Cassian
The hospital room was still. Too still.
Cassian stood by the window, arms folded tightly against his chest. Rain pattered against the glass like nervous fingertips, soft but persistent. He had come here every morning since Elias had been brought in. He didn't know why. Maybe guilt. Maybe hope. Maybe both.
Elias hadn't moved in days.
Until now.
Cassian blinked, leaned forward, and stared. The index finger on Elias's right hand had just twitched.
"No way," Cassian whispered.
He stepped closer, brushing away the thought that it might have been his imagination. He watched... and waited. A long moment passed. Nothing. The monitor beeped steadily, taunting him with its sameness.
"I must be going crazy," he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.
He turned around just as the door opened. Damien stepped in, his usual armor of cold composure already showing cracks beneath his eyes.
"He moved," Cassian said quickly. "Just a finger, maybe. I could be wrong, though."
Damien froze mid-step. His gaze snapped to Elias's hand.
"Which finger?"
"Right index. I think."
Damien stormed over and took Elias's hand gently but urgently. He bent over him.
"Elias," he whispered. "Can you hear me? Try again. Move your hand."
Nothing.
Damien turned sharply. "Get the nurse. Now."
Cassian didn't argue. Moments later, a nurse came and checked his vitals, confirming there was no significant neurological activity yet.
"Reflex movement," she said politely. "It happens sometimes."
But Damien didn't look convinced.
After the nurse left, Cassian lingered at the doorway. Damien remained by Elias's bedside, holding his hand like it was the only anchor he had left.
"You okay?" Cassian asked.
Damien didn't look up. "No."
Silence stretched before Damien finally added, his voice ragged:
"If he doesn't make it, that's it. Everything I ever promised Noah... gone."
Cassian felt a knot form in his throat.
"What exactly did you promise?"
Damien hesitated. His fingers trembled against Elias's hand.
"That I'd protect him. No matter what. I already failed Noah once. Elias was supposed to be my chance to make it right."
Cassian exhaled softly, unsure what to say. He watched Damien closely. The more time passed, the more it became clear: there were layers to Damien Cross. Too many.
---
Later that afternoon, Cassian returned from getting coffee and spotted someone speaking to the doctor outside Elias's room.
The new officer. The woman with slick black hair and unreadable eyes.
She was dressed in her formal attire today, badge glinting like a warning. She stood too close to the doctor, her voice too low.
Curious, Cassian walked over just as she said:
"I always wondered how he'd look up close. He's not what I expected."
The doctor, clearly confused, nodded and excused himself.
Cassian narrowed his eyes. "You talking about Elias?"
The woman smiled faintly. "I didn't realize you were listening."
"I was."
She offered a hand. "Officer Mara Lynn. Transferred from North precinct."
He shook it. Her grip was too firm. "Cassian Rowe. You have been his doctor for a while now. I heard you two are quite close. I knew Elias Brother Noah, when he was alive. We worked together."
That stopped him cold.
Cassian frowned. "You didn't mention that earlier."
She looked unbothered. "Didn't think it was relevant. It was a long time ago."
Cassian was about to ask more, but she had already turned her back, heels clicking down the corridor.
His gaze lingered on her retreating form. Something didn't sit right.
---
Damien
Night fell. The ward was quieter. Too quiet.
Damien sat in the dark room, fingers wrapped tightly around Elias's hand. The only light came from the soft monitor glow.
"You twitched today."
His voice cracked. He hadn't cried in front of anyone since Noah died. But here, alone, with Elias hovering between life and death, he broke again.
"Don't give up. You hear me? You were born to survive worse than this."
He brought Elias's hand to his forehead.
"You're not just Noah's little brother anymore. You're… mine too. You have to wake up, Elias. For all the things I failed to say."
A silent tear slid down his cheek.
Behind the door, unseen, someone watched through the narrow window.
Officer Celeste Rowe.
She didn't smile. She didn't speak. She simply reached into her inner coat pocket and pulled out an old photo.
Two boys. Younger. One was clearly Noah Vale. The other... obscured by her thumb.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then she slipped it back into her pocket.
As she turned away, a whisper only the hallway walls heard:
"One more down... one to go."