Mira waited until she reached a quieter street before pulling out her phone.
The noise of traffic faded gradually behind her, replaced by the softer hum of residential life—distant music through an open window, the rustle of leaves against wrought-iron balconies, the faint clink of dishes somewhere above. The buildings here were older, their brick facades worn smooth by time, their shadows long and protective.
She leaned briefly against a lamppost, steadying her breath.
Only then did she unlock her phone.
Her fingers hovered for a moment over Sam's name before she pressed it, the ache in her ribs deepening with every breath. She had been ignoring it, pretending it wasn't there, pretending she could walk it off like she had done with worse things before, but this time felt different.
This time, she didn't trust herself to handle it alone.
The line rang twice before Sam answered.
"Mira?" Sam said, already alert. "What's wrong?"
Mira exhaled slowly, pressing her back against a wall as if the city itself might overhear. "I need help."
Sam didn't interrupt, and that silence was what finally made Mira speak.
"There was an accident," Mira said carefully. "A kid ran into the street. A car came too fast."
She swallowed, remembering the sound of brakes, the flash of headlights, the weight of the small body she had shoved forward.
"I got him out of the way," she continued evenly. "But I didn't come out of it clean."
The line stayed quiet for a moment, not empty, but heavy with understanding as Sam processed what she had just heard.
"You're hurt," Sam said at last, her tone shifting instantly, all humor gone.
"Yes."
"How bad?"
Mira pressed her fingers lightly against her side without realizing it, her breath catching just a little before she answered. "Bad enough that I don't want Cassian to see it."
That was what did it.
Sam inhaled sharply. "Mira—"
"I know," Mira cut in quickly. "I know exactly what you're about to say."
"Do you?"
"Yes. He'll overreact. He'll investigate. He'll want names. He'll want footage. He'll want to know why there was a car moving too fast in the first place. And if he can't find someone to blame, he'll blame himself."
Her voice remained controlled, but there was strain beneath it now.
"And I don't want that," she added.
"You don't get to decide how he feels," Sam replied.
"No," Mira said softly. "But I do get to decide when I'm ready to handle it."
The quiet stretched between them again.
"You don't not tell him things like this," Sam said, already sounding torn. "You know what he's like. If he finds out later—"
"He will be angry either way," Mira said softly. "But I don't want him angry at me for hiding it, and I don't want him angry at the world for hurting me. I don't know how to explain this yet, Sam. I don't even know how I feel about it yet. I just know I need time, and I need to be able to breathe while I figure it out.""
Sam didn't respond right away.
The silence stretched, heavy with everything unsaid.
Sam's tone softened. "Are you dizzy?"
"No."
"Short of breath?"
"Only when I move wrong."
"Sharp pain or dull?"
Mira almost laughed despite herself. "You sound like a triage nurse."
"Answer me."
"Dull. Mostly. With moments of sharp if I twist."
There was the faint sound of Sam moving on the other end—keys, maybe. Or pacing.
"This isn't a mission," Mira added quietly. "This isn't classified. This isn't dangerous in the way you're thinking. This is just… me." Her voice softened. "Asking you as a friend."
That word hung between them.
Friend.
Sam let out a slow breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "You're really good at making things complicated," she said.
Mira shifted her weight slightly, leaning against the wall as the ache in her ribs reminded her she shouldn't be standing so long.
Despite that, the corner of her mouth lifted almost against her will. "You're really good at pretending you don't care," she replied.
There was another pause, longer this time, not awkward but thoughtful, as if Sam were rearranging her priorities in real time.
"Where are you?" Sam finally asked.
"I need somewhere discreet," Mira said. "Somewhere quiet. Somewhere not connected to him. Somewhere I can treat this without questions."
Sam exhaled again, sharper this time. "You're asking me to go behind his back."
"I'm asking you to help me," Mira corrected gently.
On the other end of the line, Sam closed her eyes, already knowing she was losing this argument. "This is a terrible idea," she muttered, more to herself than to Mira.
"But you're going to help me," Mira said.
Sam let out a long, defeated sigh. "You're impossible."
"And you're kind," Mira replied.
"Don't spread that rumor," Sam said, but there was no real bite behind it.
She went quiet for another moment, long enough that Mira almost thought she was going to refuse.
Then Sam spoke again, her voice quieter, more deliberate this time. "I know a place."
Mira straightened immediately, the movement sending a dull reminder through her ribs, but she ignored it. "Where?" she asked, her focus sharpening.
"It's not a hospital," Sam explained. "It's not modern. It doesn't keep records. It's… old-fashioned. Traditional medicine. The man who runs it doesn't ask questions, and he doesn't care who you are or where you come from."
Mira let out a slow breath, relief easing some of the tightness in her chest. "That actually sounds ideal," she said. "I don't want this to turn into a whole thing. I don't want reports or doctors calling anyone, or people deciding what I should do before I've even figured it out myself."
"I'll text you the name and the address," Sam said. "And I'll let him know you're coming."
"You trust him?" Mira asked.
"Yes."
"That's enough for me," Mira said quietly.
Sam hesitated again, and this time Mira didn't rush to fill the silence. She let it sit, because she understood what Sam was struggling with.
"Mira… if Cassian finds out—"
"I know," Mira said gently. "And I'm not trying to hide this forever. I just need time to process it first. If I tell him now, it won't be about what I need—it'll be about what he thinks needs to be done. I don't want decisions made for me while I'm still trying to understand what happened."
Sam stayed quiet.
"This isn't me being reckless," Mira continued. "It's me trying to be clear-headed before things spiral. I promise I'll tell him. Just not today."
Sam exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with reluctant understanding. "Fine. But if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you."
Mira allowed herself the faintest smile. "That's fair."
"Go," she said quietly. "I'll send the details."
The line disconnected.
Mira remained where she was for a few seconds longer, phone still in her hand, breathing carefully through the ache in her ribs.
Then she pushed off the wall and started walking.