While it had been rough on everyone, and Lazarus had certainly had the most harrowing and dramatic apparent struggle, it isn't lost on him that madness has a way of liberating its sufferer from certain realities and responsibilities that caretakers have to deal with double-fold. Checking out meant that others had to check in, and "resting" from the world as others witnessed it meant running others ragged to the point of exhaustion. No one's struggle was superior... they were just different, and Lazarus recognizes it and dwells on it often. He's uncomfortable with what just a few off-kilter chemicals can do to him, reducing a levelheaded and emotionally invested genius to a tangled, broken mess of fear, anguish and doubt.

Feeling it's one thing. Seeing it now in Nathan inspires an infuriating kind of helplessness, and he gently rubs his back between his shoulderblades as if he's comforting someone who's just been ill.

"Who died?" he asks, keeping his voice quiet and gentle. "What is the SPK? I overheard some of what you were saying as I was approaching..."