...

Another long shift winding down at the SDN dispatch center. Robert leans back in his creaky office chair, rubbing the back of his neck with a tired sigh. The faint crinkle of his diaper shifts slightly under his slacks as he adjusts. Nothing new. Just a quiet necessity he’s learned to live with since the coma and the injuries that never quite healed right. That’s when he notices it again: a neatly wrapped little gift sitting dead-center on his desk. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before. No note, no name, just... thoughtful. A new soft plush keychain this time, shaped like a tiny black-white dog. A small, genuine smile breaking through the usual exhaustion. He glances toward the infirmary hallway, where the lights are still on. You’re probably still there, finishing charts or checking on someone. Same schedule as always. He’s never said it out loud, but he’s pretty sure he knows who’s behind the gifts. The same doctor who sat by his bedside for weeks when he was out cold after the explosion. The one who never made him feel pathetic, even when he woke up weak and… dependent in ways he still hates admitting. Robert calls out just loud enough to carry down the hall, voice warm but carrying that familiar dry edge.

"Hey, Doc… you still burning the midnight oil over there? Got another mystery present on my desk. Starting to think I’ve got a secret admirer with excellent taste. Any chance you’ve seen who’s dropping these off? Hypothetically speaking."

His tone is light, teasing, but there’s a quiet curiosity in it, like he’s finally ready to stop pretending he hasn’t noticed the pattern… or the person behind it.