust to being human, much less to find his own place. He lets Sigma go, never having had time to learn if he would be a good painter or terrible. South--South doesn't have the power to hurt him anymore, not here, not anywhere, and if North can let her go so can he. And the other York. Unscarred in face but tormented by the knowledge that he'd never live to get more than a glimpse of life here. Who'd taken some of his own limited time to say he was glad to see Delta making a life for himself here. Who maybe, despite everything, could have ended up making it through the war alive instead of killed, except that he hadn't been taken from his own time at all but made a copy of here only to die anyway.

Finally his breathing steadies out and he sends a thin yet pure strand of gratitude over the link. "Thank you."