No. No she doesn't understand, and he can't explain, not when it's a struggle just to breathe let alone speak. He could've done it. He could've. But he didn't. He had to savor it, to make the madman suffer instead of ending the threat. Trillions of people would be alive now if he had.

All Thor can do his shake his head, rubbing at his chest and rocking unsteadily, as if the waves of anxiety were physical ones, battering at his crumbling defenses. By now, he knows better than to think that this will kill him, that the crushing sense of impending doom is nothing more than an illusion - or wishful thinking, maybe - but it doesn't make it hurt any less, doesn't lessen the fear that twists in him like a knife.

He struggles to rein in his breathing, to find focus in the patterns others have helped him with, but it's difficult when his own body is rebelling against him. It feels like an eternity before it has any effect, heart pounding as though he has been in battle, though he has never wanted a weapon in his hand less than he does now.