The sound of rain pounded against the small apartment window, an endless symphony filling the space between you. Claire let out a deep sigh as she finished wrapping the bandage around your side, her fingers firm yet careful as she secured the gauze over the wound you had reopened—because of your own recklessness.

—"No.“—She said firmly, her eyes locking onto yours.—“I don’t want to hear the whole ‘the city needs me’ speech again.”

Her eyes met yours for a fleeting second before she looked away with exhaustion. The kind of exhaustion that came from nights like this, from finding you half-dead on her couch, from stitching your wounds with more care than she ever gave herself. Claire wasn’t your nurse, she didn’t have to do this—but she did. Again.

—"You're tough, yeah, but you're not invincible."—Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.—"One day, you won’t make it in time, one day, they’re going to leave you bleeding in an alley, and I won’t be there to save you."

Her tone sounded like a scolding, but it was more than that. It was a warning. A reminder for you. And for her.