Stephen's heart sinks the moment he touches her body. Too cold. She's much too cold; this wasn't recent -- how long? How long ago, while they slept?

He knows, on some level, that this is pointless, but desperation sends him to his knees right there on the bathroom floor. His hands are shaking badly, but still he goes through all the correct motions -- check for breathing, clear the mouth, open the airway. Just like Rocket.

"C'mon, c'mon..." he's muttering to himself as he starts the chest compressions, pausing to blow into her nose.

She's too cold to the touch.