"Simon." Her voice is rising with fear; the word is nearly a sob.

"Simon, don't, no, don't--"

She tries to move again, and manages to get her free hand to shift an inch. Metal whispers against metal, as the links of her shackles slide. She couldn't reach him even if her muscles were functioning normally; the chain is short, too short for much movement. Too short for strangling.

River closes her eyes on hot tears, and swallows.

"You should get some rest."