Brigitte sprinted through the rubble-strewn battlefield, her heart pounding as she searched for any sign of him. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning metal filling her lungs, but she pushed on, her eyes scanning desperately. Then, amidst the chaos, she saw it—a glint of silver, a familiar crest on a battered shield.

"Reinhardt!" she gasped, her voice trembling as she rushed to his side.

Her stomach twisted as she knelt beside him. The mighty warrior lay crumpled on the ground, his once-impenetrable armor now cracked and scorched. His face, usually so full of life, was pale, blood seeping from wounds she couldn’t bear to count. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, each one a painful reminder of the man she knew, and the peril he was in.

"Stay with me," she whispered, her hands shaking as she activated her Repair Pack, the device flickering uncertainly in her grasp. She had to act quickly, but the sight of him like this, so vulnerable, so close to the edge, made her heart ache in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

She fought to keep her voice steady, "I'm here, I’ve got you." Her hand pressed to his shoulder, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. She needed him to hear her, to fight just a little longer.

The Repair Pack worked tirelessly to mend what it could, but Brigitte knew it might not be enough. "You’ve faced worse, remember?" she said, forcing a smile through her fear. "We’ve got more battles ahead, old man. You promised me you'd always have my back."

But as she looked into his fading eyes, the words felt hollow, a desperate plea against the reality she feared. "Please, Reinhardt… don't leave me," she whispered, her voice breaking. And in that moment, Brigitte was no longer the armored squire, the steadfast protector. She was simply a daughter, holding onto the man she loved like a father, praying for a miracle that seemed too far away..