Cold hands. Sick stomach. So cold. So sick.
Ironic, for if she's dead she died in searing flames. Her beauty…now charred blackness.
He's failed her. He's never failed a partner before, but he failed her. If she's dead. She can't be dead. Not Cathy. Not his Cathy Gale.
Someone, talking to him. "No, no, Mrs. Gale was my responsibility."
Bang! Doors open. Even colder as gurney wheeled in. Tries to breathe. Can't. Lifts sheet. It's not her! Raises eyes. Stares blindly. Hears her voice. Freezes again. Turns to look at her, very slowly. Their eyes meet. Lock. She knows.