When the other car smashed into them, for a second Bill's vision blanked with shock. Glass shattered, metal crunched, their car spun away. As soon as everything stopped, he glanced over at Holden to make sure he was alright. His heart froze.

Holden's head was lolled to the side, his eyes closed. There was blood all over him, probably from the glass, but Bill knew instinctively that something much worse was wrong. "Holden?" He asked tentatively, hoping he was wrong. "Kid?"

Nothing.

Rage began to boil inside him as he remembered the car that hit them. The other driver was shaking slightly, gripping his hair and swearing. "What the fuck?!" Bill snarled, closing the gap between them in seconds. "What were you doing, 80? 100?"

"I had the right of way!" The man protested, anger becoming evident in his own voice.

"Right of- right of way?! My partner's fucking bleeding and unconscious and all you can say is you had the right of way?" His fury was making his ears ring, but as soon as the words left his mouth he turned back to Holden, who was finally beginning to stir.

All of a sudden, his anger was gone. Bill walked back over to the car. Holden opened his eyes and glanced over at his partner blearily. "Wha' happn'd?" He slurred.

"Car accident. You don't move, kid, alright? I'll… I'll find a phone and call for an ambulance." Bill turned around and saw the other driver had joined him, now looking very guilty. "Make yourself useful and find a fucking phone," he growled. Instead of arguing, the man simply nodded and ran off to the pay phone half a block up the street.

Holden's breathing was labored and shallow, like he couldn't get a full breath. Bill wondered if a rib had broken in the impact and punctured a lung. He sure hoped not, because that would make their timetable a whole lot tighter. "Bill?" His partner asked, eyes half closed.

"Yeah, kid?"

"If I don't make it… tell Debbie I love her? And my mom. She's always so worried…"

Bill slowed down the lump of panic in his throat. "Shut the fuck up, Holden. You're not going anywhere yet. You're not even thirty years old. Just try and breath, alright? Just stay awake and focus on breathing."

Holden's eyes were glassy, and his breaths were more and more shallow. He slowly shook his head, and Bill suddenly realized how much pain the poor kid must be in right now. "Promise me, Bill. Promise me."

The other driver was back, babbling about how there would be help soon, but Bill wasn't listening to him. He was watching his partner, the trickle of blood trailing from his mouth, how his breaths were only occasional gasps. "I promise," he said, because how could he not promise, when his poor, stupid kid partner was dying right in front of him?

Holden coughed, and a spray of blood hit the inside of the windshield. There was a tiny smile on his face, even as his body struggled for air. And then, with one final hitch of the breath, something faded in his eyes, and he was gone.

"Holden?" Bill asked, his voice shaking despite himself. "Come on, kid, don't do this to me."

The other driver was wailing about how it wasn't his fault, that it wasn't on purpose. There were sirens in the distance, growing ever closer. Bill's hands were shaking as he stared at the body of his partner, who he'd killed thanks to his fucking distracted driving, of all things.

"Holden," he said blankly, before his legs gave out and he was forced to sit on the curb and come to terms with what he'd done.