"Oh, no, Fitz." She breathes the words, her brows furrowed together. Her own worries have just vanished. They've vanished, and it didn't matter what'd happened with her, the decompression or anything else. "I'm so sorry I wasn't... God. Are you-" She moved closer to him. "How long has it been, for you?" That's the soft question, because she blames herself. She blames herself - a self that's not even her - for not being better. For letting him down.

But she just has to know. She has to know how long it's been, because then she'll know about his recovery, and if it's permanent and who he is now, because there's no way anyone who has gone through that wouldn't be affected. She knows she's going to have residual emotional affects from what happened, as well as the physical affects.