"For a limited definition of talked about." Don watches Raph carefully, trying to gauge how bad the news is. "You and Leo were evasive for a while, and then you made me go back to sleep. In the morning when I asked you again you just kept changing the subject."

Raph won't meet his gaze. Don rubs his own eyes with thumb and forefinger, and sighs. "I know. The timeline. You can't tell me the future." A thousand fears, an overwhelming need to know, well up in him. "Just... just tell me I'm still me, where you come from."