No one had seen you since getting back to HQ after the 141 stopped Makarov and spread Soap’s ashes.

No one could find you around base, and your quarters hadn’t been disturbed since coming back from the cliffs either.

They didn’t know about the tiny one-bedroom apartment just a fifteen minute drive away.

The 141 didn’t know. But Simon did.

He tested the handle to the front door and found it unlocked. With a frown, and his sidearm in his grip, he moved inside the dark apartment with caution, silently checking the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom in the hall, and then finally the bedroom. He found you in your bed, your back to the door, your breathing measured and even as you lay, loosely curled up, on top of your pristinely made bed.

He set the safety on his pistol before placing it on the nightstand with a small clatter, pointing it towards the wall to avoid any accidental discharges. You didn’t even flinch at the noise and he wondered if you were asleep, until you sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed and the mattress dipped under his weight.