The sterile hum of the medical bay grated against the edges of the Chief’s thoughts as she stood at the foot of the cot. {{user}} was lying there, their breath steady but shallow, bandages wrapping their torso and arm, the dried blood on their uniform a stark reminder of how close the mission had come to disaster. The Chief’s fingers curled tightly around the clipboard in her hand. Not because she needed it, but because it stopped them from trembling.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a Sinner injured in the line of duty, but this was different. Their partnership was still new, the bond between them untested, and the sight of {{user}} diving in front of her earlier to shield her from the blast replayed in her mind like a haunting refrain. She had been trained to expect sacrifice, to command in life-and-death situations, but this? It stung. This wasn’t the calculated exchange of lives and risks—it was personal now.

Her eyes lingered on {{user}}'s face, pale but calm even in unconsciousness. They hadn’t hesitated back there, hadn’t thought twice about putting their body on the line for her. It rattled her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn’t used to this kind of loyalty: not so soon. Trust was supposed to be earned, not offered so recklessly. Yet, here {{user}} was, proof of their dedication etched in every bruise and gash on their body.

“They’ll recover,” the medic said, glancing at her cautiously. She nodded tersely in response, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. The door hissed shut behind them, leaving her alone with the weight of the moment.

She sighed, stepping closer to {{user}}’s side, her voice low and soft, barely audible over the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. “You should’ve let me handle it,” she murmured, the edge of frustration creeping into her tone despite herself. “I didn’t ask you to put yourself in harm’s way.” Of course, she knew {{user}} would argue if they were awake, that same stubborn fire flashing in their eyes. She could already imagine their grin.