I think it took a moment to decide if it was really James or someone who just looked a lot like him and then he got closer and Thomas couldn’t believe his eyes until he’d stared at him for a minute and he didn’t turn into some kind of heat mirage. After all, James has changed a lot over the years and Thomas hasn’t had a portrait to stare at, even a bad one.
What decisions have you made about what our tomorrows will be?
I made arrangements to ensure that when we leave here, it is with compromises in place that would defuse any threat of widespread rebellion.
All this will be for nothing.
Fandom’s common image of not-dead Thomas: pale and thin, ghastly from surviving in an asylum, leaning on James for support in his weakened state.
Canon not-dead Thomas: fucking shredded from working day after day in a labor camp, squeezing James up in his huge arms and carrying him off into the sunset.