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The monitor beeped steadily, unhurried, as the afternoon light shifted across the room. For the first time in a long while, Sico didn't reach for a pen. He closed his eyes and let himself rest.
Morning arrived without ceremony.
There was no blaring alarm, no urgent knock, no shouted orders bleeding through thin walls. Instead, it came the way mornings sometimes did in hospitals that quietly, almost cautiously with slipping in on softened light and the low murmur of a place that never truly slept.
Sico surfaced from sleep slowly.
It wasn't the abrupt wrench back into consciousness he was used to, the kind that left his heart racing before his eyes even opened. This was different. He drifted upward through layers of warmth and dull sensation, aware first of weight, then of sound.
Footsteps.
Close. Measured. Familiar.
"Sico?"
The voice was gentle, practiced in the art of waking someone without startling them. A nurse's voice. Female. Calm.
He frowned faintly, the muscles in his brow tightening as awareness sharpened. His eyelids fluttered once, twice, then opened.
Morning light filled the room in pale gold, slanting through the narrow window to his right. It painted soft shapes across the wall, catching on the metal rail of his bed and the glass of a small tray table positioned near his side.
The nurse stood beside him, holding a tray.
"Good morning," she said quietly, smiling when she saw his eyes focus. "Easy now. You're awake."
Sico blinked, his gaze drifting from her face to the tray she was setting down carefully. The smell reached him a moment later with simple, warm, unmistakably food.
"…morning," he replied, voice still rough but stronger than yesterday.
She adjusted the tray table, sliding it closer to the bed with practiced ease. On it sat a modest breakfast: a bowl of porridge-like grains with bits of dried fruit, a slice of toasted bread, a small dish of something green and leafy, and a metal cup steaming faintly beside a glass of water.
Hospital food, but better than he expected.
"You slept well," the nurse said, checking the monitor briefly before turning back to him. "No fever spikes overnight. That's a good sign."
Sico absorbed that in silence, then shifted slightly, testing his body.
The ache was still there, deep and persistent, but muted. Manageable. His head felt clearer, the pressure behind his eyes reduced to a distant echo.
"Good," he murmured.
The nurse picked up the metal cup last. Unlike the water glass, this one was sealed with a simple lid, the scent stronger that earthy, sharp, tinged with something bitter and something sweet beneath it.
"And this," she said, setting it down carefully, "is something Dr. Curie made for you."
Sico eyed it warily. "That doesn't sound reassuring."
She laughed softly. "It's herbal. Supposed to help with recovery. You're to drink it after you finish eating."
"After," he repeated.
"Yes," she said firmly, already anticipating resistance. "Not before. It can be a little… intense."
He huffed faintly. "That's one way to put it."
The nurse smiled again, then straightened. "Take your time. After breakfast, Dr. Curie will be coming by for a routine check. She wants to see how you're doing today."
Sico's expression tightened just a fraction.
"Routine," he echoed.
"Routine," the nurse confirmed, amused. "Blood pressure, temperature, reflexes. No surprises."
He looked at her. "You say that like you're trying to convince me."
"I am," she admitted lightly.
She adjusted his pillow slightly, then stepped back. "I'll be nearby. Call if you need anything."
With that, she left the room quietly, the door clicking shut behind her.
Sico stared after her for a moment, then shifted his attention back to the tray.
Breakfast.
It had been… he wasn't sure how long since he'd actually eaten a proper meal without multitasking. Without reading reports or dictating orders or standing mid-briefing while shoveling something vaguely edible into his mouth.
He sighed softly and reached for the spoon.
The first bite was warmer than he expected. Simple, but filling. His stomach protested at first, a dull, hollow twist that reminded him just how empty he'd been, but then it settled as he continued eating slowly, deliberately.
Each bite grounded him.
As he ate, his gaze drifted around the room.
It was small, utilitarian, clearly repurposed from something older. The walls bore faint marks where equipment had once been mounted differently. A shelf held a few basic medical supplies. A chair sat near the corner, unused.
Yesterday's memories crept in unbidden.
Sarah's face, tight with concern and barely restrained fury.
Preston's steady voice, refusing to let him brush it off.
Curie's unyielding calm as she forbade him from working.
He exhaled through his nose.
Two days, he thought. Maybe three.
It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did. He'd ordered people to rest before. Ordered them to stand down. To take leave. To recover.
He just hadn't been very good at following his own advice.
He finished the last bite slowly, setting the spoon aside once the bowl was empty. He drank some water, letting it wash the dryness from his throat, then eyed the metal cup again.
The herbal medicine.
It steamed faintly still, releasing that same sharp, earthy scent.
Curie, he thought. Of course.
He lifted the cup and took a cautious sip.
The taste hit him immediately that bitter first, sharp enough to make his tongue recoil, followed by a strange, warming sweetness that lingered in the back of his throat. It wasn't pleasant, exactly, but it wasn't unbearable either.
He grimaced anyway, taking another sip out of stubbornness more than anything.
"…that woman is trying to kill me," he muttered to himself.
But he drank it all.
By the time he set the empty cup down, a warmth had spread through his chest, subtle but noticeable. Not a rush, not a jolt that just a steady, calming heat that made his limbs feel heavier, more relaxed.
He leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes briefly.
Footsteps approached again a short while later, firmer this time, more purposeful.
The door opened.
Curie entered without ceremony, a small tablet tucked under one arm, her lab coat pristine as ever. She paused just inside the room, her gaze immediately flicking to the tray table.
Her eyes narrowed.
"You drank it," she said.
It wasn't a question.
Sico opened his eyes. "Every drop."
"Good," Curie replied, satisfaction threading through the word. She crossed the room and set the tablet down, then reached for the monitor. "And you ate."
"Yes."
"And you did not attempt to leave the bed."
He tilted his head slightly. "I considered it."
Curie gave him a look.
"…briefly," he amended.
She hummed, unconvinced, and began her routine with practiced efficiency. Fingers at his wrist. A thermometer. A blood pressure cuff tightened around his arm.
He endured it without complaint.
"Your temperature is lower," Curie said, studying the reading. "Still elevated, but improving."
She checked his eyes again, then his reflexes, tapping lightly at his knee.
"Any dizziness?" she asked.
"Less than yesterday," he replied. "Still there. But manageable."
"Headache?"
"Dull," he said. "Persistent."
"Expected."
She made a note on the tablet, then glanced up at him. "Nausea?"
"No."
"Appetite?"
He hesitated. "It came back once I started eating."
Curie nodded. "Also expected."
She stepped back slightly, folding her arms.
"You are improving," she said. "Which does not mean you are well."
He sighed. "I figured you'd say that."
She tilted her head. "You are not permitted to work today."
"I know."
"And tomorrow will depend on today," she continued. "If you push yourself, even mentally, your recovery will slow."
He looked at her. "You're asking me to do nothing."
"I am asking you to rest," Curie corrected. "There is a difference."
He studied her face, searching for any hint of flexibility.
There was none.
"Fine," he said finally. "I'll behave."
Curie raised an eyebrow. "That sounded insincere."
"It was," he admitted.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
"I will return later," she said. "Continue hydrating. Sleep if you feel tired. No visitors until this afternoon."
He frowned faintly. "Sarah and Preston—"
"Will survive," Curie replied. "So will the Republic."
She picked up her tablet and turned toward the door, then paused.
"And Sico?"
He looked at her.
"You scared them," she said quietly. "Do not do that again."
He didn't respond immediately.
Then, softly, "I'll try."
Curie nodded once and left.
The door clicked shut behind Curie, leaving the room once more wrapped in a careful, almost fragile quiet.
Sico lay still for a few moments after she left, staring at the ceiling again, letting the echo of her words settle. You scared them. It wasn't an accusation. It wasn't even said with anger. That, somehow, made it worse.
He shifted slightly, adjusting the pillow beneath his head, and exhaled.
Rest, then.
He closed his eyes again, not to sleep exactly, but to let his thoughts drift without direction. For a while, it worked. The warmth from the herbal medicine lingered, a gentle heaviness that dulled the sharp edges of his usual restlessness.
He was halfway between dozing and waking when the sound of the door opening returned.
This time, the footsteps were different.
Lighter. More than one set.
And accompanied by the unmistakable sound of papers being shuffled.
Sico cracked one eye open.
Magnolia stood just inside the doorway, immaculate as ever despite the early hour. Her dark hair was pinned back neatly, her expression composed in that way that always suggested she was thinking three steps ahead of everyone else in the room.
Beside her stood her secretary, a young woman named Elise, arms already burdened with a thick stack of folders and a clipboard balanced precariously on top. Elise looked like someone who had not slept enough but had long since made peace with that fact.
Magnolia caught sight of Sico's open eye and smiled faintly.
"Good morning, Mr. President," she said, stepping fully into the room.
Sico groaned quietly and closed his eye again.
"Oh no," he muttered. "This feels illegal."
Magnolia's smile widened just a touch. "I assure you, it's entirely sanctioned."
He opened his eye again, squinting at her. "Who let you in?"
"Sarah," Magnolia replied calmly. "Preston agreed. Curie protested, but she was outvoted on the condition that I keep this brief."
From behind her, Elise adjusted her grip on the folders. "Very brief," she echoed, though the stack in her arms suggested otherwise.
Sico glanced at the papers, then back at Magnolia.
"You look far too comfortable with this," he said.
Magnolia stepped closer to the bed, pulling a chair over and sitting down with unhurried grace. "I am not comfortable," she corrected. "I am resigned."
"That's worse."
"Yes," she agreed.
She took one of the folders from Elise and opened it, scanning the top page quickly. "You've been unconscious or under medical supervision for the better part of a day. During that time, the Republic has continued to function, but certain… administrative necessities require your signature."
Sico's head sank back into the pillow.
"I'm in a hospital bed," he said. "On doctor's orders."
Magnolia nodded. "Which is why I will be doing most of the talking, and you will be doing very little thinking."
"That doesn't sound like my job."
"It is today."
Elise stepped forward, placing the clipboard gently on the tray table, then retreated half a step, eyes flicking between Sico and Magnolia with cautious curiosity.
Magnolia flipped the folder around so Sico could see the first page.
"Emergency authorization renewals," she said. "Logistics extensions. Budget reallocations that were already approved verbally but require your formal consent."
Sico frowned faintly. "I thought you handled most of this."
"I do," Magnolia replied. "But certain signatures are non-delegable. Someone decided long ago that the President's name carries symbolic weight."
"Someone sounds like an idiot."
Magnolia's lips twitched. "They are long dead. We are stuck with their legacy."
She slid a pen into his hand.
Sico stared at it like it might bite him.
"Magnolia," he said slowly, "Curie will murder both of us."
Magnolia leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Curie is currently occupied scolding a nurse for improper charting. We have a window."
Elise winced sympathetically.
Sico sighed and adjusted himself enough to sit slightly more upright, though he didn't push it. The movement made his head throb faintly, but he ignored it.
"Fine," he said. "What am I signing?"
Magnolia didn't miss a beat. "You are signing where I tell you to sign, and you are not reading anything."
His eyes snapped to hers. "Excuse me?"
She met his gaze calmly. "You are not in a condition to review policy language. That is my responsibility."
"I don't sign things blindly."
"You do today."
"That's—"
"—what you appointed me for," Magnolia finished smoothly. "To act in your stead when necessary."
Sico studied her face, searching for any hint of uncertainty.
There was none.
He glanced at Elise, who gave him a small, apologetic shrug.
"Sarah said," Elise added quietly, "that if you argue, she'll come back and argue louder."
That did it.
Sico let out a low, defeated breath. "Fine. Where."
Magnolia tapped the page with one perfectly manicured finger. "Bottom right. Initial there."
He signed.
She flipped the page.
"Here."
He signed again.
Another page.
"And here."
He frowned faintly. "This feels like abuse of power."
Magnolia nodded. "It is. Temporarily."
They worked through the stack steadily. Magnolia spoke in a calm, measured tone, summarizing each document in a sentence or two without drowning him in detail.
"This authorizes continued grain shipments to Goodneighbor."
He paused mid-signature. "They doing alright?"
"Yes," Magnolia said. "Better than expected."
He signed.
"This one extends caravan protection contracts along the eastern routes."
"Necessary," he muttered, signing again.
"This reallocates surplus medical supplies to the southern settlements."
"Good."
Another signature.
With each page, the dull ache behind his eyes grew more noticeable. The effort of focusing, of lifting his arm repeatedly, began to weigh on him. Magnolia noticed immediately.
She paused, studying him.
"You're fading," she said quietly.
"I'm fine," he replied automatically.
She didn't argue. Instead, she slid the remaining stack closer to herself and sighed.
"This is exactly why I didn't want to be chosen for this," she muttered.
Sico glanced at her. "You were chosen?"
Magnolia shot him a look. "Do you think I volunteered to double my workload?"
Elise cleared her throat softly. "Sarah said you were the only one she trusted not to… panic."
Magnolia snorted. "I panic internally. It's much more efficient."
Sico almost smiled.
Almost.
He rubbed his temple with his free hand. "How bad is it?"
Magnolia leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "Your paperwork?"
"Yes."
She considered for a moment. "Your job generates approximately three times the paperwork mine does."
He closed his eyes. "That explains the headache."
"Mine doubled yesterday," Magnolia added. "I am now drowning in your responsibilities on top of my own."
Elise nodded vigorously. "She hasn't stopped muttering since dawn."
Magnolia shot her a look. "That is untrue."
"You said the words 'bureaucracy is a curse upon humanity' four times," Elise replied helpfully.
Magnolia waved a hand dismissively. "Context matters."
Sico opened his eyes again, studying Magnolia more closely. There were faint shadows beneath her eyes he hadn't noticed before. A tightness around her mouth that spoke of tension held in check.
"You didn't have to do this," he said quietly.
Magnolia met his gaze. "Yes, I did."
He frowned. "Because Sarah asked?"
"Because the Republic needs continuity," she replied. "And because you need to stay in this bed."
She tapped the remaining folder. "We are almost done. Two more signatures."
She slid the last page toward him.
"And remember," she added, tone dry but firm, "sign. Don't read."
He huffed softly. "I feel like I should object on principle."
"You may object after you recover," Magnolia said. "Right now, you are a liability."
"That's comforting."
"Truth often is not."
He signed the final page and let the pen fall back onto the tray.
Magnolia gathered the papers quickly, handing them back to Elise, who stacked them neatly and clutched them to her chest like precious cargo.
"There," Magnolia said, standing. "The Republic will not collapse due to missing signatures."
Sico leaned back, eyes closing briefly. "You're a menace."
She smiled faintly. "You promoted me."
She turned to leave, then paused at the door, glancing back at him.
"Get better," she said. "If you don't, I may actually have to do your job longer."
He cracked one eye open. "You'd hate that."
Magnolia's smile sharpened. "Exactly."
She and Elise left quietly, the door closing behind them.
Then the room felt smaller by the afternoon.
It wasn't that anything had changed physically. The walls were the same. The bed was the same. The faint hum of equipment and the distant murmur of voices down the corridor remained constant. But time behaved differently when there was nothing to do and nowhere to go.
Sico lay staring at the ceiling again, hands folded loosely over his stomach, eyes tracking the slow crawl of light as it shifted across the cracked white panels above him. He had slept in fragments after Magnolia left as that short, shallow intervals that never quite dipped into true rest. Each time he woke, the same restlessness greeted him, pressing against his ribs like a trapped thing.
He had obeyed Curie's instructions. He had hydrated. He had eaten when the nurse returned with lunch with something warm, bland, sensible. He had not worked. He had not asked for reports. He had not tried to sneak a radio or a terminal into his bed.
And he was bored out of his mind.
"This," he muttered to no one, "is torture."
He swung his legs slowly over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, letting his body adjust. The dizziness flared briefly, then receded. His feet touched the floor, solid and grounding, and he stayed still long enough to be sure the room wouldn't tilt again.
It didn't.
Good.
He stood, testing his balance. Still fine. Still himself, even if a little dulled around the edges.
The door stood closed, unassuming.
He stared at it for several seconds.
Curie's voice echoed faintly in his memory: You are not permitted to work today.
She hadn't said anything about walking.
He reached for his jacket as someone had folded it neatly and left it draped over the chair in the corner and slipped it on. It felt heavier than usual, as if it carried yesterday's collapse in its lining. He didn't bother with the hospital slippers, instead pulling on his boots slowly, carefully.
By the time he reached the door, his decision was already made.
He opened it.
The corridor outside was quiet, lit by the same softened afternoon light filtering through high windows. A nurse passed farther down the hall, glanced his way, hesitated, then continued on without comment.
No alarms. No shouting.
Encouraged, Sico stepped out and pulled the door closed behind him.
He made it exactly four steps before a voice cut in.
"Sir."
He stopped.
Two soldiers stood near the end of the corridor, positioned just casually enough to pretend they weren't doing exactly what they were doing. Both wore light armor, weapons slung but not raised. One was older, his hair threaded with gray, posture relaxed but alert. The other was younger, jaw tight, eyes flicking instinctively to Sico's boots, then back to his face.
The older one spoke again. "You're not cleared to leave the ward."
Sico exhaled slowly. "Let me guess. Sarah."
"Yes, sir," the younger soldier said immediately.
The older one shot him a look, then returned his attention to Sico. "Orders are to keep you in your room."
Sico folded his arms. "I'm not trying to leave the hospital."
"Still counts," the younger soldier said.
The older one sighed quietly. "We were told you might try this."
Sico raised an eyebrow. "I'm flattered."
"Sir," the older soldier said gently, "you collapsed yesterday."
"I'm aware."
"And Dr. Curie was very clear."
"I'm also aware of that," Sico replied. "She said no work. She didn't say no air."
The younger soldier shifted uncomfortably. "Orders are orders."
Sico studied them both for a moment. Not as soldiers, but as people. They weren't hostile. They weren't afraid. They were just… doing their jobs.
He nodded once. "Alright."
The younger soldier blinked, surprised. "Alright?"
"Yes," Sico said. "Let's compromise."
The older soldier tilted his head. "I'm listening."
"I take a short walk," Sico said. "Outside. Just around the hospital grounds. You stay with me the entire time."
"That's still—"
"I don't leave your sight," Sico continued, cutting in calmly. "I don't go far. I don't talk to anyone if that's a concern. If I get dizzy, if I stumble, if Curie so much as thinks about my name, you drag me back inside."
The corridor was quiet again.
The older soldier considered him carefully. "And if General Sarah finds out?"
Sico's mouth twitched. "She will."
The younger soldier frowned. "She's going to kill us."
"Probably," Sico agreed. "But less violently than Curie would if I fainted alone in my room."
The older soldier snorted despite himself, then sobered.
"You're really just asking to breathe," he said.
"Yes," Sico replied simply. "That's all."
A long pause stretched between them.
Finally, the older soldier nodded. "Five minutes."
Sico inclined his head. "Ten."
"Five," the soldier repeated.
"Eight," Sico countered.
The younger soldier looked between them, then sighed. "Six," he offered.
They both looked at him.
"…fine," Sico said. "Six."
The older soldier gestured down the hall. "We don't touch the perimeter fence. We don't go near the main road."
"Understood."
"And if you start to look even a little unsteady—"
"You put me back in bed," Sico finished. "No argument."
The soldier nodded once. "Alright, sir. Let's go."
They walked together down the corridor, the soldiers flanking him subtly, not close enough to crowd him, but close enough to catch him if he faltered. The hospital doors opened easily, letting in a rush of cooler air that carried the faint scents of grass, oil, and distant smoke.
Outside, the world felt larger.
The hospital sat on slightly elevated ground, its exterior patched and reinforced but sturdy. Beyond it stretched a small open yard with hard-packed earth, patches of stubborn grass, a few scattered benches. Further out, Sanctuary moved with its usual quiet rhythm. People walked. Talked. Lived.
The sky overhead was a soft, washed blue, clouds drifting lazily like they had nowhere urgent to be.
Sico stopped just outside the doors and drew in a deep breath.
It filled his lungs differently than indoor air ever could. Cooler. Sharper. Real.
He let it out slowly, feeling tension ease from his shoulders in a way no medicine had managed.
The younger soldier watched him carefully. "You alright, sir?"
"Yes," Sico said. "Better."
They walked slowly along the edge of the yard, boots crunching faintly against gravel. The soldiers kept pace easily, eyes scanning out of habit more than necessity.
Sico's gaze drifted outward, taking in details he usually missed with the way a pair of settlers laughed over something near the market stalls, the creak of a windmill turning lazily in the distance, the sound of someone hammering metal somewhere beyond the wall.
Life, continuing.
He stopped near one of the benches but didn't sit. Instead, he leaned back against the hospital's outer wall, letting the cool stone press against his spine.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
The older soldier glanced at him. "For what?"
"For not treating me like glass."
The soldier huffed softly. "General Sarah told us not to."
The younger soldier smiled faintly. "She said, 'He's stubborn, not fragile.'"
That earned a short, genuine laugh from Sico.
"That sounds like her."
They stood there in companionable silence for a moment.
Then Sico cleared his throat. "You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette, would you?"
The younger soldier froze. "Uh."
The older one raised an eyebrow. "Sir, I don't think—"
"Just one," Sico said, holding up a hand. "I'm not asking you to endorse the habit. I just… feel like one."
The younger soldier hesitated, then reached into a pocket with a guilty look. "I've got one."
The older soldier shot him a sharp look. "You know Curie will smell it."
"She'll smell it anyway," the younger soldier muttered, pulling out a slightly crumpled cigarette and a lighter. "She smells everything."
Sico accepted it with a nod of thanks, rolling it briefly between his fingers before bringing it to his lips.
The lighter flicked on. The flame danced briefly, then settled.
He inhaled slowly.
The smoke burned his throat a little more than he remembered, but the sensation was familiar, grounding in its own way. He exhaled, watching the thin plume curl and dissipate into the afternoon air.
"Don't tell anyone," the younger soldier said.
Sico smiled faintly. "My lips are sealed."
The older soldier shook his head. "You're going to get us all in trouble."
"Already have," Sico replied lightly.
He took another drag, slower this time, savoring the quiet. The cigarette was nothing special that harsh, probably stale but it did its job. It gave him a moment that felt like his own.
"You know," he said after a moment, gaze still fixed on the horizon, "I didn't collapse because I was tired."
The soldiers glanced at him, surprised by the sudden shift.
"I collapsed because I forgot that rest isn't optional," he continued. "You can postpone sleep. You can skip meals. You can ignore pain. But eventually, your body collects the debt."
The older soldier nodded slowly. "Seen it before."
Sico stubbed the cigarette out carefully against a stone, then dropped the butt into a small metal container near the bench.
"I won't forget again," he said quietly.
The younger soldier smiled, unconvinced but hopeful.
They stood there a little longer, letting the afternoon stretch around them.
Then the older soldier checked his watch. "Time."
Sico nodded. "Fair enough."
They turned back toward the hospital doors together. As they walked, Sico felt steadier than he had all morning.
As they turned back toward the hospital doors together, the light behind them stretched long across the yard, shadows pulling themselves thin over the ground. Sico took one last look outward before stepping inside with the sky, the windmill, the slow, stubborn persistence of life beyond reinforced walls and then the doors closed with a soft, final hiss.
The inside air felt heavier immediately.
Not unpleasant. Just… contained.
The corridor swallowed them again, the quiet broken only by the echo of their boots and the distant murmur of voices deeper in the building. Sico walked a little slower now, not from weakness, but from the way the calm had settled into his bones. The cigarette, the air, the brief rebellion as it had taken the edge off something sharp he hadn't fully noticed before.
The younger soldier glanced at him sideways. "You sure you're good, sir?"
Sico nodded. "Yeah. I am."
They reached his door without incident. No alarms. No angry footsteps charging down the hall. No Curie standing there with arms crossed and murder in her eyes.
Yet.
The older soldier stopped just short of the door. "Alright. Back in bed."
Sico smiled faintly. "As promised."
He opened the door and stepped inside, the familiar room wrapping around him like a held breath finally released. The bed sat exactly where he'd left it. The chair. The tray table. The half-drawn curtain letting afternoon light spill across the floor.
He turned back to the soldiers. "Thank you."
The older one inclined his head. "Don't make a habit of it."
The younger soldier added quietly, "If she asks, we tried to stop you."
Sico chuckled. "If she asks, I'll say I escaped anyway."
That earned a nervous laugh from the younger soldier and a tired shake of the head from the older one.
The door closed behind them.
Sico stood there for a moment longer, then sighed and shrugged off his jacket, draping it back over the chair. The movement reminded him how tired he actually was that not the restless kind, but the deep, dragging weight that came after adrenaline had burned itself out.
He sat on the edge of the bed again, slower this time, and eased himself back until his shoulders met the mattress. The ceiling greeted him once more, unchanged and unbothered by his small victory.
He smiled faintly.
"Well," he murmured, "that helped."
He didn't bother overthinking it. He pulled the blanket up, adjusted the pillow, and let his eyes close naturally this time, without forcing them.
Sleep came quickly.
Not the fractured, half-conscious drifting from earlier, but something heavier, deeper. His breathing evened out. His muscles loosened their long-held tension. For the first time since collapsing, his body stopped arguing with itself.
The room settled around him, quiet and watchful.
Time passed.
How much, he couldn't say.
He dreamed, though later he wouldn't remember much of it, just impressions. Voices blending together. A sense of motion without urgency. The faint echo of wind through open space.
Then something changed.
A shift in the air.
Footsteps.
The door opening sharply.
Sico stirred, half-awake, brow furrowing as the sound pierced through his sleep. His body protested immediately, heavy and uncooperative as he tried to surface.
And then a voice cut through everything else.
"Sico."
His eyes cracked open.
Curie stood just inside the doorway.
Her arms were folded. Her posture was rigid. Her expression that normally composed, analytical, carefully controlled was tight with something far more volatile.
"Oh," he mumbled, still foggy. "Hey."
She didn't move closer. She didn't soften.
Instead, she inhaled sharply through her nose.
"You left your room," she said flatly.
Sico blinked. "Mm. Briefly."
Her eyes narrowed. "You were not authorized."
"I know," he said, pushing himself slightly more upright. "But I—"
"Do not," Curie interrupted, voice sharp now, "finish that sentence."
He closed his mouth.
Curie stepped further into the room, the door clicking shut behind her with an ominous finality. She stopped at the foot of his bed, staring down at him like a scientist observing a specimen that had crawled off the table.
"A nurse saw you," she continued. "Leaving. With soldiers."
Sico rubbed his face with one hand. "That was fast."
"They reported it immediately," Curie said. "As they should have."
He sighed. "I didn't go far."
"That is not the point."
"I just needed some air."
"That is also not the point."
She took another step closer, and that was when her expression changed which not to anger exactly, but to something sharper, more offended on a professional level.
Her nose wrinkled.
She leaned in slightly.
Sico froze.
"…did you smoke?" she asked slowly.
He hesitated.
Just a fraction of a second.
Enough.
Curie straightened abruptly, eyes flashing. "You smoked."
"It was one cigarette," he said quickly. "Outside. Fresh air. Controlled environment."
Her hands clenched.
"One," she repeated, disbelief lacing every syllable.
"I didn't inhale that much," he added, immediately realizing that was the wrong thing to say.
Curie turned away from him, pacing once, then twice, fingers pressed to her temple.
"You collapsed," she said, voice rising now. "You lost consciousness. Your vitals were unstable. Your body is recovering from severe physical and cognitive stress and you thought smoking was a good idea?"
"I thought it would help me relax," Sico said quietly.
She spun back to face him. "Nicotine is a stimulant."
"I know."
"It increases heart rate."
"I know."
"It constricts blood vessels."
"I know," he said again, softer now.
Curie stopped pacing and stared at him.
"Then why," she demanded, "did you do it?"
Sico met her gaze steadily.
"Because I needed to feel like myself again," he said. "Just for a minute."
The room went quiet.
Curie's anger didn't vanish, but it shifted. Reframed. Her shoulders dropped just slightly, though her expression remained severe.
"That is not how recovery works," she said more quietly.
"I know," he replied. "But staying in that room all day felt like I was disappearing."
She exhaled sharply, clearly fighting the urge to lecture him into the ground.
"You are not disappearing," she said. "You are healing."
"It doesn't feel like it."
"That does not change the facts."
She moved to the side of the bed now, checking his monitors with brisk, practiced motions. Her fingers were precise, but her jaw was tight.
"Did you feel dizzy?" she asked.
"No."
"Chest pain?"
"No."
"Shortness of breath?"
"No."
She paused, then looked at him again. "Did you enjoy it?"
Sico hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
Curie closed her eyes.
For a long moment, she said nothing at all.
When she opened them again, her voice was lower. Controlled. Dangerous.
"You do not get to decide your limits right now," she said. "Your body already did that for you yesterday."
"I wasn't pushing," he said. "I was walking."
"You were disobeying medical orders."
"I didn't leave the grounds."
"You left your room."
"I had supervision."
"That is not the same thing."
She leaned closer now, pointing a finger at his chest that not touching, but close enough that he felt the emphasis.
"If you collapse again," she said, "it may not be so forgiving. And I will not have that on my conscience because you were bored."
He swallowed.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She studied him closely, searching for defiance, for sarcasm, for excuses.
There were none.
He meant it.
Curie sighed, the fight bleeding out of her posture at last.
"You are impossible," she muttered.
"That's not new," Sico said gently.
She gave him a look that should have melted steel.
"Do not test me," she warned. "I will assign someone to sit in this room with you."
He winced. "That seems excessive."
"So is collapsing," she shot back.
She turned and grabbed a small device from the tray, holding it up. "And as for the cigarette, your oxygen saturation is still stabilizing. If I smell smoke on you again, I will personally confiscate anything even resembling tobacco from this building."
"Yes, ma'am," he said obediently.
Her lips twitched despite herself.
She tapped a few notes into the device, then set it down with a decisive click.
"You will rest," she said firmly. "You will sleep. You will not leave this bed unless accompanied by medical staff."
He nodded. "Understood."
"And you will inform me," she added, "if you feel restless again."
Sico frowned faintly. "You want me to tell you when I'm bored?"
"Yes," Curie said without hesitation. "Because boredom is preferable to collapse."
He considered that, then nodded again. "Fair."
She watched him for another moment, then finally turned toward the door.
"Curie," he said softly.
She paused, hand on the handle.
"Thank you," he added.
She didn't look back, but her voice softened just a fraction.
"Do not make me scold you again," she said.
The door closed behind her.
Sico let out a long breath and sank back into the pillows, eyes drifting shut once more. His body, chastened and soothed in equal measure, welcomed the rest this time without protest.
______________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-