She doesn't even see him until her lungs refill with air, isn't aware that he's moved her until that moment. It feels less like inhaling than it feels like being pumped up with a bicycle pump, and she blinks out tears as she comes back into her head. They're not tears of sadness, or anything other than maybe shock and physical pain.

"I'm breathing," she mumbles hoarsely, eyes darting back and forth across his face.