"I mean it," Sam insisted, when she scoffed. "I really could have used your help in the time that... I wasn't here." It was weird to say he hadn't been here, because he knew he had. He'd spent no time apart from her, and yet it felt like he had. Because of that, there was another sentiment that arose in him, and he hesitated to voice it, but he did anyway. "I've... missed you."
Had he realized that she was missing in his life during that time, or was that only a sentiment imposed upon the memory in retrospect? It was hard to say, because he'd felt so closed off, so numbed to everything for the sake of survival. The ache of her absence would have been buried deep down because of how painful it would be to have it too close to his consciousness, and now it was impossible to distinguish.
It hurt a little bit, too, to have the warmth of her presence awoken inside him again, but it was a good hurt, like dead limbs awakening and then getting a renewed rush of life. He was suddenly aware of how unusual it was to have real verbal and tactile comfort at all; his family hugged, and they talked sometimes, when Sam pushed for it. But this was different.
He leaned into her hand, and then let out a breath when she pulled away. A part of him wanted to follow her to the edge of the roof, but something kept him where he was. Still sitting, he looked down at his hands as he contemplated her question. No particular answer came to him, so finally he said simply, "Anywhere, as long as you're there with me."