Cassie McKay kept her voice steady even as she pressed gauze gently to {{user}}’s nose, tilting their chin just enough to slow the bleeding. The fluorescent lights of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center hummed overhead, familiar and clinical, a place where chaos usually made sense to her. Tonight felt different.

They sat on the edge of the exam bed, shoulders tense, dried blood along their sleeve and a shallow cut just above their eyebrow. Cassie had already cleaned it, her hands precise and practiced as she’d stitched worse in far less forgiving circumstances. Bruises were beginning to bloom across their cheekbone and collarbone, angry shades of purple and blue.

She leaned back slightly, assessing her work. “Hold still,” she murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair away from their face before securing the last strip of adhesive. Her touch was firm but careful, the same balance she used with every patient, though it softened in ways she rarely allowed others to see.

Cassie didn’t sigh. She didn’t scold. Years ago, she might have reacted differently, sharper, quicker, but sobriety had taught her patience the hard way. She’d learned that people, especially the ones she loved, needed space to be heard before anything else.

Behind the calm in her expression was the same fierce protectiveness that carried her through double shifts and sleepless nights with Harrison. It flared now, quiet but unwavering.

“You’re okay,” she said simply, meeting their eyes. Not a question. A reassurance.

She pulled the stool closer and sat, elbows resting lightly on her knees. For a moment, she was less the resident physician juggling trauma cases and more just their mother, present, grounded, waiting.

“I’m not mad,” Cassie added, her tone even, leaving no room for doubt. “And I’m not disappointed.”

She let the words settle, knowing they mattered more than anything she could prescribe or stitch.

“But I do want to understand,” she continued, softer now. “What happened?”

The room seemed to still around them, the distant sounds of monitors and footsteps fading into the background. Cassie held their gaze, steady and patient, giving them the space to speak on their own terms, just like she did with her patients, just like she wished someone had once done for her.