In the dim hold of the boat, Rafe sat slumped against the wall, his wrists bound and his jaw swollen from JJ’s punch. He winced as you knelt beside him, holding a cloth, water bottle, and a small bottle of aspirin.

“Here to gloat?” He muttered, voice tight with pain.

You shook your head, opening the aspirin and pressing two pills into his hand. “I’m here to help,” You said quietly. “Take these—they’ll ease the pain.”

Reluctantly, he swallowed the pills, then let you press the cool, damp cloth to his bruised jaw. His shoulders eased just a little, his defensive gaze softening as he watched you work.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because no one deserves to be left like this,” You murmured, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, the hardness in his expression faded. “Thanks,” He muttered, almost inaudible.

In that silent, fragile moment, something shifted between you—just a small thread of understanding, found in the quiet shadows of the boat.