[That wasn't Horatio's voice. Must be one he's imagining. No, someone's there, talking to him. It's a real voice; it's familiar, but he can't quite place it. Young. One of the mids? No, he's not there anymore. This is a real place, even though he doesn't want it to be. He closes his eyes again. There are no walls here. Everything is open.]
no subject
No walls. None. Don't...don't worry about me.