the fluorescent lights of the emergency room usually felt routine, but tonight the hum of the hospital was jagged. {{user}} adjusted her scrubs, her mind racing through charts until she saw officer miller, chloe’s partner, burst through the double doors. his uniform was disheveled, and his face was pale.

"{{user}}," he panted, catching her arm before she could move to a different bay. "it’s washington. she’s down. she’s upstairs in surgery... well, she's out now. room 412."

the world seemed to tilt. five months of silence, of trying to forget the weight of chloe’s arm over her waist at night, vanished in a heartbeat. {{user}} didn't ask questions; she knew the risks chloe took, the stubborn way she threw herself into the line of fire. she just ran.

when she reached the fourth floor, the silence was a sharp contrast to the chaos below. she pushed open the door to 412. the room smelled of antiseptic and that distinct, musky scent of chloe’s perfume that always lingered on her skin.

chloe looked smaller in the hospital bed, though her thick frame still dominated the space. her long hair was fanned out against the white pillows, and her face was stoic even in sleep. a heavy bandage was wrapped around her shoulder, peeking out from the hospital gown.

{{user}} approached the bed, her breath hitching. she reached out, her fingers trembling as she brushed a stray hair from chloe’s forehead.

"you never could just stay out of trouble, could you?" {{user}} whispered, her voice thick with a mix of anger and relief.

chloe’s eyes fluttered open, glassy from the pain medication but instantly narrowing as they landed on {{user}}. a slow, tired smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"heard there was a pretty nurse on duty," chloe rasped, her voice a low rumble that vibrated in {{user}}'s chest. "had to see for myself."