"Rose?"
Her eyes were open. She wasn't looking at anything in particular; just staring up into the sky sightlessly. Her hands rested on her stomach comfortably. It might have been a pensive position.
Had she been awake.
He looked at her, not understanding. Not comprehending the nature of what she was doing. What was she doing? What was he doing? What exactly seemed to be happening? Why was she—
He was no longer aware of time passing second by second. Time was passing in short bursts of actions. It felt as though he was living in a live-action animation, consisting of frames rather than sequences.
Frame one. He was on his feet, staring down at her.
No, no, no, no, no…
Frame two. He was sitting beside her, frantically counting out thirty chest compressions and lifting her head to blow air into her lungs. Over and over and over.
No, no, no. Oh please, no…
Frame three. She was in his arms. She was ice cold.
No, no, no, no. This can't be happening. No, no, no…
Frame four. He was running faster than he had ever run before.
Hold on. Please, please, please, stay with me…
Frame five. Lights burned bright around him, stinging his eyes as they adjusted from the darkness outside. People were screaming and crying and yelling and shouting.
Or was that him?
Frame six. Someone was taking Rose. Hands were restraining him. More yelling and shouting.
Frame seven. He was watching her through a window as people used their machines on her. She kept on lying there, staying completely still.
Please, please, please…
Frame eight. Novice Hame was talking to him. She was apologising. People were trying to console him. More yelling.
Frame nine. Novice Hame was shaking him by the shoulders, screaming the same thing over and over: "There was nothing you could have done! Do you hear me?! THERE WAS NOTHING YOU COULD HAVE DONE!"
Frame ten. Nothing mattered.