Veil of the forsaken.

"Everyone, arlos.. Everyone."

The medbay was a quiet storm of constant activity—patients coming in and out, their injuries, and their tears all intertwined with the hum of medical equipment. Lady's world was a blur of movement, her hands dancing over patients, her eyes scanning charts, and her mind relentlessly focused on saving as many lives as she could. But no matter how hard she worked, the weight of each story, each plea, began to settle deeper into her bones.

Arlos stood off to the side, his eyes never straying far from her. He watched her move from patient to patient, her demeanor calm but her exhaustion palpable in the way her shoulders hunched ever so slightly as the day wore on. He could see the strain, but he also saw the determination—her drive to help, no matter what it cost her.

"You're running on empty, Lady," he said finally, his voice softer than it had been all day. He stepped closer, his feet barely making a sound on the floor as he closed the distance between them. His dark skin gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, and his purplish-blue eyes studied her with a warmth that stood in contrast to the cold air of the medbay. "You can't keep pouring from an empty cup. I can see it, you know."

Lady didn't respond immediately. She wasn't in the mood for another lecture about her limits. Instead, she gave him a small, tired smile as she turned away, refocusing her attention on the man in front of her, his leg twisted unnaturally. "Hold him steady," she commanded to a nurse. "I need the bone set before I can even think about stitching up that wound."

Arlos' gaze never left her, though. He watched her bark orders with precision, her voice calm but authoritative. There was a kind of grace in her movements, an efficiency that made everything look easy when, in reality, it was anything but. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

"I know you like being the one who holds everything together," he said, his voice almost a whisper, yet carrying an unspoken weight. "But even the strongest threads can fray if they're pulled too much."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, a brief flicker of something soft passing in her eyes, but it was quickly masked by the cool exterior she'd perfected over the years. She gave him a curt nod, then returned to her work, her hands moving with the grace of someone who had spent countless hours perfecting her craft. "Just keep those bandages coming," she said to him, still focused on the patient.

Despite her words, Arlos remained at her side, watching with a mixture of concern and admiration. He knew she would never admit to her exhaustion, never acknowledge the toll it was taking on her, but he couldn't help but wish she would let him take some of that burden from her.

The medbay door swung open, and a soldier, pale and sweating, staggered in. "Doctor... please... they're all gone. My unit... I don't know what happened..." He collapsed against the wall, barely able to hold himself up.

Lady was already on her feet, moving toward him with purpose. She steadied him with one hand while pulling off his shirt with the other, her fingers deft as they searched for any injuries. "Shh, take it easy. Breathe. You're safe now."

The soldier's face twisted in anguish, his eyes welling with tears as he looked up at her. "Please... tell me my team's okay. Tell me you can save them."

Lady's heart broke for him, but she didn't allow the emotion to show on her face. Instead, she offered him a reassuring smile, even though she knew the truth. "We'll take care of you first. Let's get you patched up, and we'll see what we can do for your team."

Arlos stepped forward, his hand resting on the soldier's shoulder, offering him quiet comfort as Lady worked. She was a master at hiding her feelings, at maintaining that cold, collected shell, but it was in moments like this that she felt the weight of it all—the endless suffering, the stories that tore at her heart.

She turned to the nurse at her side. "Get him into the bay for full examination. I'll be right behind you. And someone needs to clean the blood near the door before it stains." Her voice was sharp, but there was a kind of rhythm to it, as if she was orchestrating a symphony of chaos, making sure each note was played just right.

The nurse nodded quickly and helped the soldier toward the examination area.

"Lady, you're going to break," Arlos said softly, taking a step closer again. "Even you have limits."

Lady paused in her movements for just a second, her eyes meeting his. He could see the fatigue in them, the sorrow that was so tightly bound and hidden behind the professionalism that was her shield. She didn't answer immediately, only resumed her work, sewing up a small wound on a child who had been separated from her family.

A few minutes later, another figure entered the room—a woman with tears in her eyes and bloodstained hands, cradling a small baby in her arms. "Doctor," she said, her voice desperate, "Please... my daughter... she—"

Lady was already walking toward her. "Bring her here," she instructed, her voice as steady as a rock in a storm. "Let me see her."

The woman rushed forward, her face twisted with grief as she handed the child over. The baby's breathing was shallow, but she was still alive. Lady laid her down gently on the examination table, giving instructions to another nurse. "Start an IV line, saline solution. 10 milligrams of adrenaline, and prepare for emergency surgery. If I can't stabilize her now, she won't make it."

The nurse moved quickly, following her orders, but the woman stood frozen, her face pale with fear. "You'll save her, won't you? Please..."

Lady didn't look up as she worked, her hands precise, focused. She had no time for words, no time to reassure. She couldn't promise something she didn't know she could deliver.

Arlos, sensing the tension, stepped in closer. He placed a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder. "She'll do everything she can," he said quietly. "But it's not just about hope. It's about trust. Trust that we'll fight for her, no matter what."

The woman nodded, her breath catching in her throat. "I trust you."

Lady's focus didn't waver. But for a moment, a small flicker of gratitude passed through her heart.

Another soldier stumbled in, clutching his stomach with one hand. His face was pale, and his uniform was soaked with blood. His eyes darted around the room, seeking someone to help him. "Doctor, please..."

She waved him toward the bed without hesitation. "Get him up here. Now."

The chaos of the medbay continued, each person with their own story of pain and loss, and each of them asking her for something she could never promise—safety, survival, salvation. But Lady kept working, kept pushing herself because, in her heart, she knew that if she didn't give her all, if she didn't fight for every life in this room, no one else would.

Her work was unending, and it wasn't about the victories. It wasn't about the ones she saved. It was about the ones she fought for, the ones she gave her all, even when there was nothing left to give.

Because, in the end, she knew that even if she couldn't save them all, she couldn't let a single one fall through the cracks.

End of part