Maine's lips twitch up at the corners, but it's a sad sort of smile. Melancholic. Regretting that he wasn't there for Wash, even if he doesn't know the reason.

Shit, maybe he really does die. Maybe that's why Wash pulled a gun. Maybe he thought he was looking at a ghost.

Maine can't say, I missed you, too. Because for him, no time has passed. He knows Wash is safe where he's from, off with the Sarcophagus while Maine works to retrieve the briefcase. And Maine is safe, too, not yet bearing whatever wound causes his throat to scar.

Instead, he reaches out to thump the backs of his knuckles against Wash's bicep, a gentle tap to say, I got your back.

"Here now," he says. And here he intends to stay, for as long as Wash and Carolina need him.