Darkness. It was all he could see. As he sat there, staring into the eyes of his friend, his dead friend, his mind whirled. How did it come to this? When did it come to this?
All he wanted was to go back to his ship. Yes, back to his ship, where everything would be okay, just like it always was. But he was gone. Forever.
People were arguing and there was a medic there, telling them that there was no way that his friend could be saved, he was already dead.
Part of him knew it was true, but the rest of him rejected it, like a poison running through his veins. He was always there for him. He would come back, just like he always did.
Yes, he would come back and then they could go on an adventure again. Travelling the stars together, with their fellow crew members. But he couldn't. He was gone.
"Captain?" The psychiatrist interrupted his thoughts, shattering the thin ice, "You haven't answered my question, Captain?"
He contemplated it. How could you describe losing half of your soul? How could he describe watching as his best friend, his soul mate, his t'hy'la (as he described them) suffer and be unable to do anything?
"There...is nothing worse, than losing someone and, upon finding them, seeing they are in danger, breaking, or broken, and being unable to help. I don't think I could truly describe it to you." He felt ashamed as he spoke. After all this time, this was how he would end his career. After so many hours, studying, practising and finally accomplishing his goal, this would be how it would end.