She knelt by his side, he face chalk-white despite the thin layer of ash now coating her face.
"Norman! Norman, can you hear me?" In vain, Margaret tried to pry the giant plank off of her wounded friend. She began to weep helplessly, resting her head on top of his. A moment passed, the air still smoldering. He stirred, and lifted his eyes to find her cheek pressed against his.
"Margaret—get—out," he murmured, his breath sharp and his words slurred.
Her eyes brightened and she leapt to her feet. "Norman, stay calm. I want you to try to move. It's going to hurt, but I need you to try it."
Norman inhaled deeply and flinched, his brow furrowing at the pain.
"Can you still move your legs?"
"I—think I—"
Margaret tore a piece of fabric from her sleeve and pressed it over Norman's nose and mouth. He gingerly lifted his arm in understanding and replaced her hand with his. Light-headed and strength draining quickly, Margaret used the last surge of adrenaline in her body to hoist one fallen plank onto another parallel to Norman's in order to construct a lever. She threw the whole of her weight onto the effort arm, shifting the beam just enough for a moment to allow Norman to roll himself over. It crashed down beside him. He groaned, free from the trap.
Norman flung one arm around Margaret's shoulder and tried to place weight on his left leg. He yelled in agony. They staggered toward the stairs and managed halfway down the stairs before Margaret tripped, nearly blind with pain, and Norman tumbled to the landing. She ran to his side, and together they limped through the door and stumbled onto the lawn where fresh air could wash over them, both burned and bleeding.
Outside, the wind was dying, and a rare coolness settled in the grass. A grey overcast clouded the sky and blotted out the sun, bringing relief to hot skin.
Just far away enough for safety from the toppling structure, Norman collapsed into Margaret's arms. There he laid his head in her lap as she caught the much-wanted air in her lungs, listening to him struggle for breath. She touched his cheek where her hand had once stung him and he smiled weakly. She had finally cooled the burning. His eyelids grew heavy with the desire for sleep.
"Stay awake with me. Please," Margaret urged.
"I never could have loved you," Norman whispered in breathless labored breathing, pain and transcendent relief in every forced word. "Never could have—given you what you deserve—with only half of me to give—"
Margaret could feel him draining away from himself, fading deeper and deeper into her arms. Her tears left clean streaks on her soot-smudged cheeks. "Everything is going to be different now. You're going to be alright. You have to be."
Rain fell, slowly at first, with tiny drops of water falling around them and on them.
"She's—she's gone— it's over now."
"That's right, Norman!" Her voice shook with fear, her shining face imploring him to stay with her. "It's over. We've won."
The speed of the growing raindrops quickened as the shower began to crescendo into a downpour.
Norman's breath quickened as he attempted to speak. "Fighting her—I forgot—how whole I felt—before I—"
"I know."
He coughed. Margaret noticed blood at the corner of his mouth.
"Look!" She said, desperately drawing his attention to something that would occupy his mind. "The fire is dying."
The rains quenched the fire as black smoke raised a thick column in the air.
Norman turned his head to gaze at the ruins. "I killed my mother," Norman whispered.
"Hold me— tighter," he gasped. "I can't… feel your arms anymore…"
Two police cars, two ambulances and a fire engine screamed into the lot.
Margaret held Norman to her chest, her face in his shoulder. "You're going to live," she insisted, the tears flowing now as rain fell in sheets around them.
Men in uniform rushed out of their vehicles and ran up the steps. Norman was lifted from her grasp and placed on a stretcher as a medic took Margaret's arm and tried to lead her away.
"No!" she cried, twisting from his grasp. "I'm going with him!"
No one protested.
"I'm not going to leave you, Norman," she vowed as she chased after him, as he was being carried away. His breathing slowed when he looked at her, knowing she was safe, knowing he could rest. "I know how long you've fought, but if you're willing to fight for just a little longer…!"
Margaret stayed by Norman's side as the darkness came, and she was there in the fluorescent room when, like at the end of nightmare, he awoke.