He's awake. He breathes, and the sound of it is wet, far from smooth in the way that Effy's always known Jason to be, every last action of his taken with the kind of purpose that Effy's never known. It's different, to act for a cause, or to act for its own sake, but maybe Effy can feel a flicker of the desire to when her hand closes more tightly around his shoulder, her head shaking, hair falling out of place. "No," she protests, afraid suddenly. Being behind someone is no different than being left, abandoned— at least, such has always been true in Effy's life. She can't.

It can't happen again.

"No," she insists, eyes grazing over the red of his shoulder and quickly staring, fearfully, over her shoulder. She'd rather stay. "No, Jason, you're hurt."