Anya is dying in front of him.

She's choking on her own blood, body spasming in a way that reminds him of how he reacts to taking the same medication clutched in her fist. Blood pools in her mouth and her pupils blow wide.

Jimmy has stopped banging on the door. There's a steady thump, thump in the vents instead, suggesting that someone's in there.

He wonders, briefly in between moments of mind-numbing pain, if this is the moment it all goes to shit. If that happened way before now. In the cockpit. In Anya's bedroom. When they boarded.

He wonders, briefly in between looking at the light leaving the nurse's eyes and listening to the banging, if this could've all been avoided if he just took responsibility and punished Jimmy for the pain he caused. It would've.