It was through a blur of images and pain that they got as far as the infirmary door. He had little knowledge of the journey, so lost in what he saw. He had lost count now of the times he had seen Marian die, and the different ways. He knew he deserved it, for the things he had done.
With the sudden stop of momentum, he could no longer keep his feet without the support of something besides Marian's arms, and he slumped against the wall beside the door. His feverish gaze met hers through the sweat dampened hair which had fallen in his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, he saw her, and not the things haunting him.