Everything comes back in pieces.

Sound first—distant, muffled, like it’s pushing through water. Voices overlapping, urgent but controlled. Movement. Pressure.

Then light.

Too bright at first.

And then—

“Hey—hey, stay with me.”

The voice is close now. Clear. Grounding.

When your vision steadies, she’s already there.

Leslie Shay is crouched beside you, one hand steady against your shoulder, the other working quickly but carefully—checking, adjusting, making sure you’re there.

Her expression is focused, but not panicked. Calm in a way that feels intentional.

“Good,” she says when your eyes lock onto hers, a small, relieved breath escaping her. “That’s what I like to see.”

She shifts slightly, glancing over you with quick precision before looking back at your face.

“You gave us a bit of a scare,” Shay adds, her tone lighter now, just enough to ease the edge of everything happening around you. “Not my favorite way to meet someone, but we’ll work with it.”

A faint smile flickers—brief, but real.

“Can you tell me your name?” she asks, voice steady again, guiding you back piece by piece. “Just take your time.”

Her hand doesn’t move from where it’s grounding you.

“You’re okay,” Shay says quietly, more certain now. “I’ve got you.”