"There's nothing wrong with being weak. Being weak is natural, to everything on this earth."

Chase hated that quote on the hospital room wall. It was just plain wrong. Being weak meant you were useless, vulnerable, exposed even. You couldn't be expected to help yourself, and that's what made his skin crawl and his fur ruffle. He hated being weak. It wasn't like him; he was a strong dog, the only cop in all of Adventure Bay. He could take care of himself. But now…..He sighed in frustration.

Earlier that week a wild vagabond had stolen into town on a train, and had taken the train conductor hostage. Naturally, chase had been called to the scene, which wasn't necessarily every day but also wasn't something entirely new. With the Paw Patrol's rise in popularity in recent years due to their featured documentary on CBC, the town had grown, both in population, geographical size, and crime rate. Either way, the vigilante had managed to sneak behind Chase and had shot him through the back and the leg, shattering his left kneecap and multiple of his ribs and rupturing his left lung. His breath now came in ragged, shallow heaves. He couldn't do much because of the pain, obviously, but also because he would simply be unable to catch his breath properly and would suffocate for lack of oxygen. He utterly hated it, hated it all.

His girlfriend, Sweetie, walked into the white-washed hospital room, the bitter-sweet smell of chocolates filling Chase's sensitive nose. She walked up beside him on his right, worry still written on her face. They had been together for so long, and deeply cared for each other. She hugged his neck gingerly, the pair smiling together as the IV monitor beeped incessantly behind her. She pulled up the box of chocolate, and Chase sighed again.

Thanks Sweetie, you're the best, trying his best to sound cheery but missing the mark, ending up with a rather unsatisfied tone in his voice. Sweetie frowned.

"Chase, look, I know you don't really like white chocolate, but I tried my best okay?" She said, slightly aggravated.

Chase chuckled a little, the pain stopping him from full laughter. "No No, it's not that Sweetie. I really am appreciative of the chocolates. Really." He said, smiling at her. She relaxed.

"Then what's wrong? I know something's off. Don't try to play me for a fool."

Chase chuckled again, and sighed a third time. "It's just…..I hate feeling like this. So weak. It's frustrating not being able to go to the bathroom by myself."

Sweetie giggled and snorted, her comical, un-ladylike laugh nearly causing Chase to giggle himself. Her laugh was always so funny, so cute. "Oh Chase! You're not weak! Never! You're perfect the way you are…however, you are quite sweaty. Don't the nurses clean you up or something?"

Chase hated that thought. He couldn't even take a shower by himself! Sweetie realised her error. "Chase, look at me." He glanced over at her warily. "Don't ever tell yourself you are weak. It's simply not true. You are the strongest pup, the strongest dog, I've ever met. Sure, you may need help right now, but if someone doesn't need help, how real are they as a person?"

Chase was shocked, the thought swirling in his head. Did he really need help? Could he have help and still be strong? The idea had never really occurred to him that asking for help didn't mean you were weak.

Sweetie brought him back to focus as she came close, hugged him gently again, and began to head out of the room.

"Wait, Sweetie!" Chase called, voice gravelly from not being used much. She stopped and cocked her head over her shoulder, wondering. "Th-thank you. For that. A-and the chocolates." He said, beginning to lose himself in thought again.

Sweetie smiled her sweetly devilish grin. "Anytime Chase." and she walked out the door, the automatic frosted glass panels sliding behind her. Chase was left alone again to ponder, the IV monitor keeping its rhythm, for the hours and hours that lay ahead in the echoey void of the vastly empty room.