[He's listening, at least. She rubs his back with one hand, because two would have required letting go for long enough to adjust them.]

Well. I'm no counselor, but.

I'm pretty damn sure you're depressed. I'd bet my pension on it.

[She pauses, remembering when she'd been a teenager, before she learned that army psychologists don't use the word 'depression' lightly.]

And I mean clinical depression. As in, brain chemistry. No matter how hard you tried, nothing fixed it, right? It's because you weren't just sad, Cam. Your body wouldn't let you be happy.