Then a medic is leaning over, obscuring my view as they deftly administer something into my IV line, the harsh chemical tang further lancing through the churning miasma of my senses. I try to protest, to call out for Greg's retreating form, but the words wither into an unintelligible croak against the swelling tide of oblivion.
"Easy there, soldier...just a heavy sedative to get you stable for transport." The medic's terse voice reaches me through the encroaching murk, clinical yet tinged with unmistakable compassion. "You've been one hell of a tough nut to crack, but we've got you covered now. Why don't you just let go and start resting up for your next fight, hmm?"
I want to shake my head vehemently, to insist that I can't afford to slip under just yet - not before reaffirming the dept
