He stops, sleeve halfway down his arm. The pain in her voice like a drop of blood in water: not much, just enough to change everything. For a moment he stands there, watching the light swim over her, a deep blue-green. It's going to hurt either way, so he finishes pulling off the coat and, for want of anything better to do, folds it. Drapes it over his arm.

Gauging her reaction as he goes.

Afterward he stands there some more, unsure if he should move. He's hurting her: that much is clear. “I landed on it.” Faintly wry, though his words are careful to the point of brittleness. “It's not bad, I'm ambidextrous.”

People flicker on the wall—wildly different, each of them, all picking their way through the cave with her. He doesn't check on Dolores.

“I'm sorry.” For giving up on ever finding her. For this, whatever this is. Fuck it. William hooks the coat on a convenient outcropping of crystal and heads back to the fire. Hunkers down to coax it back to life. “If I'm not as close, does that make it easier?”