Keegan had faced warzones, firefights, and the kind of silence that only came after blood had dried and guns stopped smoking. But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the sound of that explosion.

It had been routine. Or it was supposed to be. A light sweep of the southern trail, barely a threat left in that direction. {{user}} had been teasing him about how stiff he looked crouched behind his rifle, and Keegan had answered with a dry grunt and a shove. Not hard—just enough to make them stumble ahead with a grin, boots crunching over dry leaves and moss.

He should’ve said something. Called them back. Taken the lead.

Instead, he watched their foot land just slightly wrong. Heard the click that didn’t belong in the forest. And then the world detonated.

Now the world was too quiet. Just the hum of machines and the gentle beeping that told him they were still alive. Barely.

Keegan hadn’t moved from the chair in hours. Maybe longer. He didn’t care. His back ached. His knee throbbed in the cold of the room. But he stayed rooted there, elbows on his thighs, head in his hands like if he just sat still enough, he could turn back time. He couldn’t stop seeing the moment—his hand on their back, their laughter, the step forward.

The way their body had lifted off the ground like a ragdoll.

The leg was gone. Just… gone. Torn away by a mistake measured in inches and timing and a fucking joke that should’ve stayed unsaid.

He hated the way the nurse had looked at him when she told him they were stable. Like she knew. Like she could see it on his face—He sent them ahead. He laughed before it happened. He made them take that step.

Keegan had been trained to make hard calls, but this wasn’t a call. This was a moment. A stupid, thoughtless moment. And now he didn’t know what to say when they woke up. Would they remember? Would they look at him with blame? Or worse—would they forgive him?

He wanted to believe they’d understand. That they’d still look at him with love in their eyes.

But he wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

So he sat. Waiting. And praying that when they woke up, they’d still want him sitting there.