No breath. No heartbeat.
“Damn it, Rocco,” I hiss, forcing myself to focus as I lace my fingers together and place them over his chest.
I push down, counting with each compression, trying to ignore the fire’s heat radiating against my back, the sweat and soot stinging my eyes. My hands press down hard. Each movement is desperate, willing his heart to start beating on its own.
“One…two…three…”
I keep going, each count grinding against my already raw throat, my fingers digging into his chest as I press down over and over.
My own breathing is ragged, my body straining with each movement, every ounce of my strength poured into forcing life back into him.
Finally, I pause and pinch his nose, leaning over to give him a breath. His chest rises with my oxygen, but it’s not enough.
He’s still motionless, his face pale and streaked with soot, his eyes devastatingly shut. He’s always looked so much younger when he’s asleep, butthisis too much. Too vulnerable, too helpless. It makes tears begin to prickle in my eyes.
“Come on, come on!” I shout at him, not caring how hoarse and ragged it comes out.
I give him another round of compressions, pushing down with everything I have, my body aching as I fight to keep going.
“Don’t you dare give up on me now. Not now. You bastard.”
Then.
Then.
Something happens.
On the third round of compressions, his body jerks beneath my hands.
It’s faint, but it’s there. He coughs once, a weak, shuddering sound, and I sit back, gasping as he turns his head to the side, dragging in a painful breath. His eyes blink open, unfocused, but he’s breathing. He’s alive.
Relief slams into me, as powerful as any of Leon’s blows. I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to his shoulder, steadying him as he coughs and sputters, trying to get air into his lungs.
“Rocco,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a rasp. “You’re all right. Just breathe, okay? Just keep breathing.”
He nods weakly, his gaze slowly focusing on me, recognition dawning through the haze of pain and exhaustion.
“C-c-”
“Cas,” I finish for him. “Cas is okay, too. She’s alive, Rocco. She’s fine. She’s on the other side.”
“C-c-…s.”
He pushes himself up with grueling difficulty. He’s sitting with sweat and agony dripping from his face as he braces himself for…
“Easy there, big guy,” I rush in to stop him. “You need to just lie down, okay?”
“Cas,” he grits out, more firm than before.
The man has to be operating on pure adrenaline at this point, intent on reuniting with his wife if it kills him, which—at his rate—it probably will.
If I leave him here to confront Ida, he’ll only try to follow.
“You are a pain in my ass, you know that?” I growl as I swoop down to pick him up.
There’s no strength in his legs at all, so I stagger dangerously as I try to stand with the added weight.
My only choice is to throw him across my back like we used to as kids. The familiarness of the action makes his arms wrap around my neck almost instinctively, and despite his useless legs, I manage to secure him tightly.
