[Part of Jill still bucks at the notion of being worthy of someone else's pride. Though the light of the Hideaway is among the brightest she's ever known, it doesn't cast away all the shadows within which the ghosts of her past still thrive, their hauntings so familiar now that she wouldn't know how to feel in their absence. That part of her is growing increasingly small, however, and she has the power not to let it show – a power that's bolstered by her urge to ground at least these early moments of their reunion in the six years they'd shared rather than the eighteen years that they hadn't.

So again, she doesn't speak right away after Joshua does, instead absorbing all the warmth and fondness and familiarity with which their embrace provides her before it reaches its inevitable end.

And when he pulls away with a smile, so too does she. Where she diverges is in what she does with her own hands. Reaching up, she takes hold of Joshua's, then lowers them between them, releasing her hold only to establish a more natural clasp.]

It's all right, Joshua. You let us know that you still lived when you could, and it was enough to breathe new life into us both.

[Clive especially, though not from a lack of love on Jill's end. No matter if or when or how Jill's relationship with Clive evolves, she knows the love the two brothers share is something special – transcendental, even – and she can already see the ways in which he's starting to change simply from having his brother within arm's reach once again.]

Given that, and what you've done to protect us both, I hope you understand that if you're ever in want of anything, you need only speak it, and we'll see it through.