Cassandra tied off the final stitch and set the surgical instruments aside.
“There.” The wound had been cleaned, closed, and properly dressed.
Given the depth of the laceration, it would take time to heal, but barring any complications, Shae would recover fully.
Cassandra’s hand remained against Shae’s side for a moment.
Just a moment.
Long enough for her to feel the steady rise and fall of Shae’s breathing beneath her fingertips.
Long enough to realize she should have already pulled away.
She withdrew her hand and straightened immediately.
Professional.
Composed.
As though nothing unusual had happened.
Across the examination table, Shae had clearly noticed.
But to Cassandra’s relief—or perhaps annoyance—she said nothing.
The faint smile at the corner of Shae’s mouth suggested she was aware of more than she let on.
That, somehow, made it worse.
Clearing her throat, Cassandra picked up a datapad.
“You’ll need to keep the dressing clean and dry.” Shae nodded.
“No strenuous physical activity for at least several days.” Another nod.
“No combat training.” That earned a visible reaction.
A slight grimace.
Cassandra pointed at her before she could argue.
“No sparring.” Shae sighed dramatically.
“You’re taking all the fun out of my week.” Cassandra ignored the comment.
“No heavy lifting.” “No unnecessary strain.” “And if the wound starts bleeding again, you report to medical immediately.” When she finally finished, Shae’s expression was one of exaggerated patience.
“I’ll do my best to follow them.” Cassandra slowly lowered the datapad.
The look she gave her could have frozen engine coolant.
“I expect you to follow those orders.” Shae’s smile widened.
“Yes, ma’am.” The answer sounded entirely sincere.
Which meant Cassandra trusted it approximately zero percent.
A few seconds passed.
Then Shae added, “I will.” Cassandra raised an eyebrow.
“As long as it doesn’t affect my ability to do my job.” There it was.
The catch.
Cassandra stared at her.
Part of her admired it.
The dedication.
The work ethic.
The refusal to let injury become an excuse.
Those qualities created exceptional officers.
They also created exceptionally frustrating patients.
Because Cassandra could already imagine exactly what would happen.
Shae would feel better.
Then she’d decide she was healed.
Then she’d tear every stitch she’d just spent the last twenty minutes putting in.
The thought irritated her far more than it should have.
Finally Cassandra folded her arms.
“If you tear those stitches, there will be consequences.” Shae tilted her head slightly.
The expression was almost curious.
Almost innocent.
Almost.
“What kind of consequences?” Cassandra immediately recognized the trap.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop several possible answers from crossing her mind.
She chose the safest one.
“The kind authorized by a commanding officer.” Shae looked thoughtful.
“Hmm.” “I wouldn’t test that.” “No?” “No.” The certainty in Cassandra’s voice left little room for debate.
For a moment they simply regarded one another.
Then Shae leaned back slightly against the examination table.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been threatened for healing incorrectly.” “It wasn’t a threat.” “It sounded like one.” “It was an order.” “Ah.” Shae nodded as though that explained everything.
Then she smiled again.
That easy, confident smile that somehow managed to be both respectful and infuriating at the same time.
“Understood, Colonel.” Cassandra was beginning to suspect that Major Shae Carter enjoyed provoking people.
Specifically her.
The realization was unsettling.
Because despite herself, Cassandra found she didn’t entirely mind.
Which was a far more dangerous thought than anything that had happened in the simulation.