Yeah. It's - manageable, most of the time, up until it's not. Like, say, now, in her life.

well

we’re getting out.

Yeah.

She gets up again, and ends up pacing the room, disoriented.

what's up?

I meant to... whatever it was she meant to do, it's gone now, forgotten. She paces; she doesn't mean to, it's just happening.

you were going to teach me, right?

Yeah.

She sits on the edge of the bed, but pops up again immediately, going back to pacing.

...do you think something else is up?

I don't know. This does just happen sometimes.

She can't stop pacing but she can meditate while pacing, with a little difficulty, double-checking her senses and defenses.

...shit.

...what is it?

She shows him the precognition. They're coming for me. Tomorrow sometime. She flops onto the bed.

...again? this soon?

He doesn’t know whether calling it “soon” is even accurate. He just doesn’t want her to go, he doesn’t want her to lose more...

Apparently. She's notpanickingnotpanickingnotpanicking, letting the fear chase its own tail instead of allowing it to get all over everything. I need to - teach you, first. You can practice while I'm gone.

He sets his jaw, swallows, nods though he knows she can’t really see.

okay. okay, teach me.

Yeah. She burrows under the blankets, curls up in a tight ball. So, here's how you meditate...

She barely pauses for dinner, refusing to uncurl and letting the droid feed her bites instead, encouraging him to eat but to keep working while he does. It's a complicated technique, requiring a fair amount of finesse, but she's a good teacher, able to break it down into sensible parts and suggest practice exercises for each one.

She’s a good teacher, and he’s a fast learner. The things she tells him fit right in with things he never realized he had taught himself, and he’s quick to pick up new parts from there.

He eats as fast as he can when his food comes and returns to their work.

They work into the night, but, complicated as it is, eventually she runs out of things to teach him.

I don't want to go. She's exhausted; still riding the wave of work-to-be-done, but starting to crash, now, hopefully into sleep but more likely into the rocky shoal of lurking terror.

i don't want you to go either.

I don't know - what I'm like, when I first get back. I never remember it. Droid says it's not bad, but... perspective.

 He doesn't want to make it worse, but he can't help but wonder if she's going to lose more of herself, wonder how much she'll lose.

She pulls herself together.

It's not a fast process.

I come back, okay? It's bad but it's not... it could be worse. I come back. I wasn't much worse after the second one than after the first.

okay.

He tries to give her his presence, the way she did for him, though he's not sure how well he can even start to do it.

She understands. She swirls close around him.

It's gonna be bad, when I first get back. She nudges the connection indicatively: s'not going anywhere. You'll be able to see.

will it get through to me too?

I don't think so. There's nothing to see by the time I'm recovered enough to look.

I can take it down, but then you'll be alone until I remember to put it back. Weeks.