"It's all right," Greta insists, holding him close, waiting for the trembling to cease. It has to, eventually. "I... I've been the bait, too." The admission makes her grimace, as if the words taste sour. "I know how it feels."

She doesn't know how this feels - watching the set trap go off without a hitch, knowing that you're a crucial piece of the machinery and that it wouldn't have worked without you, your very existence a kind of betrayal - but she can imagine.

Greta sighs, then resumes rubbing Jay's back. She can do this, she can take care of people. It never would have occurred to her to think of it as a skill, but maybe it becomes one when no one else is in a position to do it. "I'm here to help," she says quietly, leaning back enough to look at him. "I don't mind." As if, after all he's been through lately, the real hardship is putting up with him. She lifts a hand and smoothes back his hair, a wry, deliberate echo of that dream, when she'd unthinkingly miscast him as Jack. She would have taken care of the lad, if things had been different; she can step in for Jay's mother as well. It's probably what she would have wanted, too. "All right?"