The last of the pain vanishes. His stump feels...heavy, like it's pinned by a weight, and there's a weird tingling below it like the phantom twitches he gets every so often.

But then it starts to resolve into something else, and Curtis' eyes widen.

It's not like all the deliberate direction of the test runs: think move, watch the fingers move, think lift and watch the elbow bend, like he's sending commands to some impersonal computer. He can feel the softness of the bed pressing against the lower half of his arm. If he concentrates, he thinks he can even feel the sheets. And over top of it --

Oh.

He doesn't have to think move, turn, grasp. His left hand turns over beneath Dejah's and catches her fingers in his, and he can feel every one of them, the pressure of her touch, the softness of her skin, almost everything.

The room blurs a little. He's beaming, so hard his face hurts, and his voice trembles for an entirely different reason when he whispers, "Oh my god."