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Oliver didn't want the memories at all, but now that it had been started, he couldn't get them out of his head. The hunters lying on the tables with their skin peeled back, the beetles crawling out of the woman as he carried her to the surface, crawling out of her wounds, the makeshift tent he had set up, and how he had at least delayed the Famine horseman who had appeared while he was alone.

"I-I wasn't brave..." He finally said. "I was attacked, a-and I was so afraid... b-but I couldn't let them get those two hunters back. The horsemen, they c-cut them open, d-dissected them... A-all I could think about, was how terrified I was..."

Oliver's grip was tight on the mug in his lap, his knuckles white. "I-if Finn hadn't come back... I-I m-might have b-been..."

The boy's tears came out then, but not in the pathetic, over-emotional way he was known for. There was no sobbing or sniffling involved, the struggle that was still going on in his mind left no room for anything but the most visceral emotion.

Oliver rubbed at his head a little more forcefully, ignoring the tissue box. He was struggling too hard with his thoughts to pay much attention to what was happening around him.

"I don't... I think so... I don't remember." He tried to curl up, the mug in his lap tipping dangerously as he put his head in his hands. "I-I was hurt... It feels like it wasn't me on that mission, like I was someone else... This- I'm like this, so scared, how could I have gotten through it? A-and now I can't get it all out of my mind..."

Oliver jerked at the touch, once again nearly spilling the mug. But it reoriented the teen back in the present moment, and he shakily lifted the hot chocolate to take a sip.

"I think... I-I don't know, they were when we came back, I think... B-but the horsemen d-didn't get them." The boy finally looked up at Jack with a pleading expression. "P-please, I-I want to go b-back t-to my room..."

After unearthing all those memories, Oliver might just have forgotten that the more he begged to get out, the more liberal the infirmary staff were with the sedatives. He just wanted out, so things could go back to how they were before the mission.

Oliver nodded urgently, he would have agreed to anything at that moment if he thought it would help with the difficult thoughts in his head.

"They were cut open," the boy whimpered, "their skin was peeled back, I c-could see everything inside, a-and those black beetles were crawling through everything... H-how could I have been so calm, I just... I just did what I could..." At that point his colour had not improved, he looked more like he was about to throw up. "The third was already dead, how could they have still been alive at all..."

"What if... what if I'm never calm like that again..." Finally Oliver let out a little sob. He hadn't acknowledged any of the horrors in his mind, but now that they had been pushed to the surface the only thing left to do was let out the emotions he had tried to stifle.

This time Oliver did manage to curl up around the mug in his lap, raising his knees to his chest so he would have something to hide his face in as he cried. There would probably be many more tears as he got over what had happened to the hunters, and what had happened to him while protecting them. But this was a start.

The little nod was the only sign Oliver had heard Jack at all. He wanted to curl up forever, just tighten up into a tiny ball that was invisible to the world. He wanted it all to go away.

The advice, even the praise, was hard to keep in his thoughts when they were punctuated by memories of bugs in the walls, and bugs in bodies. He did a good job. Not getting dissected alive. He had saved someone. It had been terrifying. Specimens.... they had been everywhere, crawling up his neck as he carried the wounded hunter to the surface.

Oliver's sobs gradually diminished, until the only thing left was a fragile, tightly curled up boy.

Oliver poked his head out from his tiny ball. His eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed, and the healing scab on his face had broken open between his eyebrows where he had rested his head on his knees. It had just begun a slow bleed.

The change in topic, abrupt as it was, provided a good distraction from his troubling thoughts. Slowly Oliver relaxed, uncurling to look at it. There was even hot chocolate still in side, or cold chocolate by now, and he took a sip with shaky hands.

"I-it's really n-nice..." he hiccuped. Jack would have gotten a much more enthusiastic answer before all the mission questions, but Oliver wasn't sure he really cared about the mug's reception. More likely it was a ploy to keep him talking.

His eyes followed Jack's hand as he picked up the notepad. "I-I like to draw the bones... It always makes sense..."

"There's a-actually some evidence to suggest dinosaurs had hollow bones, like birds. A-and they had air sacs too, which is probably why the bones could support such large creatures." Oliver's voice as he idly chattered on was still a little broken and emotional, but the tears themselves were gone. Whether he moved forward to process his troubling memories or buried them once again, it was impossible to tell at that moment.

Oliver lay back, mentally exhausted. "I don't know, they are just so different from anything alive today, but really similar too." He sighed. "My current job is not what I expected it would be..."