When he'd said 'John Doe was no one to anyone', he hadn't been trying to isolate himself. He'd been talking about the name, the concept. How the freedom of being John Doe, unknown, unconnected, tied to no one and nothing by its very nature had its drawbacks, wondering if he'd set himself up for failure by clinging so fiercely to the name.

But Arthur isn't anyone else. Arthur is his other half. Arthur is who he chose, who has chosen him time and time again. More sobs follow the first as he sways a little, back and forth, clinging to him, swallowing as he tries to find the bottom of this pent up emotional response.

And slowly, the sobs turn from release to response, from letting out to drawing in. Love, golden and molten and overwhelming, flows out from the vacuum to wrap around Arthur, fierce and close.

Love you.