There was only one memory that was really strong as of late - the one that had been in his globe at new years. Watching Sister Helen die again had dredged up a lot of painful things he just wanted to ignore again, but his dreams hadn't been so kind lately.

Focusing on it, on the smell of charred, hollowed out buildings and burned skin and that coppery tang of blood in the air just made him feel queasy, and nothing happened with the damn candle. He handed it back to Claire after a time, shaking his head slowly.

"Sorry..."