Strangely, it's none of the mental aspects that take up the two hours he's awake. It is physical suffering, the pain that keeps Neil from closing his eyes. The fever, the redressed stitches, the absence of matter in his brain-- Everything hurts. The source hardly matters at this point.

When there's movement against him, a face pressing lightly against his hot skin, Neil swallows down the need to whimper. He inhales slowly in preparation to speak. "You awake?" he asks.