Cas jerks awake again at the knock.

His body reacts before his mind catches up—every muscle tightening, breath catching sharply in his throat. The motion sends a ripple of pain through his low belly and down into his swollen testicles. He gasps softly.

Gillie tightens her hold immediately.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs.

The door opens slowly, and a small, soft-spoken woman steps inside pushing a portable ultrasound machine.

“Hi,” she says gently. “My name is Nora. Petra asked me to come up and do your ultrasound.”

Her voice is calm. Warm.

She gives a sympathetic smile. “Petra told me you’ve been moved around quite a bit today. We thought it might be easier if I came to you.”

Cas blinks at her, still disoriented. His head is throbbing again, his body sore everywhere. He looks instinctively to Gillie for confirmation.

Gillie rubs his sternum in slow circles.

“It’s okay, baby,” she says softly.

Then to Nora: “Thank you. He’s had a long day. This helps.”

Nora nods. “Of course.”

She steps closer but not abruptly. “Is it alright if we begin, Caspar?”

He swallows. His throat feels dry. His body trembles faintly under the blanket.

The thought of being exposed again—of more hands, more pressure—makes his stomach twist uneasily.

But he nods.

“Okay,” he whispers.

Nora moves gently. She lowers the blanket slowly, giving him time to adjust. She unfastens his diaper carefully.

Her face softens when she sees the swelling.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she murmurs quietly. “That looks very painful. I promise I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

The compassion almost makes him cry on its own.

He whimpers softly as she guides his legs apart just enough for access.

Gillie braces him immediately, so he doesn’t wobble or tense his abdomen.

“Hey,” she whispers, brushing his curls back. “Just breathe. You’re okay.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his chest tight with apprehension.

Then he feels the gel.

Warm.

Slippery.

It coats his swollen testicles.

The first touch of the probe sends a sharp, radiating pain through him.

He gasps.

His back arches faintly before Gillie steadies him.

The pressure feels magnified—his testicles are already swollen and tender. Even gentle contact feels like bruising pressed too hard.

Tears spill freely down his temples.

He pants softly, trying to hold still like he knows he must.

Nora’s voice stays low and apologetic.

“I know. I’m sorry. Almost done with this side.”

She moves the probe carefully over the left testicle.

The pain there is worst.

Deeper.

It shoots into his low abdomen and radiates into his back.

Soft, broken sounds escape him.

His fingers dig weakly in Gillie’s hand.

“It hurts,” he breathes.

“I know,” Gillie whispers, pressing her forehead gently to his hair. “Just breathe with me.”

The probe moves to the right side.

Still painful.

Less sharp—but still awful.

Then Nora glides the probe up over his lower abdomen to visualize the bladder.

The pressure there sends another wave of soreness through his pelvis.

Finally, she moves to his perineum.

The contact there is unexpectedly sharp.

He cries out softly, unable to stop it.

The ache spreads through his rectum and into his swollen groin.

Everything feels connected.

Everything feels inflamed.

He feels nauseous suddenly.

The room tilts.

Gillie sees the change in his color immediately.

His skin has gone pale.

“Bag,” she says quickly, reaching for the emesis bag on the bedside cart.

She holds it in place just in time.

Cas’s stomach lurches violently.

Hot bile burns up his throat.

He retches into the bag, shaking.

Nora steps back respectfully, giving him space.

Gillie supports his upper body so he doesn’t strain his abdomen further.

He gags again.

Again.

Until there’s nothing left but bitter dryness.

His head pounds harder now.

His entire body feels weak and shaky.

When the retching finally subsides, Nora steps forward again gently.

“I’m just going to wipe the gel off. I’m so sorry.”

Even the feather-light wiping sends horrible sparks of pain through his swollen testicles and lower belly.

He whimpers softly, unable to stop the tears.

He feels completely undone.

Nora refastens his diaper carefully and pulls the blanket back up over his hips.

“You did really well,” she says softly.

He doesn’t feel like he did.

He feels like he barely survived it.

She wheels the machine out quietly.

The door closes.

Cas gags weakly again.

Gillie keeps the bag ready.

He vomits once more—thin, empty heaves that leave him shaking.

His head throbs.

His abdomen aches.

His lower back burns.

His testicles throb heavily between his legs.

His rectum feels sore from earlier procedures.

He is overwhelmed by the sheer number of sensations.

Too much.

Too many places hurting at once.

He pants softly against Gillie’s chest, sweat cooling on his skin.

Gillie rubs his sternum slowly, grounding him.

“That’s it,” she whispers. “Just breathe, honey.”

He trembles.

Eventually the nausea eases slightly.

Gillie wipes his face with a cool damp cloth.

The chill feels soothing against his flushed skin.

“You’re okay, baby,” she murmurs. “I’m here.”

He whimpers faintly and burrows weakly into her.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispers, voice small and cracked.

Her arms tighten gently around him, careful of his abdomen and hips.

“I am not going anywhere,” she says firmly but softly. “I’ve got you.”

He nods faintly against her chest.

His body still aches everywhere.

But he lets himself sink into her warmth.