She's fixing the wiring in the ion manifold the first time she feels him.

She lifts a rag to wipe the sweat out of her eyes and it's just a puff of air, her name sliding across the back of her neck, like the humid breath of the engine she's working on.

She stops, listens. She's heard his voice in a thousand intonations, fondness to rage, and she'd know it anywhere. But the ship stays silent.

The next time, she's in the miniscule kitchen, thumbing idly through scan reports while her rations re-heat. She looks up when the buzzer sounds and there he is, perched awkwardly at the table, shirt stained like it was the last time she saw him. The buzzer sounds again and she blinks. He's gone.

The third time, she's outside, tethered to the ship by a long spool of cable and a titanium clip. Her welding torch is bright, sparking embers against the stark white hull.

Her stomach rumbles but she ignores the pang. Her rations are basically gone, and she can't afford to eat more than the bare minimum.

She sidles along the hull towards the airlock and reaches for her clip. A flicker in the corner of her eye and there he is, beside her.

He's kitted up in his own suit, but she can clearly see his face through the plexiglass mask. He smiles at her, but it feels wrong. The space suit hides the stains on his shirt.

He reaches out, pointing away from the ship. She drags her gaze off him but she can't see what he's pointing at. There's nothing out there, nothing but cold, distant pinpricks of light.

She turns back and gasps. The ship is far beyond arm's reach, her safety cable nearly stretched taut.

She pulls herself back to the airlock hand over hand, takes her suit off with shaking arms, and knocks back a sedative before bed.

The final time, she's running checks on the life support systems before slipping into a cryo-chamber to maximize her chances of survival.

An airlock's door mechanism is jammed, warning light flashing on her console. She wearily zips into her suit and goes to check it out.

He's waiting for her, this time. The stains on his shirt glisten, deep red.

Her breath catches in her throat.

"Why are you here?" she asks.

He says nothing.

"What do you want?" she tries again.

Still nothing.

A dam bursts. "Stop doing this!" she shouts. "I'm sorry, okay? But we both know there weren't enough rations for both of us, and I'm the only one who could fix the engines. Better that one of us makes it, than both of us die."

No response.

She sobs, a wet hiccup in her chest.

"I'm sorry," she insists. "What do you want me to say?"

He lifts an arm. Points out into space.

She nods. "Okay. You're right. Maybe it's better this way."

She steps out of the airlock.