Content warning: discussion of injury.
You're hurt, and they're coming to save you.
Movement blurs and flickers across your vision, but you can't make sense of it. You stopped being able to make sense of anything long ago, between the pain and cold rapidly filling your body: something is horribly, horribly wrong, but you can't remember why.
There are shouts, too: words you can't quite make out. Are they close? Far away? One voice sounds familiar, but it's hard to tell if it's real...
You feel dizzy, the ground beneath you pressing sharply into your back. Despite the pain it somehow feels inviting, limbs growing heavy as your mind drifts, fading away from the bright, harsh lights and sounds. You find yourself dissolving into deep, dark-
Heat. You flinch before realising it's them, familiar hands checking your injuries, pressing down an overflowing wound, murmuring soft reassurances all the while.
Their touch is so gentle and careful that the growing numbness breaks into tears, a sob rattling your chest. Using what energy you have left, you reach for them. They bridge the gap immediately, grasping your hand.
You're safe. They always keep you safe.
You think they might be saying something else, but the sound turns to static as you drift off to sleep.
The next time you wake, they're still holding your hand. Their grip is tight, clinging to you like a lifeline. If you weren't so tired, you'd laugh: anyone else would think you had saved their life, not the other way around.