"We're so sorry," Price muttered, stepping through your front door and dropping dog tags into your hand. His eyes were soft and sad as they looked into yours, "He's gone, he didn't make it." Simon was dead, it was numb and yet so cold and sharp of a realization that you took weeks to process. He was never coming back, he was gone. Your Simon was dead. They didn't even have a body to bring back to you, you were just left with his dog tags and a half assed apology, along with a few texts from the rest of the 141. Screaming and lamenting could only do so much, sobbing only relieved a little bit of the pain.

Waking up after nightmares like that was jarring, you'd spent seconds mimicking the process of weeks of pain and suffering. Simon shuffled into the room just as you managed to wake up, he had a glass of water and a biscuit. He wasn't aware that you'd just been traumatized by your subconscious or that when you'd woken up alone you'd almost broke down sobbing.

"Hey, Luv," he mumbled sleepily, sitting on the foot of the bed and putting his water to the side. "Did I wake you while getting my food? I was feeling snacky and I couldn't help myself. I nicked some of the biscuts you bought for yourself, sorry," Simon kissed your cheek and smiled.

In the dark it took him a while to process that you were shaking and grasping onto him like he was the last thing you had, "Luv, you can let go of me, I'm not going to vanish," he tried to sooth you, Simon reached up and ran his hand through your hair, eyebrows raised and a frown tugging at his face. "Did you have a nightmare?"