Viktor feels Jayce's absence the minute it's gone--he thinks he'd like nothing more than to sit in bed together, even though he knows it's probably unwise. He'll be asleep again soon, anyway. That in itself is a strange feeling, knowing he has the luxury of spending all the time he needs resting. He thinks, finally, that he might allow himself to do it.

Jayce is only away from his side for a moment, but in that time he confirms what they hadn't dared to hope for. Sure, he'll want to see the data, but he also knows he can trust what Jayce is saying. There's no reason to lie, at this point, unless he's expected to drop dead within hours, and Viktor feels a marked enough change to believe this. By the time Jayce returns to his side, Viktor is gazing up at the ceiling, eyebrows pinched together, trying to hold back silent tears.

"Sorry," he manages after a moment, pressing the corner of the bedsheet to his face. "I just didn't think--"

He'd tried to be optimistic, of course, but had never been able to chase away the doubt. The fact that they've done it, to greater success than he ever thought they could, well. It's overwhelming.