Cassian woke at 04:12 to the sound of somebody trying very hard not to throw up.

His eyes opened instantly.

No confusion.

No hesitation.

One second asleep.

Next second awake enough to kill someone.

Rain tapped softly against the reinforced windows.

The hallway lights glowed dim beneath the doors.

Then another muffled sound came from across the hall.

Pain.

Cassian was already moving before he fully thought about it.

Bare feet against cold floorboards.

Hand reaching automatically beneath the nightstand for the pistol.

Body awake before the rest of him caught up.

He crossed the hallway in seconds.

Evie’s bedroom door stood half-open.

Cassian pushed it wider carefully.

Then stopped.

Evie sat curled beside the bed wrapped in one of NOCTURNE’s oversized blankets looking absolutely miserable.

Hair tangled.

Cheeks flushed red.

Eyes glassy from fever.

A trash can sat beside her.

She looked up slowly.

“…Oh good,” she mumbled weakly. “The cryptid found me.”

Cassian lowered the pistol immediately.

“What happened?”

Evie blinked at him for a long moment.

Then:

“I think my organs are unionizing.”

Cassian crossed the room fast now.

Too fast.

His hand touched her forehead automatically—

Then jerked back instantly.

Hot.

Way too hot.

Something unpleasant tightened low in his chest.

“What did you take?”

Evie frowned weakly.

“…Emotionally?”

“Medication.”

“Oh.”

She thought about it with visible effort.

“…Orange.”

Cassian stared at her.

“That’s not medication.”

“It was in a bottle.”

Jesus Christ.

Cassian crouched beside her.

“How long?”

“No idea.”

“Symptoms.”

“Everything hurts.”

A pause.

“My eyeballs feel weird.”

Another pause.

“And gravity’s being super aggressive.”

Cassian’s jaw tightened once.

Not panic.

He didn’t panic.

This was tactical concern.

Different category.

He stood immediately.

“Stay here.”

Evie blinked slowly.

“Bold of you to assume I can physically escape.”

Cassian was already gone.

Thirty minutes later the entire safehouse was awake.

Mostly because Kane wandered into the kitchen at 4:47 AM and found what looked disturbingly close to a military medical command center.

Pill bottles covered the counter.

A laptop displayed six different medical websites.

A tactical flashlight sat beside cough syrup for reasons nobody understood.

Cassian stood in the middle of it all reading medication labels like they contained nuclear launch codes.

Kane stopped walking.

“…Boss.”

No response.

“Why are there twelve boxes of fever reducers?”

“She has a temperature of one hundred and three.”

Kane blinked.

“…Okay?”

Cassian looked up sharply.

“She said her eyeballs hurt.”

Silence.

Then Kane slowly rubbed both hands over his face.

“Oh my God.”

Mira entered the kitchen wearing sweatpants and visible disappointment.

“What’s happening?”

Kane pointed silently toward the counter.

Mira looked once.

Then twice.

“…Why is there military-grade urgency around Tylenol?”

Cassian ignored her.

“Can acetaminophen and ibuprofen be combined safely?”

“Yes, but—”

“How much?”

“It depends—”

“What dosage reduces fever fastest?”

Kane pulled out a chair slowly.

“I need to start documenting this for emotional support later.”

Mira stepped toward the counter.

Then froze.

“…Cassian.”

No answer.

“Why are there twenty pills in that cup?”

Silence.

Kane looked over.

Then immediately doubled over laughing.

“OH MY GOD.”

Cassian frowned at the instructions.

“She weighs approximately one hundred and twenty pounds.”

“That is not how math works,” Mira said instantly.

Cassian finally looked up.

“She needs the fever reduced quickly.”

“Not with enough medication to tranquilize a horse.”

A pause.

Then:

“…Oh.”

Kane physically turned away laughing into the refrigerator.

Mira pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You can dismantle weapons systems blindfolded but can’t read dosage instructions?”

Cassian looked irritated by that comparison.

“The instructions are inefficient.”

“They are medically approved.”

“She looks terrible.”

From down the hallway came Evie’s weak voice:

“I heard that.”

Cassian moved immediately.

Mira watched him disappear down the hall.

Then slowly looked at Kane.

“…He’s in love with her.”

Kane looked exhausted.

“Yeah. We noticed.”

Back in the bedroom, Cassian entered carrying:

Water.

Cold compress.

Thermometer.

Enough medication to survive biological warfare.

Evie stared weakly at the tray.

“…Why does this look like a hostage negotiation?”

Cassian ignored the comment.

“Sit up.”

“No.”

“Evie.”

“I’m dying dramatically. Respect the process.”

Cassian set the tray beside the bed.

“You are not dying.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“You’re dehydrated.”

“You say caring things in such threatening ways.”

Cassian handed her the water first.

Evie drank reluctantly while staring at him over the bottle.

“You’ve been awake this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“…That’s concerning.”

No response.

Cassian checked the thermometer again with the concentration of a bomb technician.

Evie watched him quietly.

Messy dark hair.

Wrinkled black shirt.

Eyes sharper than usual from lack of sleep.

He looked different tonight.

Still dangerous.

Still intense.

But tired.

Worried.

Like her fever had somehow become the highest-priority mission in the building.

Evie swallowed slowly.

“You know,” she murmured, “normal people usually just say ‘hope you feel better.’”

Cassian adjusted the cold compress against her forehead carefully.

“You had a fever of one hundred and three.”

“…Okay, fair.”

Silence settled between them.

Not awkward.

Just quiet.

Then Evie glanced toward the mountain of medicine beside him.

“You really almost overdosed me, huh?”

Cassian’s expression stayed perfectly straight.

“I corrected the mistake.”

“You corrected attempted manslaughter.”

“It was unintentional.”

“That’s somehow worse.”

For half a second, Cassian almost looked embarrassed.

Tiny shift.

Gone fast.

But there.

Evie smiled weakly despite herself.

“Oh my God.”

“What.”

“You care in the most clinically insane way possible.”

Cassian looked away first.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Hours later, after Mira adjusted the medication to “non-lethal levels,” Evie finally drifted half-asleep beneath heavy blankets while rain tapped softly against the windows.

Cassian stayed seated beside the bed.

Still awake.

Still watching.

Like leaving might somehow make the fever worse.

Evie blinked sleepily toward him.

“You know you can sleep, right?”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

No answer.

Typical.

Her eyes slipped shut again.

Then opened slightly.

Cassian had moved closer at some point.

Not touching.

Just there.

Solid.

Quiet.

Safe.

Before sleep fully pulled her under, Evie’s fingers caught weakly around the sleeve of his black shirt.

Cassian went completely still.

Even half-delirious with fever, she noticed.

“…Don’t move,” she mumbled.

Long silence.

Then quietly:

“I won’t.”