She had promised herself that she wouldn't cry, but now she couldn't help it. It was so hot, and she was begging it for it to be over in her mind, whatever over was. If she lived or if she died, it didn't matter because then it would be over.

She heard his words, but couldn't respond. It was hot to do that. It was like the fire was burning away all her thoughts, the tears on her cheeks and everything she could see. It was so hot.

And it was so funny, so she laughed. What else was there to do but laugh? She could feel the flames roasting her flesh. She couldn't bear it unless she was laughing, but she just cried more as she laughed, since it was impossible. She was immortal. She wasn't dying. And Gene was trying to save her. That was funny too, wasn't it?

I don't want to die. Not now, not when things were getting better. Not now, when Sam was back--oh, she hoped he wasn't watching. And she couldn't think about Gene, because it burned, it hurt and she was dying.

She couldn't laugh anymore. She could only scream with her dying breaths as her flesh cooked from a fire that wouldn't go away, no matter how much Gene tried to save her. There was a last breath crying out for help, and then--

It was cold.

And then it was nothing at all.