"No," he says, or thinks he says, but he ain't too sure if th'words actually make it out of his mouth or if they stick there, chokin' him, makin' him gasp for air. He tries for her name but this time it ain't even close t'bein' out loud and he's tryin' to turn his face away from her, don't want to see the look on her face, don't want her t'see him. She can't see this. She shouldn't fuckin' have t'see this.

But she's touchin' him, hands on his shoulders on th'wound where th'sickle bit deep, and her fingers are slippin' in his blood and holdin' too tight and he cries out again, softer, sharper, an' his own hands come up to grapple at hers. Frantic, he ain't even sure if he's tryin' t'force her away or hold her closer.

Moments later it don't matter 'cause she ain't goin', he can't make her go, and his hands slip away from hers as he finally fixes his eyes on her own, wise'n'scared blue locked onto blue. "Please, Kate," he says, chokes, muscles standin' like cordwood in his neck, head back, fingers slippin' tryin' t'hold onto her.

He don't even know what he's tryin' t'ask but he's askin' all th'same, "Please, Kate, please!"