[ Don't say that. There was an almost hysterical urge to yell as much, but William managed to keep his mouth closed until it passed. He gave Wesker's leg a bracing squeeze, because what the hell else was he able to do?

You're not dying, you're not dying. It's gonna be okay, the nurses were already assuring him, but William figured it would be better coming from him. At the very least, he needed to say it out loud just to hear it in his own voice, as though that would somehow make it truth or reverse the plain fact that the prognosis for sepsis, especially in a patient who had just come out of hypovolemic shock, wasn't good. At all. ]

You're not. It feels that way, but you're not. You're okay, Al. They're stabilizing you. You're going to be alright.