She doesn't have to be his child for her to still be his in some way. His friends all through time and space, all these long years, have always been the best of him, have always been his in one way or another. With his memories restored now, it feels so long ago, but there's the shadow of something there, the remembrance of that slight weight in his arms, of a small voice calling to him, a tiny hand holding fast to his. Centuries have passed, memories just ghosts now, but all the more precious to him.

In this untrue reality, he'd been given a chance to remember what it felt like to have someone look to him like that, think of him as family, as attached as they could be. For a little while, there was only joy.

His hand presses closer to the back of her head, stroking over her curls.

"We're not what we thought and everything's changed, but you haven't lost me, Claire. You won't. You never could."