Shit. She takes an almost involuntary step forward, trying to--she doesn't know what, except she doesn't actually want to go into that white room even if the fire, so bright and out of place and not white, makes it more appealing.

The fact that a room that's on fire is more appealing than a white room is probably something she should worry about, but that's a problem to deal with later.

At least she can think more clearly now. She recognizes the boy now, who looks vaguely familiar but doesn't click into place until she remembers that event where they were children. This is Tim. Just as a child.

A child setting a hospital on fire. That... probably isn't good. The trouble is, judging by the fact that Tim is generally a whole lot older than this, this is a memory. Which means he'll probably survive the experience, judging from his existence as an adult, which means she doesn't have to worry about the fact she's not sure she should stop it even if she can and the fact that there's a certain part of her, an increasingly angry part, that is more than happy to see a hospital room go up in flames.

But she isn't sure enough to move away. She'll see this through. She has to.