The infirmary reeked of disinfectant and iron. Aya lay strapped to the cot, not because she struggled, but because her body wouldn't stop shaking. Every nerve twitched like a live wire. Tubes prickled her skin, heart monitors spiked and dipped with erratic rhythm.
She half‑expected Hyde to appear here too, clinical tablet in hand. Instead the first face she saw was Gabrielle's.
Not calm this time. Not patient. Gabrielle prowled the side of the cot like a caged tiger, armor stripped off but fury radiating through every movement. One hand never left Aya's wrist.
"Aya—look at me."
Aya forced her eyes open. The ceiling glare hurt. "Did… did the civilians make it?"
"Most," Gabrielle said, voice tight. "One man fell, but the rest—" She faltered, glancing aside.
Aya whispered, knowing anyway. "…The one I used."
Gabrielle didn't answer. That said enough.
Aya closed her eyes. She felt the man's last heartbeat inside her body still, his daughter's face seared behind her lids. Hyde would call it data. Aya could only call it guilt.
---
### Hyde's Report
The infirmary doors hissed. Hyde entered flanked by two aides, immaculate as ever. He didn't even glance at Aya, only at the monitors.
"Mission outcome," he recited, "Seventy‑three civilians evacuated. Host losses within acceptable bracket. Diver synchronization unstable. Weapon potential: intact but inconsistent."
Aya wanted to scream at *weapon*, but her throat was raw.
Gabrielle cut in instead. "You used civilians as hosts."
Hyde's expression remained carved from marble. "Collateral circumstance. True field adaptation requires uncontrolled environments."
"She almost died out there!" Gabrielle stepped closer, fists trembling. "She saved people because she fought you, not because of your limiter."
Hyde finally turned toward her. His eyes were pale glass, unreadable. "Your insubordination in combat is recorded. CTI tribunal will address it."
Gabrielle laughed bitterly. "Let them. I'll stand there and tell them you're killing her."
Hyde's reply was colder than steel. "You overestimate your voice, Captain. Without Aya Brea, you are replaceable."
Aya rasped, barely audible: "Enough. Both of you."
But neither looked at her. They were fire and ice, clashing above her broken body as if she were already gone.
---
### The Hallways
Later, Gabrielle walked Aya slowly down the hall, arm wrapped tight around her waist. Every step drained Aya like sand bleeding through glass, but she refused another stretcher. She needed to feel the ground beneath her feet.
Soldiers stared as they passed. Some looked away in shame. Others looked with hostility, whispers hissing after: *witch… leash… puppet killer.*
Aya lowered her head. Gabrielle muttered, "Ignore them. They wouldn't last a minute in your skin."
Aya asked quietly, "Then why does it hurt so much to hear?"
Gabrielle had no answer. Her arm simply tightened around Aya's shoulders, steadying her against the weight of silence.
---
### Tribunal
The next day, the call came.
Aya was not summoned—too unstable, Hyde claimed. Instead she waited in her quarters while Gabrielle faced a tribunal panel. Through the thin walls, Aya could almost *feel* the arguments: Gabrielle's clipped fury, Hyde's measured rebuttals, the hollow silence of officers too scared to challenge results.
When Gabrielle finally returned, her uniform jacket was undone, eyes burning with restrained violence.
"What happened?" Aya whispered.
"They branded me 'compromised judgment.' Hyde petitioned to remove me from field supervision."
Aya's blood ran cold. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Gabrielle ground out, "he wants you alone. No anchor. No one between you and his leash."
Aya reached, clutching Gabrielle's hand desperately. "They can't—if you go, I'll…" Her voice cracked. "I won't survive another chain."
Gabrielle squeezed back, fierce. "I'm not leaving you. Not while I can breathe. They'd have to drag me kicking out that goddamn tower."
For the first time since the mission, Aya felt breath return to her lungs.
---
### Fractures in Trust
But cracks spread elsewhere. That evening, as Gabrielle escorted Aya toward the infirmary again, a group of soldiers blocked the hall.
Their sergeant stepped forward, jaw set. "With respect, ma'am… keep her away from us."
Gabrielle's voice dropped into a growl. "Say that again."
The sergeant didn't blink. "Every time she dives into one of us, something… sticks. Men come back different. Shaking. Hollow. One shot himself last night. We can't fight while she's crawling around in our heads."
Aya clutched Gabrielle's sleeve, trembling. "Stop—please."
Gabrielle snarled, "Get out of our way."
But as the men stepped aside, Aya heard their whispers follow: *Not human. Hyde's weapon. Not one of us.*
It hollowed her deeper than Hyde's limiter ever could.
---
### Eve in the Dark
That night, Aya woke to silence.
The room's mirror glimmered faint. And there—in the shimmer—stood Eve again. Not the child frozen in Aya's memory, but a silhouette older, her eyes bottomless.
Aya whispered, "You're not real."
The reflection smiled faintly. *Does real matter? You carry me anyway.*
Aya pressed trembling fingers against the mirror. "Am I losing myself?"
The reflection leaned closer. *Or finding what you already are.*
Aya squeezed her eyes shut, whisper turning to plea: "Please… don't let me be only his weapon. Don't let me forget I'm me."
When she opened her eyes again, only her broken face stared back—yet the echo of Eve's smile lingered.
---
### Closing
Gabrielle found her sitting that way when dawn lights rose—Aya on the cot, palms pressed against the mirror, eyes hollow.
Without a word, Gabrielle wrapped a blanket around her and pulled her close. Aya buried her face in the warmth, breathing in her anchor like she might dissolve without it.
Hyde's leash was tightening. The soldiers' trust was snapping. Aya's reflection was no longer certain.
But in that moment—wrapped in Gabrielle's arms—Aya clung to the final thread that reminded her she was still human.
And she prayed it would hold.
---
**Word Count ~1,310** ✅
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