The scan room swallowed her.
Cold.
White.
Machine-lit.
They wheeled Juliette inside, her body small against the metallic frame of the bed, her hair fanned out in a way that made her look even more breakable.
Cassian followed like a shadow carved out of storm clouds.
A nurse tried to block him one more time.
"Sir, you really shouldn't "
He didn't answer.
He didn't look at her.
He just stepped around the nurse and positioned himself at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on Juliette as the scanning machine hummed to life.
The surgeon didn't push further.
No one wanted to be the person who told this man "no."
Juliette's head was lifted gently and placed into the cradle of the machine.
She didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't wake.
Her silence was unbearable.
Cassian's hands curled into fists, knuckles bone-white.
The surgeon spoke quietly, explaining the process, but Cassian didn't hear a word.
All he heard was the machine.
All he saw was her chest rising too slowly beneath the thin hospital sheet.
All he felt was something inside him breaking slowly, quietly, mercilessly.
Minutes felt like hours.
Every beep of the monitor stabbed him.
After the first scan, the surgeon said,
"We need to do another angle. Possible swelling."
Cassian's heart dropped.
Possible swelling.
Two words that tasted like fear.
His eyes locked onto her face pale, still, lashes resting gently against her skin. Her lips were slightly parted under the oxygen mask, trembling with each shallow breath.
He didn't realize he'd moved until he was standing beside her again.
He touched her wrist.
Barely.
Softly.
As if afraid she would crumble.
"Juliette…"
His voice was low, almost unrecognizable even to himself.
The nurse looked up, startled by the sound of it.
Not anger.
Not command.
Not coldness.
Something vulnerable.
Something human.
Cassian bowed his head, shoulders rigid, breath shaking as he whispered near her hand:
"You're fighting too slowly… wake up. Just breathe. Just stay."
The beeping steadied.
Barely.
Then dipped again.
Cassian's jaw clenched, eyes flashing toward the machines.
"What does that mean?" he demanded sharply.
The surgeon answered calmly, professionally:
"She's under shock. Her blood pressure is unstable. We're monitoring it."
It wasn't enough.
Not for him.
"What else?" Cassian pressed, taking a step forward.
"Sir"
"What. Else."
"She needs to respond soon. Her body is exhausted."
His world narrowed to that sentence.
She needs to respond soon.
His pulse pounded in his ears.
His lungs tightened.
His body went cold, then hot, then cold again.
He moved closer to her.
The surgeon opened his mouth to stop him but something in Cassian's face made him stay silent.
Cassian leaned down until his forehead almost brushed hers.
"This is the part," he whispered, voice unsteady for the first time in his life,
"…where you come back."
His hand slid into hers again.
No hesitation.
No distance.
No pretending anymore.
He held on.
Tightly.
Desperately.
Like she was the only anchor in a world suddenly spinning too fast.
Her hand didn't tighten back.
That was the part that killed him.
Twenty minutes passed.
Twenty minutes of machines humming, nurses moving, the surgeon reviewing images, medical orders being given…
And Cassian not moving.
Not speaking.
Just watching.
Watching her chest rise and fall like each breath was borrowed time.
At minute twenty-one, the surgeon turned.
"Mr. Vale."
Cassian lifted his head instantly.
"We're seeing pressure around the site of impact. We need to run one more"
"No."
Cassian's voice cut like steel.
"Run everything. All of it. Every scan. Every test. I don't care what it takes."
"We're doing that, sir," the surgeon said gently.
Cassian's breathing changed sharper, uneven as if he didn't know how to hold himself together anymore.
He looked at Juliette again.
Her fingers were still cold inside his.
He ran his thumb across her knuckles, the way he did earlier, repeating that small gesture he didn't even realize he'd started doing.
A nurse whispered to another,
"He hasn't let go of her hand since she arrived."
Cassian didn't hear them.
His world was her.
Only her.
Another ten minutes passed before the scan ended and the team prepared to move her back to Trauma Room Three.
As they lifted her gently, Cassian's hand didn't leave hers.
He walked beside the bed, step for step, his thumb brushing her skin the entire way.
Nurses pushed the stretcher.
Doctors murmured instructions.
The hallway smelled of disinfectant and rain.
And Cassian
Cassian walked like a man returning from a battlefield.
Not victorious.
Not defeated.
Just bruised in a way no one could see.
They reached the trauma room.
The surgeon said softly:
"We'll monitor her blood pressure closely. If she wakes within the hour, she'll be stable. If not"
Cassian stopped moving.
The surgeon froze.
Cassian's voice was low.
Dangerous.
Broken.
"If not…?"
"We'll have to intervene further."
Cassian inhaled slowly.
Painfully.
"Do it," he said.
"All of it. Anything. Whatever she needs."
The surgeon nodded and stepped away.
Cassian sat back in the chair beside her.
Same chair.
Same posture.
Same hand holding hers.
He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, staring at her face like he was memorizing it.
Rain still clung to his hair.
His clothes were still wet.
He hadn't wiped his face since he arrived.
He whispered:
"I'm here."
And for the first time in his life
Cassian Vale was afraid of the quiet.
Afraid of what it meant.
Afraid of what losing her would do to him.
He didn't leave her side.
Not for water.
Not for air.
Not for himself.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited
for the moment Juliette opened her eyes.