Lita is a robot; her machinations are repetitive and by the book and technically perfect in every way but they're just not working. Minutes pass but they might as well have been hours. The cracks in her cool facade are beginning to show; she's sweating and her arms are on fire and they're starting to shake slightly but after all of that he's still not breathing.
She doesn't see or hear Rodeo come up beside her, not at first. She feels like she's far away and completely alone; there's just her bloody hands and this heart that refuses to start beating. She's all by herself...until she's not.
Rodeo's soft, Southern lilt brings her out of her self-induced trance. He's there, right at her side, offering to help and she's so tempted to let him. It would feel so nice to simply stand aside and let him take over. She could rest her arms and her mind; all she would have to do is breathe for this man. Just inhale and exhale, over and over, until he takes in air on his own...
But she can't. Lita knows this man is dead and that is on her. She could put the blame on Rodeo, it would be easy because he already looks as if he carries the weight of the whole world on his broad shoulders, what's once more death on top of that? For reasons she doesn't fully understand, she can't bring herself to do it. Lita can't let Rodeo feel any more guilt (warranted or not) than he already does. The anguish in this face is enough to make her slow her hand motions and then stop completely. There's no reason to let him languish on when she know there was no hope.
"There's no helping him now," Lita says quietly, not meeting Rodeo's eyes. She lets out a sigh, hoping it will relieve the tension in her arms and shoulders and heart but isn't surprised when it doesn't. She has to force herself to look him in his face when she says what she knows she has to say.
"I'm sorry, Rodey," Lita says, and she is. As a doctor, you always feel sorry when you have to give your condolences to the family of the deceased. You're sorry you couldn't save them, you're sorry they were ill in the first place, you're sorry you couldn't do more. This is somehow more intimate, more personal, and she can't put a finger on why. She's not sure she wants to.
"I'll...I'll let you have a moment."
Lita stepped back, removed her gloves and threw them onto the dust-covered floor. Normally she would take more care and leave nothing behind, but there was no containing the biological mess they had made here now. There was blood on the table, on her, and on the floor in the effort to save the patient. It would only be a matter of time before the infected would swarm on the place, drawn to the metallic tang of blood. She knew she had to give Rodeo time but he wasn't a dummy; the time spent mourning his friend's death would have to limited. She busied herself sterilizing her supplies and placing them back in her kit, giving Rodeo time to say goodbye.