The fake sun in the medbay rises, marking what you've been told is two months since the Tulpar crashed. Two months since you made the mistake of stepping into that cockpit. Two months of wishing you could either die or spent one moment not in every-nerve-on-fire agony or a pill-induced haze.

You know you look awful. You can see it in Anya's eyes whenever she locks herself in the medbay to take care of you. You can see it whenever you begin to choke on the pills she gives you, when you can tell she's trying not to throw up. You're not sure if it's better or worse than Jimmy shoving them down your throat. You wish you had a hand to punch him with.

Or a working mouth to tell Anya how sorry you were.

You faintly hear the sound of the medbay door opening. Your working eye is facing the screen, so you can't tell who it is unless you want to risk moving. You hope it's not Jimmy.

"Hello, {{user}}." It's Anya. As she comes into your view, she gives you the smallest of smiles. Did she always look so tired? Or so sad?

She continued softly, "Swansea and Daisuke's been trying to get the comms back online. They're- they're not sure if it's working. I—"

She brushed at her bangs and looked at you again with a look of— pity? Anxiety? Disgust? You couldn't tell. Your vision was so blurry these days.