Shae lasted exactly forty-three minutes before the confinement stopped feeling like “medical necessity” and started feeling like “personal attack.” Which, in fairness, it still was medical necessity.
But that did not make it less irritating.
She lay back in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling tiles again, arms crossed tightly over her chest like she could physically out-stubborn the situation.
Outside the room, nurses moved quietly.
Occasionally someone checked her vitals.
Occasionally someone pretended not to notice her glaring at nothing in particular.
Shae had opinions about all of it.
None of them polite.
“This is insane,” she muttered to herself.
No response came.
Because Cassandra had, in fact, left explicit instructions that Shae was to remain in bed unless medically supervised.
Which meant everyone was now collectively committed to not arguing with Colonel Cassandra Blackwell.
A decision Shae found both understandable and infuriating.
She shifted slightly.
Immediately regretted it.
Her thigh throbbed.
The infection wasn’t unbearable—but it was present enough to remind her that Cassandra had, once again, been correct.
That was the worst part.
Cassandra being correct.
Ten more minutes passed.
Then another five.
Shae stared at the ceiling.
“…This is ridiculous.” Another minute.
“…I’m not an invalid.” Silence.
Then she exhaled sharply and pushed herself upright.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Testing the leg.
It protested immediately, but not enough to stop her.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Paused.
Listened.
Nothing.
No alarms.
No staff rushing in.
No Cassandra appearing out of nowhere like some kind of tactical inevitability.
“Perfect,” Shae murmured.
She made it to the door without incident.
Made it down the hall without incident.
Even made it to the restroom without incident.
Which, given her current track record, felt like a minor miracle.
When she returned, she moved slower.
Careful.
Controlled.
Because she was technically still supposed to be in bed.
Not that she was breaking rules.
Just… adjusting positioning.
Semantics.
She turned the corner back toward her bay.
And stopped.
Immediately.
Because Cassandra Blackwell was standing there.
Arms crossed.
Expression absolutely still.
Radiating the kind of controlled fury that made entire departments reconsider their life choices.
Shae froze.
“…Hi,” she said carefully.
Cassandra did not move.
Did not blink.
“Where,” she asked evenly, “were you.” Shae gestured vaguely.
“I needed—” “No.” Shae stopped.
Cassandra stepped forward.
Slow.
Measured.
Each step precise.
“I gave you one instruction.” Shae raised a hand slightly.
“It was a brief absence—” “One instruction,” Cassandra repeated.
Shae sighed.
“I went to the restroom.” Cassandra stopped.
Stared at her.
For a moment, just stared.
Then: “…You left your bed.” Shae opened her mouth.
Cassandra continued immediately.
“Without assistance.” “I was gone for two minutes.” “That is not the point.” Shae frowned.
“I didn’t leave the ship.” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.
That was a mistake.
A visible mistake.
“Do you understand,” Cassandra said quietly, “what I said about your condition?” “Yes.” “Then explain to me why you thought ‘two minutes alone’ was an acceptable exception.” Shae hesitated.
“…I had to go.” Cassandra closed her eyes.
Slowly.
Like she was counting something internally.
When she opened them again, the anger was still there—but now it was sharpened into something far more controlled.
“Back to bed.” Shae lifted a finger.
“I’m already on my way.” “Now.” Shae obeyed.
Immediately.
Because that tone left no room for anything else.bShe walked past Cassandra and returned to her bed.
Sat down carefully.
Cassandra followed her in.
Still watching.
Still clearly not satisfied.
Shae glanced up.
“You know,” she said cautiously, “this feels a little extreme.” Cassandra didn’t answer immediately.
She watched her sit.
Watched her leg.
Watched the way Shae moved with just enough restraint to be frustratingly functional.
Then she finally spoke.
“You are not cleared for unsupervised movement.” “I was gone for—” “I don’t care how long you were gone.” Shae leaned back.
“…You’re furious.” “Yes.” “Because I used the restroom.” Cassandra stepped closer to the bed.
Her voice dropped slightly.
“I am furious because I told you not to test the boundaries of your condition and you did it anyway within the first opportunity you had.” Shae blinked.
“…That’s fair.” Cassandra paused.
Just slightly.
That answer, apparently, had not been expected.
Shae continued more quietly.
“I didn’t think it would be an issue.” Cassandra’s expression didn’t soften.
But it did shift—just barely.
“You never think it will be an issue.” Shae didn’t respond to that.
Because it was annoyingly accurate.
Cassandra exhaled through her nose.
Then crossed her arms again.
“You will remain here.” Shae nodded.
“Got it.” “And if you need anything—anything—you call for staff.” “Understood.” Cassandra held her gaze a moment longer.
Then added, quieter but firm: “And if you attempt to ‘solve’ anything yourself again, I will personally double your restrictions.” Shae sighed.
“…That sounds like a challenge.” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed instantly.
Shae immediately raised both hands.
“Noted.
Not a challenge.
Definitely not a challenge.” Cassandra watched her for another beat.
Then turned toward the door.
But before leaving, she paused.
Without looking back, she said: “You are making this very difficult to justify as ‘overreaction.'” Shae called after her: “I’m trying my best.” Cassandra didn’t respond.
But the door closed a little more firmly than necessary.
Thank you so much for reading—I hope you’re enjoying the story so far.
Your comments, votes, and support mean a lot and help keep me motivated to write.
Just a quick heads-up: moving forward, I’m planning to post 2–3 chapters a day, usually around this time.
Thanks for coming along on this journey, and I can’t wait to share more with you all!