“Well, not this for starters,” she vague motioned to him as a whole, encompassing the nonchalant way he nearly bragged about being a target. He claimed to be the best suited for the job, justifying it as a means to protect others.

On the shore, when Elisabeth Fiorelli divulged her intentions, she just wanted him safe. That’s what she wanted now, to know he was going to be safe. It’s a naive desire but there nonetheless. Fernando Silph is as stubborn as never-melt-ice, and there’s no arguing with him on certain points. This seemed to be one of those values. It didn’t smother the wish, just tempered her desire to press the subject further.

Instead, she sighed, folding her hands over her lap before shifting just her eyes to look over at him, “I just care about what happens to you, ok?”

---

FERNANDO SILPH

She snorted through a sharp exhale, unamused by the recitation of his perceived responsibility, “I’m not an HNN reporter, you don’t have to talk like that,” of course, that’s how he always talks isn’t it? Professional, to the point, straight forward. But all from arms length and behind a cooly sculpted barrier. Eva briefly wondered if she would ever feel the warmth of companionship from him or if he’d always be so stubbornly distant.

“Hm, yeah,” his own words echo in her head, “Whatever I need, right?”

Selfishness had never been her style. She gave, she didn’t receive. She didn’t know how to ask or take what she needed.

“What about what you need?”

---

FERNANDO SILPH

“Really?” the response seemed to shock her, mostly because she couldn’t imagine people being so apathetic. He grabbed her full attention again, earning a shift back to facing him. Eva wasn’t a hard person to manipulate. She let her emotions get the best of her far too frequently. Of course, it’s those same emotions that fuel the fire of the work he values, the role she plays. It’s more powerful than anything hate or vengeance could create. Love is life, indifference is death.

“You don’t hang out with the right people then,” a default dive into a little humor punctuated by the half smile at the corner of her lips, “Well, I’m asking now. What do you need, Fernando?”

---

FERNANDO SILPH

This time, she didn’t hide the deep eye roll spurred by her bubbling frustration, “That’s what you need?” he wasn’t very good at this. Eva viewed it as an attempt at deflection, another gentle check to keep her comfortably distant. Was it really so hard for him to let someone in? “Hm, well not everyone needs 8 hours of rest,” she smoothed out the front of her white coat, letting her stubbornness shine in an innocent smile, “I should probably get back to work then.”

---

FERNANDO SILPH

The bed shifts when she stands, leaving just the warmth she sowed in her place, “I don’t think I have much of a choice right now,” coincidentally, the comms chimed to life, paging Dr. Morales to the trauma center. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, all previous playfulness and frustrations disappearing, smothered by duty, “I’ll do what I have to do,” just like he did, and would continue to do.

“I’ll be back to check on you, don’t worry,” not that he would worry about it, her company was probably welcomed but not necessary, “Take it easy, Fernando,” there was a sense of threat in her tone of voice, something that hinted she would be watching. And with a sweep of her white coat, she was gone . . .

---

. . . Only to return hours later, her hair messier than usual and a heaviness in her slacked shoulders that outlined the story of the hours that had passed since he had last seen her. Without a word she walked towards the bed, waving a gesture that encouraged him to scoot over so she could curl up next to him, “I’m taking a nap,” she softly murmured as an explanation, assuming he wouldn’t stop her from resting. It’s what he claimed he wanted, after all.

---

FERNANDO SILPH

“G’night, Fernando,” the words drifted off the whispered sigh that lulled her into a deep sleep. She fell into the throes of dreams and nightmares that kept her still, almost lifeless. It’s the deepest she’s slept in a long time. There’s something about the warmth of a lingering, familiar presence that made the short nap that much more productive and restful.

Even before she stirred, her eyes flicked open, blinking away the darkness while recognition filled in the gaps of her sleepy memory. Despite crawling in here half asleep already, she remembered where she was. It was the only place that made sense to her once she finished rounds. The physical and emotional tax of the days and nights that followed the little war made loneliness that more suffocating. Eventually, she would have to face it, but by then this too would fade into a distant memory, paving the way for more trauma to later go ignored.

“All the other beds were taken,” she offered as an explanation, her muffled voice popped out from against his side when she shifted to twist onto her back. Most of the beds were, not all of them, but it was as good an excuse as any. She stared up at the ceiling while her body reset, ready to do it all over again.

---

FERNANDO SILPH

“Hmm, right,” she hums in acknowledgment of the familiar promise. Her head tilted to see what he was doing: Studying a report, as usual. It didn’t surprise her in the least bit. His body may be a little broken but his mind stayed sharp. He’d use any piece of him left functional, a sentiment she could relate to.

She groaned softly to dispel the aches of her own injuries that flared when she sat up. They were present, but nothing near enough to keep her in a hospital bed, “I’ll come visit you again then,” she stated, rubbing the back of her neck before her arms unfurled into a wide stretch, “It’s a nice break,” he wouldn’t be here much longer, but while he was this room offered a haven of peace amongst the chaos. It’s something she needed to keep her centered and rested.

---

FERNANDO SILPH