‘Stef!’
She opened her eyes, and all she could see was darkness.
‘Stef!’
‘…what the hell happened?’

She felt him pat her down. ‘Are you all right?’
‘General ouchies,’ she replied. ‘What happened?’
She felt him moving around, and suddenly the darkness disappeared, the light of the office flooding into what had been their hiding spot – a hidey hole made by an upturned couch. The office was a mess – most of the panes of his window-wall had been blown out, his desk was lodged in the far wall, the perfunctory pot plant had been displaced and had most certainly seen better days.
She looked down at herself, her suit was dirtier than she remembered it, and she was pretty sure she hadn’t been sitting on his desk with a large shard of glass in her hand.
‘We’re black,’ he said in a flat voice.
‘What?’
‘We’ve been breached.’
‘The fuck? That can happen?’
‘I wouldn’t be saying it otherwise.’
She shook the fogginess from her head and turned to look at him. ‘Ryan-’
‘I’m going to see what I can do from here,’ he said as he stood, and she finally saw the extent of his injuries – the flying glass had been far less kind to him than it had to her, blood dripped freely from several of the impaling points, and a large piece in his leg was stopping from standing straight. Her breath caught in her throat.
‘You-’
He turned to her, a severely pained version of his serious!fase telling her not to make light of the situation. ‘Go check on the recruits.’
‘Damn the recruits,’ she said, ‘you’re hurt.’
‘We’ll be worse than that unless we can-’ He grunted and let himself fall onto the couch. ‘Stef, go.’
‘You need a band-aid.’
He managed a weak smile. ‘Fine, well, go get me one from the Parkers.’
She sat on the couch beside him, fumbled with her pockets, tossing out various bouncy balls, flash drives, handfuls of cookies crumbs, and small pieces of evidence until she finally held a single band-aid aloft. ‘I’ve got one.’
‘You’re wasting-’
She tore open the band-aid and planted the plaster on the smallest cut on his cheek. ‘Don’t you know anything about the healing power of band-aids? Seriously, all you need is a band-aid and a little bit of love, and you can heal anything from a papercut to a skinned knee.’ She pressed down on the band-aid. ‘And I drew a smiley face on this, so you know it was made with love.’
‘Stop-’ He began, then spasmed, grinding his fists into the leather of the couch. ‘I-’
The glass shards flew out of his body and smashed on the floor, the blood stopped flowing, the scorched areas returned to a healthy texture of not-burnt skin and all of the small cuts sealed themselves. With a grunt, he collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily.
‘See?’ she said with a smile as she peeled it away. ‘All you needed was a band-aid.’
He slowly sat up. ‘I’ve never known band-aids to have that much healing power.’
She poked out her tongue. ‘Most don’t have a little bit of mirror glued to them.’
‘You shouldn’t-’
‘Oh come on, you can’t get mad at me for this.’
‘I can too.’
She shook a finger at him. ‘Just don’t move too quickly, you don’t want anything to tear open again.’ She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. ‘Come on.’
‘Where are we going?’
She grinned. ‘I’m a paranoid, would you trust me already?’
Reminder: This is non-canon, just a bit of fun.