One arm moves away from him and Raju shifts to follow it, a part of him marvelling dimly at something like this happening without much conscious thought at all, at movement without having to push everything he has into forcing himself out of cowering. He tries to breathe and watches Francis touching his arm to his face, and looks at his face, the first time seeing it living after knowing he was never going to look on it again.

He notices his own tears only when one journeys far enough down through his beard to tickle at the corner of his lips and for an instant the old instinct tries to stir to stop it, find any way to hide it that he can — but the barracks and everything in them seem very long ago, and very far away, and it doesn't matter if he's caught at it now. What matters is Francis' hand, which he's let go of to turn and now clutches at again, and his other hand sets itself over Francis' chest so he can try to follow his friend's breathing. The door is at his back. It doesn't matter that the door is at his back. The deep down knowledge that he's about to die is gone, and he can see Francis' face.

"You're... still alive," he manages around his breathing, and makes a noise that starts life convinced it's going to be a laugh, and then isn't.