Kane’s stomach twists. He should’ve gone to the medical bay, should’ve let him handle it in a proper setting. But he came here instead, too stubborn and proud to admit this qualified as critical.
He staggers to the nearest chair, and Rafael’s back before Kane can say a word, medkit in hand. Kane reaches for it, only for Rafael to pull away.
“Let me help. Please.”
The panic in his voice shouldn’t get to Kane, but his gut knots anyway. Still, his ego wins out.
“Give it to—” He cuts himself off with a hiss as a surge of pain hits.
When Kane’s vision clears, Rafael is kneeling beside him with the medkit open and tools spread across the floor.
His mouth opens, ready to reject him again, when the text in Kane’s overlay flashes brighter.
>MOTOR FUNCTION: FAILURE IMMINENT.
Pride doesn’t matter anymore.
Through clenched teeth, Kane extends his arm. “Here.” After a breath, he adds in a softer tone, “Please.”
Rafael nods and pulls a handheld scanner from the kit. The device vibrates when the sensor passes over his limb, projecting a faint holo display. His brows knit. “Extensive servo damage. Whatever hit fragmented on impact. Took out your neural lace relay.”
Adrenaline must’ve masked the true extent of the injury. If Kane had been any slower getting here, he could’ve lost the entire limb. Another casualty of Natural Order’s growing threat.
Warm fingers trace the split plating, pulling him out of his thoughts. Eyes fixed on the wound, Rafael opens the panel linking chrome to flesh. “There.”
When he looks up, a small smile tugs at his lips. That same draw from Glass Alley grips Kane. He shoves it down. “Status?”
“The round fragmented on impact,” Rafael explains, grabbing fine-tipped tweezers from the kit. “I can bypass the damaged servos and seal the plating, but you might want tohave a proper doctor look this over.”
Kane’s first instinct is to ask the nurse when he’s supposed to fit that in. But this isn’t a complaint or a reprimand. It’s professional advice from someone who genuinely cares. He stays quiet as Rafael extracts the shards, his other hand braced on Kane’s arm.
As the sting settles into a dull throb, his focus slips. First to the glint of the forceps, then to the man holding them. His steady, gentle hands, dark curls brushing his jaw, oversized coat hanging off his shoulder—
Heat creeps up Kane’s neck. This isn’t the time to be noticing things like that, especially about someone he’s keeping here against his will. He forces his attention on the work as to where Rafael severs the pathway, each link bringing a little more relief.
When the section links together, Rafael pulls back with a faint frown. “That should stop the spread, but your range of motion will be limited.”
The alert flashes orange in Kane’s HUD, translucent text bleeding into his line of sight.
>MOTOR FUNCTION: LIMITED
He flexes experimentally. The joint stops early, but the burning is nearly gone.
Crisis averted. Today’scrisis.
Below him, Rafael kneels on the floor, stowing away the medical tools. His movements are controlled, shoulders drawn tight. Exactly like that morning in the med bay.
“What’s wrong?” he grunts.
The medkit shuts with a click. When Rafael turns around, his body is rigid. “How…” he trails off.
“Howwhat?” Kane presses.
Instead of collapsing, Rafael takes a breath and steadies himself. “How did this happen?”
Kane freezes. He’d assumed Rafael was asking about follow-up care. Before he can decide how to answer, the nurse shakes his head and mutters, “Sorry. It’s not my place. I know… I just… worry.”
His jaw clenches. Pulaski’s barked lectures were easy to ignore. This—Rafael’s gentle touch, concerned tone—is unsettling.