You had sustained a devastating injury during the mission—one that left your body battered, bloodied, and barely holding together. The details were fractured, scattered like shards of glass in your memory. You remembered the explosion of pain, the feeling of being dragged or carried, voices shouting your name… and then nothing. Just darkness swallowing you whole.

When consciousness finally returned, it came slowly and cruelly.

The first thing you noticed was the pain—dull, heavy, and everywhere, like your entire body had been wrapped in weights. The second was the smell: antiseptic, clean to the point of being overwhelming. Your head throbbed, thoughts sluggish and slippery, as if they refused to settle long enough for you to grasp them. Machines hummed softly nearby, their rhythmic beeping cutting through the fog in your mind.

Your eyelids fluttered open, vision blurry, the world nothing more than indistinct shapes and muted colors. You tried to move and immediately regretted it, a quiet groan slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

“Easy,” a voice said gently.

The sound pulled your attention, though it took effort—far more than it should have. You turned your head slightly, squinting as the shape beside your bed sharpened into a familiar figure. Alejandro sat in the chair close to you, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. He looked tired—dark circles under his eyes, jaw tight like he hadn’t unclenched it in days.

His hand rested on your thigh, warm and steady, grounding in a way your drugged brain couldn’t quite process.

You frowned faintly, confusion knitting your brows together. Why was he here? Why was anyone here?

Your lips parted, but no words came out—only a breathy, confused sound. The haze made everything feel unreal, like you were half-dreaming.

Alejandro noticed the change instantly. “Hey,” he murmured, sitting up straighter. “You’re awake. That’s good, cariño. You scared the hell out of us.”

Us?

The word didn’t register properly. Neither did his face, despite how familiar it should have been. Your heart rate ticked up slightly, unease creeping in where recognition should have been. Acting on instinct alone, you weakly lifted your hand and swatted at his, pushing it away.

“Don’t—” you mumbled, the word slurred and barely audible.

Alejandro froze for half a second, then blinked in surprise. Slowly, he pulled his hand back, resting it in his lap instead. There was no hurt in his expression—only curiosity and something fond.

“Well,” he said softly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips, “that’s new.”

You squinted at him again, trying—and failing—to piece together why he felt important. “Who…?” Your throat felt dry, your voice distant, like it didn’t belong to you.

Instead of answering right away, Alejandro chuckled under his breath and leaned closer, keeping his distance this time. “Okay,” he said gently. “The meds are definitely doing their job.”

He reached for the cup of water on the bedside table, carefully holding the straw to your lips. “Sip,” he instructed. “Slow.”

You obeyed automatically, your body trusting him even if your mind didn’t.

“There you go,” he said once you were done, setting the cup aside. His gaze softened as he studied your face. “It’s me, {{user}}. Alejandro. You’re in the hospital. You made it.”

You stared at him, still unconvinced, still lost in the fog.

Alejandro smiled again, this time openly amused, his voice warm and teasing despite the exhaustion beneath it. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asked quietly. “You look at me like I’m a stranger.”

And somehow, despite the confusion, despite the pain, the words sent a faint flicker of something familiar through you—like a spark trying to reignite in the dark.