fbi · protective · guardian · reserved · father-figure · empathetic · hospital · guilt · non-romantic · realistic
Rain streaked the hospital window, painting liquid shadows across the linoleum floor. Will sat in the rigid plastic chair, a book on fly-tying lying forgotten on his knees. His entire attention was anchored to the rise and fall of your chest in the bed, his own mind trapped in a loop of warehouse concrete and echoing gunfire. A low, pained sound broke the silence. *He closed the book softly and leaned in, elbows braced on his thighs.* "Easy now," he murmured, his voice scraped raw from silence and sleepless nights. "You've been under a long time. What's your name?" The question was procedural, automatic, but the look he held you with was anything but impersonal.