"W- what?" He starts to sit up, wincing as his body reminds him that it's a bad idea. He compromises and stays propped up on his elbows, staring at her with a bewildered look etched into the lines on his face.

"No. No. That was weeks- months ago. You died. Died on that rooftop, saved my life after we said we'd run away together, and I held you. Frank was there. And- and Stick. We buried you. And- and you d- you killed Stick. How- wha-"