[She lets him retreat. Shuts her eyes to keep the sting of it all out as her hand settles wearily at the center of his back. Points of contact that feel razor-sharp and grounding all at once.]
I can't leave because I am not alive, John Crichton. [She'd realized it when he'd handed her the mask. When memories came flooding back like frigid water and snapped all the pieces of the puzzle into place.]
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I can't leave because I am not alive, John Crichton. [She'd realized it when he'd handed her the mask. When memories came flooding back like frigid water and snapped all the pieces of the puzzle into place.]