York's gasp gets caught in his throat as Jersey forces him down. The man has stepped right onto the wound in his chest and he can't even scream for the white hot agony that tears through him at the harsh pressure. Then he's staring down the barrel of the gun and everything seems to freeze.

Sigma. Wash. Delta. Maine... Oh God, he's going to die here and never see them again. His friends, his teammates, his boyfriend. He can't breathe. It hurts too much in every sense.

He won't close his eyes. Even now, he won't make himself blind. So he sees the flash of the gun when it goes off, hears the sharp crack like quick thunder. And he definitely feels the bullet cut through him like he's made of paper. There's a beat, or maybe two of pain as his vision goes dark, then he slips off the edge of consciousness and falls into the nothingness below.