Erran didn't move, leaden with shock. The room was just as it had been the last time he'd...no, not the last time. Last time it had been empty, and he'd shut the door behind him. Now it was all back, the rugs, the walls crowded with paintings, the painted screens around her bed, the mismatched cushions on her couch. As if nothing had ever been touched or moved at all.
And Gemma herself—he was more prepared to believe that this was some kind of illusion than he was to believe it was really her. The island had proven well enough that They could make the lab rats see and feel whatever They wanted. Gemma was mussed from sleep, wrapped up in a blanket but smiling, happy, as if nothing was wrong. She hadn't been hurt, she wasn't huddled in a corner with a thousand yard stare, she was...fine.
For a second he didn't move when she reached out for him, and then he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her tight against his chest. "What happened, oh my God, what happened, are you okay? What did they—are you okay?"