The ground shook with explosions. Alarms blared, shouts echoed, and chaos reigned everywhere around you.

But you and Monty were somewhere else entirely. Behind the front lines, weaving through crumbling corridors, patching up injured survivors, and quietly moving them to safety. No one saw you—no one thanked you—but that wasn’t why you were doing it.

Monty’s hands were steady, precise, despite the chaos. He lifted a debris beam with ease, giving you just enough space to pull a trapped survivor out.

“Got them,” you whispered, exhaustion making your voice rough.

He nodded, a small grin tugging at his lips. “One at a time. We’ve got this.”

Hour after hour, you moved together through the smoke and rubble. Every glance Monty gave you, every silent nod, carried more meaning than words ever could.

At one point, he caught your hand mid-motion as you reached for a first-aid kit. “You okay?” he asked softly, eyes scanning you for any sign of fatigue.

“I’m fine,” you said, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he gave a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest—a quiet recognition that in the midst of destruction, you weren’t alone.

By the time the last of the survivors were safe, both of you were bruised, covered in dust, and utterly exhausted. You collapsed on a cracked floor, breathing heavily. Monty sat next to you, quiet for a long moment.

“You know,” he said finally, voice low and careful, “no one’s going to know what we did back there. Everyone’s going to see the ones who fought on the front lines. But… I saw you. And… I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”