It's worse, he thinks, that she doesn't recognize him. The fragile sense of self he's trying to maintain shatters at the idea that the one person he's closer to than almost anybody else here might just not be the friend of this version of himself. Something has fundamentally changed between the two iterations of himself that she can't accept, and --

She launches herself at him, and the bark of noise that comes from her might as well be coming from a feral alien; one driven mad by the Faceless Ones and desperate for him to take their place. He'd put himself in harm's way for the remaining survivors on that red planet and eventually, eventually they'd started sacrificing him themselves.

He lashes out with a fist, imagining those awful snarling teeth and the madness-glazed eyes, raising his other arm in front of him to brace against the incoming spear that doesn't hit.