It was so far away, though. She heard him, dimly in the background, and then the water on her cheek and it's cool and soothing. He sounded worried. She struggles against the pull of sleep, for a moment not sure if it was going to happen, but then her eyes slowly blink open and she looks at him.

He looked worried.

Don't look worried.

His one eye, the way his brow furrows and pulls at the stitches of his patch. She smiles at him, wan but sincere, and reaches to lay a hand on his arm. It's an easy, familiar connection. Dear friends, history, she gives him a light squeeze with what little strength she has.

"5 ... don't look so worried, I'll be fine."