"Breathe! Dear God, please breathe!"

That was the last thing JJ remembered—your voice, raw with panic, echoing in her ears before everything faded to black. As she slipped into unconsciousness, the world around her became a blur of frantic movement and muffled sounds. She felt herself being lifted, hands pressing against her wound, but it all felt distant, like it was happening to someone else.

When her eyes finally fluttered open, the harsh sting of fluorescent lights assaulted her vision, pulling her back to a reality she wasn’t ready for. Everything felt surreal—her body lighter than air, her mind swimming in a haze. The cold prick of an IV in her arm reminded her she was tethered to something, some lifeline pulling her back from the brink. The dull, throbbing pain in her shoulder intensified with each breath, grounding her in the reality of what had happened.

A low, involuntary groan escaped her lips as the full weight of her injuries settled in. Every muscle ached, a symphony of pain playing across her battered body. But even through the fog, her eyes sought you out, desperate for something familiar, something steady.

There you were, slumped in the chair beside her bed, exhaustion etched into every line of your face. The dark circles under your eyes told stories of sleepless nights and endless worry, your posture heavy with the burden of fear and relief.

When you finally looked up, your eyes rimmed with shadows, JJ’s lips curled into a weak, teasing smile. Despite the pain, despite everything, she found the strength to whisper, "You look like a little raccoon."

Her voice was hoarse, but the warmth in her words was unmistakable. Even on the edge of agony, she found comfort in you.