Turn down the fucking lights.

That was Soap's first thought when he opened his eyes. Clawing through layers of medicated fog until he could feel the hospital sheets beneath his hands. Dull throb of pain radiating from somewhere inside his skull. His mouth tasted like shite and when he tried to move his body let him know in no uncertain terms that that wasnae happening.

He blinked. Watched the ceiling tiles come into focus. White. Institutional. Steady beep of a heart monitor beside him and somewhere beyond the door voices speaking in low urgent tones.

Base hospital. He knew the smell. Knew the silence that meant classified floors and restricted access. He'd woken up in places like this before. After too many missions that had gone sideways in ways the official reports would never capture.

Something was wrong though. Why was he here? What happened?

He'd never had a hit so bad he couldnae remember the mission before. It was like a shape in the darkness that kept slipping away every time he reached for it. What the fuck had gone wrong?

The door opened.

Soap's eyes tracked the movement automatically. Threat assessment running on instinct even through the haze of whatever they'd given him. Not a doctor. Not a nurse based on the clothes. Someone who moved like they belonged here but didnae wear the uniform.

Someone who looked at him like he'd just rebuilt their heart by breathing.

They were running toward him. Redness around their eyes. Shaking hands. Exhaustion written across their face like they hadnae slept in days. They knew him. That much was obvious from the devastation written across them.

He didnae know them at all.

"Who are you?" Soap's voice came out rough. Scraped raw from intubation and disuse. The words landed like bullets and he watched them flinch like each one had found its mark. "How'd you get clearance for this floor?"

Turn down the fucking lights.

That was Soap's first thought when he opened his eyes. Clawing through layers of medicated fog until he could feel the hospital sheets beneath his hands. Dull throb of pain radiating from somewhere inside his skull. His mouth tasted like shite and when he tried to move his body let him know in no uncertain terms that that wasnae happening.

He blinked. Watched the ceiling tiles come into focus. White. Institutional. Steady beep of a heart monitor beside him and somewhere beyond the door voices speaking in low urgent tones.

Base hospital. He knew the smell. Knew the silence that meant classified floors and restricted access. He'd woken up in places like this before. After too many missions that had gone sideways in ways the official reports would never capture.

Something was wrong though. Why was he here? What happened?

He'd never had a hit so bad he couldnae remember the mission before. It was like a shape in the darkness that kept slipping away every time he reached for it. What the fuck had gone wrong?

The door opened.

Soap's eyes tracked the movement automatically. Threat assessment running on instinct even through the haze of whatever they'd given him. Not a doctor. Not a nurse based on the clothes. Someone who moved like she belonged here but didnae wear the uniform.

Someone who looked at him like he'd just rebuilt her heart by breathing.

She was running toward him. Redness around her eyes. Shaking hands. Exhaustion written across her face like she hadnae slept in days. She knew him. That much was obvious from the devastation written across her.

He didnae know her at all.

"Who are you?" Soap's voice came out rough. Scraped raw from intubation and disuse. The words landed like bullets and he watched her flinch like each one had found its mark. "How'd you get clearance for this floor?"

Turn down the fucking lights.

That was Soap's first thought when he opened his eyes. Clawing through layers of medicated fog until he could feel the hospital sheets beneath his hands. Dull throb of pain radiating from somewhere inside his skull. His mouth tasted like shite and when he tried to move his body let him know in no uncertain terms that that wasnae happening.

Soap blinked. Watched the ceiling tiles come into focus. White. Institutional. Steady beep of a heart monitor beside him and somewhere beyond the door voices speaking in low urgent tones.

Base hospital. Soap knew the smell. Knew the silence that meant classified floors and restricted access. He'd woken up in places like this before. After too many missions that had gone sideways in ways the official reports would never capture.

Something was wrong though. Why was he here? What happened?

Soap had never had a hit so bad he couldnae remember the mission before. It was like a shape in the darkness that kept slipping away every time he reached for it. What the fuck had gone wrong?

The door opened.

Soap's eyes tracked the movement automatically. Threat assessment running on instinct even through the haze of whatever they'd given him. Not a doctor. Not a nurse based on the clothes. Someone who moved like he belonged here but didnae wear the uniform.

Someone who looked at Soap like he'd just rebuilt his heart by breathing.

The man was running toward him. Redness around his eyes. Shaking hands. Exhaustion written across the man's face like he hadnae slept in days. The man knew him. That much was obvious from the devastation written across him.

Soap didnae know the man at all.

"Who are you?" Soap's voice came out rough. Scraped raw from intubation and disuse. The words landed like bullets and he watched the man flinch like each one had found its mark. "How'd you get clearance for this floor?"