Neal tries to get himself to relax, tries every trick he knows, but it isn’t until he imagines Malcolm holding his hand in the precinct bathroom while they breathe together that it starts to work. That image, that memory, that helps.

He doesn’t realize it’s the first time he’s thought of this Malcolm first, for comfort. “I do know. It’s what I do too.”

More or less. Tangentially. Another deep breath. Neal strokes his cheek. “It’s not the risk, it’s that I wasn’t there to take it with you.”