Work Text:
She wasn't sure if she had imagined it
A flash of light, a color she could barely recognize anymore - was it… orange? Or yellow? Something bright, and something not the gray and white and dark blue she had only seen for the past three months.
It was hope beyond hope, but she thought that maybe - just maybe - they had found a way. HE had found a way.
So she struggled forward, not even noticing the pain she had gotten so used to, desperately praying to a God she barely believed in that what she was dreaming of was a reality, not just a fever-induced hallucination.
And then, their fingers met.
The world stopped.
Everything she had endured became a meaningless thing of the past.
The hand that she had been craving for endless months was there, only for a split-second, but it was the only second that had been clear to her in a long time.
She knew that even if it never happened again, she would treasure that contact and those slipping fingers for the rest of her (short) life on that planet.
But then he screamed, and she struggled forward again, army-crawling towards the man so desperate to find her that he would risk trapping himself there.
And then a jerk in her stomach, the same nauseous feeling that she remembered from her arrival to this planet. Everything was the same frigid daze that she had been in except for him. That hand - that wonderfully, beautifully, amazingly familiar hand - was still there, and she held onto it with everything