He can tell you’re not all that pleased with him, his promise to wake you at seven in the morning having been broken. But how could he disturb you while you were in such desperate need for rest?

The medbay is quiet as he watches you effortlessly change the bandage that’s fastened over his knife wound.

He’d worked hard to convince you to get some sleep. It was evident that you needed it; being the only nurse on base and having worked tirelessly to patch up his wound.

And as he studies your features for a moment, initially watching your concentration, he realises something’s wrong.

You’re quiet, and your skin looks sickly pale. Just like half the soldiers’ had been when the flu tore through the base.

His fingertips grazing beneath your jaw. Tilting your chin upwards as his eyes meet your own.

“Are you okay?”