By late afternoon, the change was no longer subtle.
It was unmistakable.
Shae’s usual sharp awareness dulled at the edges first—small pauses between responses, a fractionally delayed blink, the kind of stillness that didn’t come from control anymore.
It came from effort.
The monitors caught it before she did.
A steady climb in temperature.
102.0°F.
Then a brief spike above it before settling again, as if her body couldn’t decide whether to stabilize or escalate.
Cassandra saw the readout and didn’t speak for a full three seconds.
Which, for her, was a long time.
Then she turned.
“Vitals again.” A nurse quickly complied.
“Confirmed spike to 102.3°F, holding unstable.” Cassandra’s jaw tightened.
“Increase cooling support.
Adjust antibiotic infusion rate.
I want infectious disease consult on standby.” “Yes, Colonel.” Shae shifted in the bed.
Her face looked different now.
Less composed.
Still trying, but the effort was slipping through.
“I’m fine,” she said again, though the words came slower this time.
“It’s just… fever.” Cassandra looked at her.
And didn’t answer immediately.
Because Shae did not look fine.
Not even close.
Her skin was flushed.
Her breathing slightly heavier than normal.
The confident tone that usually came without effort was now something she had to actively pull into place.
“You are not fine,” Cassandra said finally.
Shae frowned.
“I’ve had worse infections.” “That is not relevant.” “It is to me.” Cassandra stepped closer to the bedside.
“Your temperature is climbing despite treatment.” Shae waved a weak hand.
“That happens sometimes.” “No,” Cassandra corrected sharply.
“Not like this.
Not this fast.” That made Shae pause.
Just for a second.
Another monitor beeped.
A nurse spoke quickly.
“Colonel, heart rate is elevated to 118 bpm.” Cassandra exhaled slowly through her nose.
Then turned slightly.
“Escalate antibiotics.
Now.
I want MRSA-specific coverage, not broad-spectrum fallback.” “We’re adjusting, ma’am.” “Double-check dosing.
I want precision, not approximation.” The room moved faster after that.
Too fast.
Even for medical.
Shae watched it all with growing irritation she no longer had the energy to properly express.
“You’re overreacting,” she muttered again.
Cassandra looked at her immediately.
And this time, there was no patience left in the expression.
“No,” she said firmly.
“I am responding appropriately to a worsening systemic infection.” Shae shifted slightly, wincing.
“It’s just a fever spike.” Cassandra’s voice dropped.
“It is a progressing infection.” Shae opened her mouth.
Closed it again.
For once, the argument didn’t come easily.
Cassandra stepped closer to the bed.
Her arms were no longer crossed.
She was actively working now.
Checking monitors herself.
Verifying IV flow rates.
Watching Shae’s breathing pattern like she was trying to read a battlefield map.
And underneath it all—barely visible, but there—was something sharper.
Concern that was no longer contained by professionalism.
“You are going to stay still,” Cassandra said.
“I am still still.” “That is not helpful.” Shae gave a faint, tired breath that might have been a laugh in another context.
“…Still sounds like a you problem.” Cassandra didn’t respond to that.
Instead, she adjusted the IV line herself.
Then turned to the staff again.
“I want continuous monitoring.
No gaps.
If she spikes again, I want immediate notification—no delays.” “Yes, Colonel.” “And prep ICU escalation protocols.” That got a pause.
Even from experienced staff.
“Yes, ma’am.” Shae’s eyes tracked Cassandra now.
“You’re making it sound worse than it is.” Cassandra finally looked at her directly.
And her tone softened just slightly—enough to be noticeable, but not enough to lose authority.
“It is worse than you are acknowledging.” Shae frowned faintly.
“I don’t feel great.” Cassandra’s gaze sharpened.
“That is the first accurate thing you’ve said all day.” Shae huffed weakly.
“Progress.” Cassandra leaned in slightly, studying her again.
The fever flush was more pronounced now.
The resistance to it less convincing.Still Shae.
Still conscious.
Still fighting.
But not at full strength anymore.
And Cassandra didn’t like that at all.
Not in the way of inconvenience.
In the way of risk.
“You are not leaving this hospital bed,” Cassandra said again.
Shae gave a slow nod.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” “That is not reassuring.” Shae’s eyes drifted briefly closed, then opened again.
“…I’m still fine.” Cassandra held her gaze for a long moment.
Then, quietly but firmly: “No.
You are not.” And for once, she didn’t argue further.
She just stayed where she was.
Watching.
Making sure the situation did not get any worse than it already had.