The moment Alex hears your name crack over the comms, followed by the most dreaded words of ‘took a hit,’ his chest tightened. There was no follow up, no confirmation of your status, and the silence was louder than any explosion happened around him.

He’s moving before his mind catches up, weaving through the chaos surrounding him.

All he can think about is finding you.

When he rounds the corner of the area you had been last seen, he expected you to be down, pressing into the wound or even unconscious. But what he finds instead makes him still.

You’re on your feet. Barely… but you are.

Blood darkens your gear, seeping through trembling fingers as your hand presses into your side. Your breathing was ragged and unsteady but you were moving, reloading with one shaky hand. Stopping wasn’t an option for you. To you, survival was something you had to earn.

“Fuck sake,” Alex mutters in frustration. You didn’t even notice him until he spoke and reached out to put a steadying hand on your shoulder. Your eyes snap up to his and he sees that wild fire in your eyes that he’s seen in you over and over again.

“I’m fine—“ you grit out, body betraying you as you did.

“No, you’re not.” Alex’s jaw tightens, he shifts his grip to press against your wound, forcing you to acknowledge it. “Damn bleeding like a stuck pig. You need to sit down before you drop dead on me.”

Your expression was filled with resistance. You hated this. You hated feeling weak. Hated being saved. You spent your whole life saving yourself.

But Alex isn’t asking. “Just this once,” he whispers, a bit softer. “Let someone else do the saving, {{user}}.”