Will was struck by the desire to be the first thing she heard, when she said that. He reached out to her again - Imzadi - and reminded himself to keep doing it, over the next few hours, days--he'd do whatever he could do. It reassured him too. If she did recover her empathy, he'd know she was real. It wasn't that he was holding out until then - he pushed himself to believe it - but it was a flaw in their reality that he couldn't ignore, no matter how well meaning. She probably felt the same way: how could this be reality if she couldn't hear him? And as her husband, there was a rush of protectiveness that the realisation earned him. He had to set his own doubts aside for her, on the off chance that this was real. He couldn't let her down. And his actions so far had been doing just that.
It was decided, then.
"The least we can do is listen to what's out there, make contact if the locals are friendly."
He turned away from the thought for a moment, turning on the bench to look at her, his hand moving to her hip, the other settling against her cheek. "We're still together, Deanna. As long as we have each other, everything will be alright. We'll find a way out of here."