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His eyes still show her fear, and terror, and all that loss, but there’s something else there too, as she tries to soothe her. Absently, she knows he’s feeling this too, all this agony, because of course he is. She can’t think about that now, though, because it’s taking a distinct amount of concentration now to stay awake, to keep upright, to keep breathing, in and out. It hurts to breathe, now, but she knows she has to. She’s always survived, hasn’t she? That’s what she’s doing here— fighting. Surviving.