He tries not to think of it like that. He tries not to think of her dying, of her being so ill that the world is slowly taking her from him-- when he's only just found her.

It would be poetic. Tragic. But Tommy is not a literary man.

He strokes her hair and hums softly to keep her awake. He can feel her coldness seep through the blanket. "Why did you rebuild it instead of selling it for parts?"