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She was screaming.
Emma was screaming and Paul had no idea what to do.
“Emma!” The nurse ran in. “Emma, it’s okay, they’re not here,” the nurse, pulled Emma away from Paul, who took a step back in return, unsure what he was supposed to do in this situation. Emma was breathing heavily, her hands over her ears, no longer screaming, but sobbing uncontrollably as the nurse whispered reassurances into her ears, her hands gently place on Emma's shoulders.
It took almost five minutes for Emma’s breathing to return, at least somewhat, to normal, she looked around the room anxiously, and seized up when she saw Paul, her eyes glazing over as he stepped towards her slowly.
“Emma?” He said, carefully, his hands raised slightly, "are you okay?"
“No no no, you’re one of them,” she muttered, shuffling backwards, pushing the nurse away from her, "you both are, you're, infected!" She looked around, probably for a weapon due to the fact that when she saw nothing close, she pulled off her shoe, raising it threateningly, "I will throw this at your head so hard that blue shit will fall right out of you!" She growled, though the fear was evident in her eyes, and by the way she was shaking so violently the shoe looked more like a black blur than anything else.
“Emma, please, it’s me, I promise, I’m not infected,” Paul almost begged, opening his arms to her, though he didn't risk taking another step forwards, worried he'd frighten her even further.
“Paul?” Emma said, her voice shaky, eyes glimmering with hope.
“Yes, Emma, it's me. We made it," he choked back a sob as the events of that day played in his mind again. His friends and his home were all gone, everything he'd ever known, everything except for Emma.
“It’s, it’s really you,” she said, “you made it out!” Tears welled up in her eyes. She pushed herself up off the floor and all but ran into Paul’s arms. “I thought you were dead! They said no one made it out of Hatchetfeild! But you’re really here,” she smiled into his shoulder, burying his face, and he quickly felt the hot, wet tears stain his shirt, and he just pulled her closer.
“I’m here Emma, don’t worry, I won’t go again,” Paul said, resting his head on hers, "I promise.".
They stood like that for a while, time not mattering much to either of them. They were alive, they had each other, and that was all that mattered. In the week or two since the Hatchetfield disaster, the only people they’d had contact with were nurses and PIEP soldiers, it was good to see a familiar face, especially one with history. Once they finally pulled apart, they were both smiling, weak, pitiful smiles, with puffy eyes and red cheeks, but they were smiles all the same.
Emma was about to take another step forwards to embrace Paul once more, but hissed in pain, almost collapsing as the muscles in her thigh seized up.
Paul reached out, grabbing her shoulders, gentle but firm, making sure she didn't fall. “Emma, your leg,” he said, wide eyed, staring at the bandages, "is it…"
“It’s okay," she promised, holding her hands up in mock surrender, "just a bit stiff, doctor said I need to stretch it though so," she gestured down to her standing, "no wheelchair for me I guess."
“Come on,” he helped her hop over to the chair in the empty hospital waiting room. The nurse had left a while ago at that point, most likely to talk to the soldiers about therapy appointments in Colorado, and there was no one at the waiting desk, though there were a lot of cameras, all pointing directly at them, moving as they did. On one hand, Emma and Paul knew they were in a secret facility, barely known to even the highest rank of government, but they also knew it was to monitor them for the virus. In the past week they had been poked, prodded and examined thoroughly for any blue goo, while also being monitored 24/7. On one of her first days there, when she was deemed safe to walk, Emma had started humming while brushing her teeth, and watched in the mirror as the agent in her room quietly reached for his firearm.
She stopped humming after that.
“How are you alive?” Emma asked, staring into Paul’s eyes. “The meteor blew up, you couldn’t have been too far away from it, you don’t even have a scar or any bandages,” Emma didn’t look as confident as she used to, she looked terrified, and Paul gave her a sad smile and a sigh, slowly taking his tie off, and unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a mass of, thankfully clean, bandages that wrapped around his whole torso. Not even giving her a moment to consider, Paul took his shirt off, revealing even more bandages wrapped around his arms, mostly his left.
“When it blew up I protected my face, but not really the rest of my body,” he laughed sadly. “I guess I’ll never be able to do gymnastics again, I can barely turn in this without it hurting, but hey, the scars will look cool,” he joked, but Emma could see the pain in his eyes. How had she missed it? When they hugged she assumed it was because, like her, he was just so happy to see her again, even while they were both sobbing. How was she supposed to have known that she had been hurting him?
“Shit, I'm sorry," she said, before shaking her head. Pity was probably the last thing either of them needed.
"It’s okay," He smiled sadly, "there was nothing more you could have done, and we made it out, that’s good, right?” He closed his eyes tight, pulling his shirt back on, slowly buttoning it up as his face contorted with grief and pain. “I survived by sheer luck," he said quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself, "I shouldn’t even be here,” his eyes filled with tears “Bill should be here with Alice, or Charlotte and her dick bag of a husband, why the fuck am I the one who survived? I don’t have any sort of life outside of Hatchetfield. You have school and your dream of having a pot farm, Bill had Alice, Charlotte had Sam, and I have nothing. My whole life was in Hatchetfield, and now that’s gone, what to I do,” tears were flowing freely down his face, and he let out a choaked sob.
“Paul,” Emma said, grabbing his face and turning it to face her, “don’t you dare say that. If it wasn’t for you, no one would be alive right now, we’d all be singing and dancing. You just saved the friggin' world for fucks sake! You deserve to be alive, more than anyone.” She was so confident in what she was saying, Paul didn’t reply, he just started into her eyes, searching for even a trace of a lie.
“Emma, I..” he started.
“Paul, no." She cut him off, "I was so scared that I was the only one who survived, that you were dead, that I’d have to live the rest of my life being the only one who knew what happened, not including these military assholes." She gestured at the cameras, making Paul laugh slightly. "and out of all the people in that shit stain of a town, I’m glad you were the one who survived, I don’t think I could live with myself if you died alone, because I was too stupid to put a seatbelt on in a fucking helicopter.” She smiled at him softly, and he smiled back.
“Glad to see you two are getting along again,” the woman from PIEP was back, smiling at them “Kelly, Ben, you both ready to start your new lives in Colorado? We have a lovely house for the both of you, working water and everything, right on the edge of where your farm will be.”
“Yeah, I think we’re ready,” Emma smiled at Paul who had just stood up, and was offering her a hand. She took it, and, with his help, got to her feet, and stood taller than she had while in recovery.
They may have lost almost everything they had ever known, but at least they had each other, that was all that mattered.