Page 74 of Undercover Hearts

"Taylor—my ex-wife—said it was why our marriage failed. She called it my 'pathological self-sufficiency.'" Michelle hadn't intended to share this detail, but the words slipped out nonetheless.

Jenna considered this. "There's strength in independence. But there's also strength in knowing when to accept help."

The simple wisdom struck Michelle with unexpected force. Before she could respond, Chief Marten appeared in the doorway, her commanding presence filling the room despite her deliberately casual stance.

"Captain," Diana greeted, professional respect evident. "You're looking better."

Michelle straightened instinctively against her pillows, hyper-aware of her hospital gown and unwashed hair. "Chief, thank you for coming."

For the next fifteen minutes, Diana outlined the operation's legal aftermath. The evidence Jenna had secured from the documentation center had proven crucial, directly connecting PWC leadership to all three victims. Isabella Garcia faced federal charges, with additional international warrants pending. Sienna Castillo had agreed to testify against her partners in exchange for sentencing consideration.

"We've identified ten additional victims in neighboring jurisdictions," Diana added. "The task force is expanding to cover the entire western seaboard."

Michelle absorbed this with professional satisfaction. The operation had achieved its purpose. Justice for Beatrice, Gabrielle, and Angelica—and now for others.

When Michelle attempted to negotiate an earlier return to desk duty, Diana firmly shut down the suggestion. "The department follows medical recommendations precisely. Especially for officers injured in the line of duty."

After the chief departed, silence settled between them. The professional update had temporarily bridged the uncertain territory they now occupied—no longer undercover partners, not quite returned to captain and detective, existing in an undefined space created by shared experience and unspoken feelings.

"Dr. Hassan mentioned you might be released tomorrow," Jenna said finally. "If your blood work continues improving."

Michelle nodded, a new tension creeping into her muscles. The structured hospital environment had provided a buffer. Departure meant decisions about what came next.

"They're insisting on home care for the first week," she said, unconsciously fidgeting with her blanket edge. "Apparently subclavian artery injuries require monitoring for complications."

The statement hung between them, an implicit question Michelle couldn't quite articulate.

Jenna met her eyes directly. "I've already arranged time off. Unless you'd prefer the department's home care service?"

Relief mingled with apprehension in Michelle's chest. "No, I— That would be..." She took a breath, forcing herself to complete the sentence properly. "I'd appreciate your help, if you're sure."

Something softened in Jenna's expression. "I'm sure."

Dr. Hassan's arrival interrupted them, the doctor reviewing test results before delivering her assessment. Nerve regeneration. Muscle rebuilding. At least six weeks before the sling could be permanently discarded. A minimum of eight weeks before consideration of limited field duty.

"The damage was significant," Dr. Hassan concluded, her approach neither sugarcoating nor catastrophizing. "Complete recovery is possible, but the timeline depends entirely on your commitment to rehabilitation."

The clinical assessment settled over Michelle like a weight. She'd built her identity around physical capability and professional competence. The thought of months of limitation, of dependence, created a cold fear she couldn't suppress.

After the doctor left, Michelle stared at the ceiling, unable to meet Jenna's gaze.

"What if I can't come back from this?" she whispered, the question emerging before she could stop it. "If my arm doesn't recover fully. If I can't return to field duty."

The words hung in the air, raw and exposing.

"Then you adapt," Jenna replied simply. "Your value isn't measured by physical capability alone."

"Easy to say," Michelle countered, a defensive edge entering her voice.

"I didn't say easy to accept," Jenna acknowledged. "But I've watched you this week. Your mind hasn't dulled. Yourleadership instincts haven't diminished. Those qualities don't disappear because of physical injury."

The observation penetrated Michelle's defenses more effectively than any platitude. Still, a doubt lingered, one Michelle had barely acknowledged to herself.

"Your support now—is it because of guilt?" she asked abruptly. "Because I stepped in front of Kendall's bullet?"

Jenna's expression shifted, surprise followed by something deeper. "Is that what you think?"

Michelle shrugged her good shoulder, unable to find the right words.