The last thing Hercules wants is to experience someone else's death; especially when that someone else was a pilot he knew and respected, someone he ran beside, someone he cared about. He's already seen so much death in his life, he doesn't want to have to see any more. But he's not going to leave her here alone, and even if she doesn't really register his presence, he's sticking it out, dammit.

He can at least be grateful that she seems to know better than to power up her defense systems; that's one less thing for him to have to worry about.

Instead he just sits there on the nebulous concept of 'ground,' coaxes her avatar into his lap, and holds on tight as she relives one of the worst moments of her life. He realizes he's making soothing noises, murmuring nonsense into her hair to try to reassure her that it's all going to be okay. It's hard to keep up when he can live through Raleigh experiencing his brother's death, but he does his best, tries to stay strong even though his head is reeling and he can feel his upper lip getting wet. A nosebleed is the last thing he needs right now, especially when he can't deal with it properly. He grits his teeth and ducks his head and tries to endure, and eventually, it's all over.

She's left, limp in his arms, and he tries to catch a proper breath.