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He coughs up blood, his body tensing, struggling to breathe.
Hands on his shoulders. "Hold on," commands the voice. "That's an order!"
Feebly, he shakes his head, whispering, "I'm sorry, Captain, I've failed you."
"No," she argues, tears in her eyes. "I've failed you."
The last thing he sees is her face, smiling sadly down at him.
He cannot see her turn, nor hear her hurry away, nor feel her shake with grief.
He does not know that someone else futilely attempts to comfort her with mumbled words.
"It's not your fault."
But if he could hear, he would agree.