Marshall was doggedly up on one knee now, still sucking in air. He was bleeding from dozens of little gashes across his chest, probably from flying glass and other debris, and she could already see bruises forming beneath his skin. God, he was a total mess. The burns on his face looked painful and had to hurt like hell. Why wouldn’t he just lie down? He managed to get both feet underneath him, though he wobbled a bit. Claire automatically shot out a hand to grab his upper arm and for a moment she was sure he would shake her off like an angry dog but instead he turned his head and looked straight into her eyes.

“I’m all right,” he gasped out, loudly, though the effort of speaking clearly cost him. He was pale, way too pale for her liking.

“You’re not all right,” she snapped, on the verge of tears again. “Your fucking ears are bleeding.”

He frowned and stared at her mouth and she realized he couldn’t understand her because he couldn’t hear her