He's awake before she's finished moving and it's the words that make him stop. Because he could make this worse or he could make this better and he's not sure which action causes which effect.
He has to try, though. He can't just let her sit there, terrified. A hand on her knee. "Allison?"
At first he's not sure and then his mind makes the connection. "Allison. Allison look at me." Trying to hold her even though she's pulled herself into this ball. "Look at me please."
John's not sure what to do about that. He won't shake her, or raise his voice, because none of them feel like good ideas. He will hold her though, try and stop her shaking. "Allison, Allison, wake up please. Wake up. Wake up baby it's okay."
"Needle and thread and ice to slow the blood loss. So she can get bullet out. Because you'll leave her. She has to fix me, even though it'd be easier not to." Easier to have let Allison die. In the long run.
Even in this weird half-asleep half-awake mix, that helps. And she relaxes a bit, her head lolling to rest on his shoulder. "She'll find us. She always finds what she's looking for."
He has to try, though. He can't just let her sit there, terrified. A hand on her knee. "Allison?"
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Is it, John?
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It isn't. It might never be. But he doesn't know what else to do.
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