"Sam!" Hands gripped his shoulders, shaking his entire body as someone tried to wake him up. The blinding pain behind his eyes did the rest. Sam winced as the bullet wound was pulled, the same hands trying to make him sit up. There was a harsh gasp, very near to his face, then a strangled cry of "No!" as fingers literally tore the saturated cotton away to reveal the full damage of the shot. "Christ, no," Sam heard, then "Oh, Jesus, Sam, Sam…" Coherent words began to give way to choking sobs. Sam wondered distantly who it was on the other side of his eyelids.

"Sam," whispered the voice. Male, Sam noticed, still held immobile by the pain. He thought the flow of blood was slowing now, but maybe that was just another tempting fantasy he'd conjured up to trick himself into… What? What was he telling himself now? Sam's wonderings were interrupted by shaking digits that stroked a path down the tear-tracks on his now-icy cheek. "Bloody hell, Sammy-boy, you pick your moments, don't you?" The voice sounded upset, Sam thought; not just upset, but panicked. Panicked and afraid. "…Please." The word was quiet, almost lost in the tears that followed, but Sam heard it, felt it as it drove straight into his heart, and suddenly he knew he had to open his eyes. Because he knew who it was out there, and he needed to stop them from hurting, right now.

The muted light in the clearing was like burning magnesium as he forced himself to blink, but this was important, so he shelved his discomfort and focused. "Gene," he croaked.