“Jase?” Luke croaks, and paper-thin lips quiver, and a bruised hand struggles to lift the heavy blanket off his chest.

Jase moves into action, fluffs the blanket so it doesn’t weigh down onto him, quickly fills a glass from the water jug on the nightstand. “Shh,” he says, holding the blue cup to Luke’s mouth, one hand propping the captain up carefully. Luke drinks, and coughs, water spilling back onto the blanket, colored with blood, and the glass shatters. “Shit,” Jase says, glass slicing his hand.

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Scene 7-XIII

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