Arthur's grip back isn't gentle. It's desperate, as if Crichton might float away; it's also weaker than before. His hand is cold, the skin mottled as if with a rash.

But Crichton's sob is a reminder to Arthur that he has to keep it the fuck together, that the latest blow hitting him can't be the one that takes him down. He forces down his own crying, bit by bit. He can cry when he's dead.

Three months. So much must have happened. Has anybody else disappeared? Has Harvey been contained? (Or is he here, says a part of Arthur that's been tricked a lot lately, and his grip trembles -- but no, no, no, the way Crichton has been talking isn't play-acting.)

Keep it together. Figure out what's happened and why. The broad strokes of the 'what' are clear: the Dreamlands, the pit, the escape and all that followed, and Kayne sending Arthur back here, or- or sending him into a vivid and detailed illusion, but that's-- if that's the case, then it's real enough to interact with, and that's a start. As for the 'why', or even some sort of 'how', well, those are much harder.

"While I was gone, I-I couldn't remember any of this," he says, floored by that fact. "Not the ship, not anything that happened here... not- not, not even you. Maybe it was Kayne who did it, maybe the King, maybe the Captain. Christ," he adds, realising what a long list that is considering he's talking about cosmic beings who fuck with him, "somebody should tell them that three's a crowd."

(He's not thinking about the specifics of his entry to the Dreamlands, and so he doesn't realise it, but it actually followed on seamlessly from what was happening when the ship first took him. Huh!)