simon_doctor | In the Infirmary

The first hint Simon has of something wrong is the rattling sound coming from the infirmary, followed by the sharp crack of metal striking tile. The second is his sister's voice, barely audible, in an odd frustrated whine of effort punctuated by harsh breathing.

River's kneeling on the floor when he hurries in, her hair hanging down in a curtain around her face, and he doesn't see what she's doing until he crouches beside her. "River, what ...?"

She's got an extractor, and has apparently been using it to pry up one of the floor tiles.

"Oh, no..."

River only half notices him, for a second. She's muttering under her breath. "Got to -- won't move. Need to widen the tunnel. Dig down to meet her. Simon, you have to help, it won't move. No. Got to do it alone. She's got to get herself out. Digging but her hands are broken now, got to dig." She raises her head to look at him, upset and frustrated. "Simon, the ground turned into concrete. She won't make it."

He reaches out to take hold of her hands, pull the extractor away from her (and a part of his mind notices that it's dented where she's been using it as a prybar, and groans). "River, no, it's all right -- there's nobody down there. It's all right."

"Not all right!" It's almost a shout, and she tries to cling to the extractor until he manages to get it out of her hands. "They'll catch her. Limited window of time. We have to help her dig!"

"Meimei, she's not -- there's nobody --" He's half-embracing her now, trying to hold onto her hands, keep her from clawing bare-fingered at the tiles. "There's nobody here, River."

"She is, he is, you just--" And then she wilts against him. "Can't see. That's all. Can't see." Leaning limply against his chest, she starts to cry, silently.

And doesn't stop for nearly two hours. Silently, monotonously, until the emotional exhaustion and a hypospray of a gentle soother send her to sleep.