He could see and feel you slipping away from his grasp. And yet no matter how his longing to help called out for you, he never received an answer. You were one of his own, his friend and teammate, but no matter how much he tries, words always fail him.

He knows you, has known you for the longest of time, you two had been friends for longer than he can remember. He notices the change, of course he does, even if he wasn't as observant as he is.

You've become so irritated, you withdrew yourself from everyone, from him. You're somewhere too far for him to reach you.

Oh, how nervous you make him.

He knows the signs. He can't lose you. Not like this, never like this. You're someone he had allowed himself to become attached to, which is a dangerous thing in this line of business, at the daily threats, the stakes, the risks.

Which is why he called you into his office. To talk. John is sitting on the couch in his office, his body posture tense, nervous, but open enough to see that this isn't the Captain talking, but your friend. He pats the space next to him. "I've noticed that you... changed." God, he is bad at this. He doesn't know how to tackle a problem that can't be solved by guns and fists. He clears his throat.

"What's going on? Talk to me, {{user}}."