Maybe that explains some of the chaos gnawing away at him. Daniel didn't glean any sense of incompleteness when he'd tried to repair him, or fix him, or heal him, or however he chooses to define it. But then, he didn't recognize any of what he came across, so he'd have no way of knowing.

He watches the hand stretched toward him with an almost wistful regret. Intangibility has its uses, but until he can figure out how to physically manifest it's more or less permanent. And while presenting himself like this is handy for communication's sake, it's not exactly practical or sustainable for very long. He has no idea how long his tenuous connection to his own shape will last, and it feels like it's growing harder to maintain the longer he holds it.

"What won't?" he asks, caught between curiosity and trepidation. "What's - what's ending?"