Ben's body stiffened as she went to the crib and picked him up in spite of what Ben had said. He would have been willing to take a step back if she'd suggested it, simply because she was Elliott's mother and would have known best, but rather than accepting that same rational for stepping forward he felt a flash of irritation. She was explaining about how well he slept, as though that had been the actual issue and not just what Ben had said to deflect from the issue. Maybe she really hadn't understood what he'd meant, when he'd stepped back, or maybe she was only pretending not to have understood in order to force this in the direction she wanted it to go, rather than what he wanted.

"No, he's not," Ben said firmly, not reaching to take Elliott from her. "Not in the way you mean." He could come here and interact with Elliott and form a relationship with him, sure. He'd loved having a chance to do that before and would have wanted to do it again, as often as the opportunity presented itself. But a moment like this wasn't about Elliott, or their relationship. It was just about Ben. His feelings, his thoughts, his comfort. The fact that he could die soon. The appeal of being able to hold on to someone small and precious for a moment to feel grounded. Elliott wasn't a thing to be used, or a means to an end, and it felt morally wrong to try and seek that sort of comfort in a child he'd only barely started to get to know. He wasn't Elliott's parent. He hadn't earned a moment like this.

"I think I should go," he said abruptly.