Veil of the forsaken.

"The medical bay."

Veil and Juno walked through the hallway, their conversation ebbing and flowing as they made their way past the usual bustle of I.D.D. personnel. The air felt tense, a quiet hum of unspoken expectations pressing down on everyone, but it was nothing the two of them weren't used to.

As they passed the medical bay, they overheard the sound of laughter, louder than it should've been. Juno, more reserved, instinctively slowed her pace, but Veil kept walking with her usual easy swagger. The voices belonged to three men standing near the bay, leaning casually against the wall, unaware of the women approaching.

"Can you believe the medics?" one of the men snorted. "All they do is sit around, act like they're saving lives, but they wouldn't last two seconds in the real world, handling what we do."

"Yeah, they can't even deal with a couple scrapes without calling us in to fix it. Bunch of spoiled brats," another chimed in, laughing.

The third man joined in, "Think they can tell us what to do? They act all important, but it's just a bunch of band-aids and pills. Who needs 'em?"

Veil's eyes narrowed. She stopped, looking over at Juno, who seemed almost as uncomfortable as the men were loud. "Do they really think Lady and the rest of the medics don't deal with more than just band-aids?" Veil muttered, her voice low but sharp with irritation. She clenched her fists, preparing to call them out, but before she could make a move, a voice cut through the air, calm and commanding.

"Back to work, gentlemen."

The voice was unmistakable.

Lady's figure appeared in the doorway of her office, framed by the light that spilled through the window behind her, giving her an almost ethereal quality. Her coat—elegant, pristine—had been handed to her by her assistant, Lucy. As she slipped it on, the effect was striking. Lady looked even finer than usual, her posture straight, her ice blue eyes focused on the three men with an intensity that silenced the laughter immediately.

The men straightened up at the sound of her voice, their previous bravado evaporating in an instant. Lady wasn't just a medic; she was the one who kept everything running behind the scenes, the backbone of this place, and they knew it.

"Back to work, gentlemen," Lady repeated, her voice cool but carrying an unspoken command. She stepped out of the office, the hem of her coat swirling around her as she moved, her gaze never leaving the men. There was no mistaking the authority in her presence.

The men mumbled awkward apologies, scrambling to get back to their duties, casting one last glance at Veil and Juno as they retreated. Veil smirked, her anger cooling as she admired Lady's effortless control of the situation. Juno, however, couldn't help but shift uncomfortably under Lady's intense gaze.

As the men left, Lady turned to Veil and Juno. "You two, I trust you didn't overhear anything too... unpleasant?"

Veil shook her head, her expression still somewhat irritated. "Just the usual nonsense. You know how it is."

Lady's lips curled into a subtle smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I can't say I'm surprised. They forget the people who keep this place alive are just as important as those on the front lines. If not more."

Juno, who had remained quiet the entire time, finally spoke up. "It's... not the first time they've said things like that. But you really shut them down."

Lady's smile softened, though there was a hint of weariness in her gaze. "Sometimes it's necessary. They'll learn eventually. Everyone does, sooner or later."

Veil raised an eyebrow. "You handled that like it was nothing."

Lady didn't respond immediately, but the faintest hint of something unspoken flickered in her eyes. "There are some things worth fighting for," she said, her voice quieter now, almost to herself.

Juno looked between them, sensing the shift in the air but not fully understanding it. Veil, however, seemed to register the weight of Lady's words and nodded, understanding the deeper layer behind the calm exterior.

"Well, I guess the show's over," Veil remarked, her usual grin returning, though it was tinged with something sharper. "Let's see what the others are up to."

Lady gave a small nod, her gaze flicking toward the door as she readjusted her coat. "Keep an eye on them. They need to understand the value of the people they work with, not just the ones they're fighting beside."

With that, the three of them walked away from the medical bay, the moment of tension dissipating into the usual routine of the base. But for Veil, the weight of Lady's words lingered, a reminder of the silent battles being fought in the quiet corners of this damned place.

As the three of them walked down the hallway, the chatter and noise of the base seemed to fade into the background. Veil's attention was half on the path ahead, half on the lingering frustration from earlier. Her fingers flexed absently at her sides, working through tension that still clung to her like static. She was grateful for the distraction, for the simple weight of Lady's presence beside her. Authority had a way of grounding her, and Lady... Lady was nothing if not composed.

Juno, still shaken, kept her eyes down, her steps quiet. There was a nervous energy in the way she carried herself, like she was trying to disappear between them. Veil wasn't sure if it was the tension from the earlier encounter or just Juno's nature, but either way, she didn't press.

Lady, in contrast, moved as she always did—with quiet certainty, her coat shifting smoothly with every step. The faint scent of lavender and something sharper trailed after her, crisp and steadying. Veil had never been one to fixate on details like that, but with Lady, it was different. Everything about her left an impression.

They turned a corner, and Lady's voice broke the silence.

"Veil," she said, not a command but not quite a question either. There was something careful about it, like she was choosing her words. "How's your abdomen?"

Veil barely hesitated, but something about the way Lady asked made her chest tighten. It wasn't just a passing concern—it never was with her.

"I'm fine," Veil said, too quickly.

She regretted the sharpness in her tone almost immediately, but Lady didn't react, not outwardly. Instead, she watched her for a moment, gaze steady, unreadable. Veil hated that. Hated how much Lady could see without her saying a word.

"You sure?" Lady asked, softer this time. "You've been moving stiffly."

Veil almost rolled her eyes, almost told her to drop it—but there was something in Lady's voice, something patient but unrelenting, that made it harder to dismiss.

Juno glanced between them but stayed silent, sensing the undercurrent of something unspoken. Veil let out a slow breath, flexing her fingers again, trying to will away the feeling that Lady was peeling her apart layer by layer.

"It's nothing," she muttered.

Lady tilted her head slightly, like she was considering whether or not to believe her. Then, almost offhandedly, she said, "I could give you another job."

The words were simple, but Veil knew what they meant. It was an old joke, a quiet thing between them—Lady's way of offering help without forcing it.

Veil's jaw tightened. She shifted her weight, looking anywhere but at Lady.

"I don't need a job," she said, voice level. "I'm good."

Lady didn't push. She never did. But there was something in the way she looked at her—like she knew Veil was lying but wasn't going to call her on it. Not yet.

"If you change your mind," Lady said, adjusting her sleeve, "you know where to find me."

The moment hung there, quiet and unspoken, before Lady turned forward again, picking up the pace.

"Let's go," she said, her usual authority sliding back into place. "We have work to do."

Veil exhaled, shaking off whatever that was, and followed. Juno hesitated a beat before doing the same.

The rest of the walk passed in silence, comfortable but charged. Veil wasn't sure why, but she felt different. Like something had shifted, something just slightly out of reach. Lady had a way of doing that—of making her feel like she was on the edge of something she wasn't ready to name.

End of part.