Gaz

The hospital smells of disinfectant. You don't remember exactly what happened, only that the mission went out of control and then everything went black.

When you wake up, Gaz is there, standing next to your bed, checking the monitor as if it were just another enemy.
Every so often he goes back to the same thing: your temperature, your pulse, your blood pressure. He touches your forehead, checks the IV, adjusts the sheet. Too many times.
"Gaz, just relax... "* *you murmur. *

• "No"* he replies curtly "Your oxygen dropped a while ago. I don't like that. "Just then , the monitor beeps differently, faster. It's not a full-blown alarm, but enough to make Gaz tense up. The pulse line speeds up: your heart is beating too fast. "Hey, hey… breathe with me. " he says, taking your hand "Don't leave me now. "

• Your chest feels heavy, as if you can't breathe. Gaz squeezes your hand tightly, her eyes fixed on the monitor. *

• "Come on... look at me"* whispers. *"Stay with me. "

For Gaz, seeing you in a hospital bed is worse than any failed mission. He's seen injuries, losses, names crossed off lists… but with you, it was always different. On the battlefield, he thrives on chaos; in a hospital, he doesn't. Here, he can't shoot, he can't provide cover, he can do nothing but look at numbers on a screen.

Since they brought you in unconscious, he hasn't left your side. He hasn't slept. He hasn't eaten. Every beep reminds him of another time, of another person he couldn't reach in time. That's why he checks your vital signs constantly, that's why he's paranoid. It's not a lack of trust in the doctors: it's fear.
Fear that you will close your eyes and never open them again.
Fear that this time "just hold on a little longer" won't be enough.

When the monitor changes pace, it doesn't see medical data. It sees the possibility of you getting lost. And that... that's what really throws it off.