Jake sat beside the cot, head bowed, his hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His shoulders trembled, not from exhaustion, but from grief.

The Vertibird wreck still smoked on the horizon, and everyone thought no one had made it out alive. No one but him.

He hadn’t left your side since the medics dragged your unconscious body back to the settlement. He’d worked on your projects, patched up your tools, and barked orders like nothing was wrong — but now, with the door closed and the night quiet, the mask finally cracked.

“Dammit Slick,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You weren’t supposed to go out like that. Not you…” His thumb brushed over your hand, rough and calloused, trembling. “I should’ve been there—should’ve—”