It's stunning, how many kinds of fear it's possible to feel at once. There's still the sick, helpless fear of watching Sigma die; still the constant, high-pitched screech at the back of his mind urging him to run run run, the hallmark of the Arena; and now, added to it, a sinking, disbelieving horror, so awful he almost rejects it out of hand. That's impossible. They wouldn't. That defeats the entire purpose...

He wants to ask again, to prove that Sigma's simply delusional with pain, to write it off as paranoia, to find the real reason, but the command stops him. He's right. The battles at the Cornucopia must be ending by now. He's made himself a target for every person pelting this direction with a newly-gained weapon.

But he hesitates-- just for a second, poised an instant away from leaping to his feet and resuming his mad dash for anywhere-but-here. "Please-- is there--" He swallows hard. "Is there anything I can do?" Logically, he knows it's hopeless - he saw Ariadne die, he knows how quickly this will go, he can see on Sigma's face that it isn't going to be much longer - but-- gods, it feels cruel just to leave him.