You think I'm brave.

I want to laugh and cry and scream all at once as you tell me. You sound so sure. So stern, as you reprimand me for ever daring to doubt it.

You're wrong.

You think I went into that room because I was brave?

You think it was courage that drove me through those doors?

No.

As you stood there staring at me through the glass I didn't feel any waves of heroism wash over me. No sudden bursts of valour and confidence that I could save you. I honestly had no idea if that stupid helmet could really help or not.

There's only one thing I felt, standing there listening to you shout about how pasty I am, hearing myself shout back. Reminding me how every minute of every day you and I have been together, side by side.

All I felt was fear.

That's what drove me in there.

That's why I didn't think twice.

I didn't have time to be afraid that I might die with you in that lab.

I was too busy being terrified at the thought of living without you.