[ He's standing in the doorway, pale. Luckily he's rinsed out the sink, so it no longer smells like vomit, but. When she arrives, he points to the console, where there is a still of him, stumbling across the room. ]
[Bobbie hesitates for just a second, torn between checking on him and watching the video, but then she decides to let him be. She focuses on the console instead, intentionally blocking his view so he won't be tempted to watch it with her. It's obvious how it's affected him.
It must only take a few minutes, but whatever this is, whatever happened to him, feels excruciatingly long. At first, she's not sure what she's seeing, as though her mind refuses to process it. It's visceral and stomach churning, and though she refuses to let her horror show on her face, she can't stay entirely stoic—her jaw clenches and her hands ball into fists. By the time he starts to recover, she's torn between crying and puking and punching the wall. She manages to just turn the video off instead, and the only response she can force out is under her breath and useless.]
[She closes her eyes, takes a breath, and tries to get her emotions under control. It doesn't quite work, but she turns to look at him anyway. He's breathing. He's alive. She doesn't understand it.]
You're okay. It happened, but you're okay.
[Bobbie's not entirely sure if she's saying it to reassure herself or him.]
[ When she turns to look at him, his eyes finally slide away, almost ashamed. His hands have started shaking, again, so he gripped them in front of himself, almost wringing them out. ]
... Gunny, I have no idea how the hell I'm even here.
[Before she can think better of it, she reaches out to touch his clasped hands, in part to keep them from shaking and in part to remind herself that he's still warm.]
I... I don't know. There has to be an explanation.
[ Even with her holding his hands, they still tremble - it isn't something he has any control over, and he looks queasy. He stares at her hands instead of at her face.
He is perfectly warm, has a normal pulse. Hell, even has a healed arm.
But he shouldn't.
He should be dead. ]
I watched it, Gunny. I didn't take a single breath for seven hours. I was a husk. I felt it happenin', and I just--
[She can imagine him, in the room alone, watching the entire thing, and it makes her angry all over again. Angry that it happened at all, but more than that, angry that she wasn't there.]
It's this damn station.
[He's right. There's no way he should be alive, and she has no explanation for it. Her grip on his hands tightens, trying to quell the trembling.]
Like the walls sucking people in. Nothing about it is normal.
[Bobbie's been trying to stay relatively calm, but that possibility is too much for her, and she scrubs her hands over her face, trying to wrestle her emotions under control again.]
We don't know if anything is still keeping you alive. It could have been one and done.
[ Watching Bobbie scrub at her face is enough to drag him out of his own self pity, suddenly worried more about her than he is about himself. If he's a dead man walking, that's what he is. But he can't drag the crew down with him. So he sucks in a breath, straightens out. ]
Yeah. It ain't worth theorizin' over. Just - thought you should see it.
We'll just make sure no one gets caught alone, like that. We'll be alrigh'.
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It's on there. The whole thing.
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It must only take a few minutes, but whatever this is, whatever happened to him, feels excruciatingly long. At first, she's not sure what she's seeing, as though her mind refuses to process it. It's visceral and stomach churning, and though she refuses to let her horror show on her face, she can't stay entirely stoic—her jaw clenches and her hands ball into fists. By the time he starts to recover, she's torn between crying and puking and punching the wall. She manages to just turn the video off instead, and the only response she can force out is under her breath and useless.]
God damn it.
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It all god damn happened.
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You're okay. It happened, but you're okay.
[Bobbie's not entirely sure if she's saying it to reassure herself or him.]
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... Gunny, I have no idea how the hell I'm even here.
That ain't -
It wasn't just in my head. I should be dead.
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I... I don't know. There has to be an explanation.
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He is perfectly warm, has a normal pulse. Hell, even has a healed arm.
But he shouldn't.
He should be dead. ]
I watched it, Gunny. I didn't take a single breath for seven hours. I was a husk. I felt it happenin', and I just--
[ He clenched his fists tight. ]
It ain't right.
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It's this damn station.
[He's right. There's no way he should be alive, and she has no explanation for it. Her grip on his hands tightens, trying to quell the trembling.]
Like the walls sucking people in. Nothing about it is normal.
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Yeah.
Just now, I ain't normal, either.
[ The trembling is slowly receding, and he swallows, looking down at their hands. ]
Makin' it real hard to feel real at all. Like some - damn science fiction story--
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[At least, that's how she felt.]
But you're real. You're okay. Something just... brought you back.
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Yeah. I just hope this ain't- this ain't some protoshit-- [ He cut off, letting out a hard breath. ]
Brought me back.
[ He looked like he was going to be sick again, but instead he just took his hands back from hers, folding them across his chest. ]
We just gotta find a way to get the hell outta here, and hope that leavin' doesn't undo whatever the hell it is that's keepin' me alive.
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We don't know if anything is still keeping you alive. It could have been one and done.
[It's fine. It has to be fine.]
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[ Watching Bobbie scrub at her face is enough to drag him out of his own self pity, suddenly worried more about her than he is about himself. If he's a dead man walking, that's what he is. But he can't drag the crew down with him. So he sucks in a breath, straightens out. ]
Yeah. It ain't worth theorizin' over. Just - thought you should see it.
We'll just make sure no one gets caught alone, like that. We'll be alrigh'.