The terror is something Malcolm is used to seeing behind his eyes. The relief at the end, though. That’s new. Still, he knows only part of his heart jumping into his throat at the chair going in the pool is the memory itself. That was Hardison. Realistically, he knows he couldn’t have drowned. He’s here and this is a memory. But viscerally… maybe it’s Eliot’s certainty that this man could kill Hardison as casually as breathing and then go to lunch, but he gasps when Hardison emerges from the pool and drops the hat he had been moving out of the way to search a bedside drawer.

He looks down to see it lying there and he slams the drawer noisily.