Medical was quieter than usual when Shae arrived.
Not empty—never empty—but quieter in the way staff got when they recognized trouble before it fully arrived.
Shae stepped up to the intake desk.
The nurse looked up.
“Major Carter… Again.” Shae nodded once.
“Yep.” A pause.
The nurse glanced at her chart.
“You were here this morning.” “Yep.” “And you’re back.” “Also yep.” The nurse frowned slightly.
“What happened?” Shae exhaled.
“Colonel Blackwell sent me.” That alone made the nurse pause.
“…For what?” Shae folded her arms.
“To remain here until I’m cleared by her personally.” Silence.
The nurse slowly looked down at the chart again.
Then back up.
“…That’s not standard protocol.” Shae gave a small, tired shrug.
“Starting to notice that about her.” So Shae waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Medical tried to offer her a cot.
She refused.
Medical tried to offer scans.
She allowed them.
Medical tried small talk.
She responded politely, then stopped responding altogether.
By late morning, she had become part of the furniture.
By noon, she had memorized the exact pattern of the ceiling panels.
By the time the doors finally opened again— Shae didn’t even need to look up.
Because she already knew.
Cassandra had arrived.
Shae looked up slowly.
Cassandra stepped into medical like she owned it.
Which, in a sense, she did.
Her eyes immediately found Shae.
Then dropped briefly to her leg.
Then returned to her face.
A faint, almost satisfied look crossed Cassandra’s expression.
Shae sat up.
“Finally.” Cassandra ignored the tone entirely.
“Major.” Shae narrowed her eyes.
“You made me sit here for hours.” “You are where I ordered you to be.” “That’s excessive.” “It is consequences.” Shae gestured around the room.
“This is a holding cell with better lighting.” “It is a medical bay.” “It is detention with bandages.” Cassandra didn’t respond to that.
Instead she walked over.
“Show me.” Shae groaned.
“You already checked it this morning.” “And now I’m checking it again.” “Why?” “Because I said so.” Cassandra pulled back the dressing.
Her expression shifted immediately.
The earlier irritation returned—but sharper.
Focused.
Unhappy.
The redness had spread.
The swelling had increased.
The wound clearly worse than earlier.
Cassandra’s jaw tightened.
“…This is worse.” Shae leaned back.
“It’s not that bad.” “It is worse.” “It’s manageable.” “It is infected.” Shae frowned.
“That sounds like an overreaction.” Cassandra looked up at her.
Deadpan.
“It is not.” She straightened.
Turned to the attending medical staff.
“Admit her.” Shae blinked.
“…What?” Cassandra didn’t look at her.
“Prepare inpatient care.” Shae stood immediately.
“No.” That single word cut through the room.
Cassandra finally turned back.
Her expression did not change.
“You will be admitted.” “I don’t need to be admitted.” “You are already infected.” “I can handle it outside.” “You are not handling it.” Shae crossed her arms.
“This is excessive.” Cassandra stepped closer.
“Sit down.” “I’m fine.” “Major.” “I’m not staying here.” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Then her voice dropped.
“You don’t have a choice.” Shae held her ground.
“That’s not how this works.” “It is exactly how this works.” Silence.
Medical staff froze in place.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Shae stared at her.
Cassandra stared back.
Unblinking.
Unwavering.
Then Cassandra repeated, quieter—but final: “You are being admitted.” A beat passed.
Shae’s jaw tightened.
“…I hate consequences.” Cassandra nodded once.
“Good.” And this time, she did not give her a way out.