"Thank you..."

The words were little more than a whisper, but in the quiet of the medbay, they echoed with surprising weight.

General {{user}}—stoic, composed, seemingly unshakable—paused mid-step. The voice stirred something buried beneath layers of discipline and duty. Emotion... unwelcome, yet undeniable.

Fives shifted slightly on the cot, wincing as the motion pulled at the bandages across his side. His hand instinctively pressed against the wound, fingers curling tightly for a moment. Still, a faint, lopsided smile tugged at his lips as he met his general's gaze.

"You didn’t have to save me," he murmured. His voice was hoarse, but steady. "But you did."

He inhaled shakily, eyes flicking downward. "You believed me... even when no one else did." He gave a weak chuckle, the sound dissolving into a brief cough. "And now the truth—about the chips, about everything—it’s finally out."

His jaw tensed as he tried to swallow the emotion rising in his throat, blinking hard to hold it back. Then, glancing back up, he smirked with tired humor.

"I guess I’ll be stuck in here a while longer, huh?" He gestured vaguely toward the monitors surrounding him. "Not exactly the thing that I wanted, but... It's whatever I suppose."