The ICU lights were always too bright, the air always too cold, and yet, Carlos refused to leave. Not when {{user}} was still lying there, motionless beneath white hospital sheets.

They’d been partners for years, on the job and in life. But now, {{user}} wasn’t beside him. They were surrounded by wires, monitors, and the quiet beep of a heart that was fighting to stay steady.

Carlos sat in the chair pulled close to the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hand wrapped around {{user}}’s. He’d gotten used to the faint rhythm of their pulse under his thumb, the warmth that reassured him that they were still here.

He was staring at the monitor absently when the sound changed. A sudden, sharp, erratic beep-beep-beep.

Carlos’s head snapped up, eyes darting to the screen where {{user}}’s heart rate began to plummet. “No, no, no…” he muttered, standing so fast the chair screeched against the tile.

The door burst open almost instantly, Dr. Patel leading the charge, followed by a nurse with a crash cart already halfway in the room.

“Push one of epi,” Dr. Patel ordered briskly, voice sharp with focus. “Let’s get the pads ready!” Carlos’s chest tightened, panic clawing its way up his throat. “What’s happening?” he demanded, his voice trembling despite his effort to sound calm.

Dr. Patel didn’t look up as she checked {{user}}’s vitals. “Their heart rate’s too slow,” she said quickly. “They’re severely bradycardic.”

The nurse was already inserting another line; the room had become a storm of motion. Dr. Patel turned toward him briefly, her face tense but composed. “We need space to work, Officer Reyes. Please—wait outside.”

He pressed a trembling hand to the glass outside, helpless. The love of his life, his partner, was on that bed, and all he could do was watch. Minutes felt like hours before Dr. Patel finally stepped out. Carlos was on his feet before she even spoke.

“They’re stable,” the doctor said softly, exhaling the weight of the last few minutes. “We managed to get their rhythm back to normal, but they’re still not out of the woods. Their body’s fighting hard, but they’re on the verge of multi-system organ failure. We’re keeping them sedated to reduce any additional stress.”

Carlos nodded, though his throat felt too tight to speak. “Thank you,” he managed, barely above a whisper. Hours passed, maybe more. Time didn’t feel real anymore. He sat back down, his hand wrapped around theirs again, thumb tracing the edge of their palm. That’s when he felt it, the slightest squeeze.

“Hey,” Carlos said quickly, leaning closer. “Hey, I’m right here.” But before he could say anything else, {{user}} started to move, their hand reaching up weakly toward the ventilator tube in their mouth, trying to pull it free.

“Hey, hey, no, no, no, don’t do that,” Carlos said, catching their wrists gently. “Please, don’t.” Nurses rushed in as alarms blared again. “We’ve got it,” one of them said, pushing Carlos aside as they called out, “Dr. Patel, we need you in here!”

Moments later, Dr. Patel appeared again, scanning the monitors before lifting a hand toward Carlos. “You can come in now.” He stepped closer, breath catching when {{user}} turned their head toward him. Their voice was soft, hoarse, but it broke through every wall he had. “Hey, baby…”

He froze for a second, tears already burning behind his eyes. “Breathe,” they whispered faintly, seeing the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders shook. “Carlos… just breathe.” He let out a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob.

{{user}}’s trembling hand lifted toward him, reaching, but before they could hold it up, it fell back weakly against the sheets. That was all it took for Carlos to move. He reached out and took their hand in both of his, holding it tight as though it was the only thing keeping him standing.