She's crying out into him and he has never felt more useless in his life as he holds his wife, pained and dying. The wetness in his eyes amasses unabated as he grips her tightly, afraid of what is about to come, of what is going to happen when all is said and done and--
It takes him a moment to realize that the sound of metal hitting the floor is coming out of her. That the pieces that had sought to embed themselves in her, to wound and end her life, were leaving her body and... And what? He's confused as a hand goes down her back, seeking any sort of blood or wounds that had been there moments before. The remnants are there on her clothing, torn and ruined as they are, but on her they seemed to have vanished.
Was he dreaming? Had the bomb going off simply been part of an elaborate hallucination? Or was her sudden recovery the joke his mind was playing on him?
"Lakshmi...?" he says quietly, scared to say anything lest this be shattered. He's not sure what is happening beyond that his wife appears to be farther from death's door than she was moments before.
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It takes him a moment to realize that the sound of metal hitting the floor is coming out of her. That the pieces that had sought to embed themselves in her, to wound and end her life, were leaving her body and... And what? He's confused as a hand goes down her back, seeking any sort of blood or wounds that had been there moments before. The remnants are there on her clothing, torn and ruined as they are, but on her they seemed to have vanished.
Was he dreaming? Had the bomb going off simply been part of an elaborate hallucination? Or was her sudden recovery the joke his mind was playing on him?
"Lakshmi...?" he says quietly, scared to say anything lest this be shattered. He's not sure what is happening beyond that his wife appears to be farther from death's door than she was moments before.