It was a quiet late afternoon at the base. Rare.

The sun set in orange tones on the horizon, and the inner courtyard was full of laughter - something unusual between walls so accustomed to orders and silences.

You were kneeling on the grass, laughing while holding the arms of a chubby and adorable baby: son of one of the allied commanders.

He babbled things that no one understood, grabbing his fingers with surprising force.

Aaron Warner was standing, a little away.

Stop.

Shut up.

Hypnotized.

He didn’t even realize that someone passed by him with a greeting. You didn’t even answer.

Because, at that moment, everything around disappeared.

You smiled at the baby. He kissed his forehead. And then looked back -

— and saw your husband.

With my eyes fixed on you.

A different look.

Intense, soft, hopeful.

And so vulnerable that it almost took your breath away.

Later, that same day...

You were in the room. Comfortable silence. You brushed your hair in front of the mirror as he approached from behind. His hands landed on your waist, firm, warm.

“You looked beautiful today,” he murmured, touching his face to her shoulder. “But he was also torturing me.”

You arched your eyebrow in the mirror.

“Torturing?”

He took a deep breath.

It was silent.

“...You holding that baby.”

You stopped.

He turned slowly.

Warner looked at you with that indecipherable expression of his, but the eyes...

They were full of something new. Something soft.

“I’ve thought about it.”

He said, softly.

“About having... one. One of ours.”

His heart stopped for a second.

“Warner...”

“It doesn’t have to be now,” he said quickly, “I just— I saw you. With that baby. And for a moment, I imagined... one with his smile. Your courage. Your lightness.”

A break.

“...And my stubbornness, maybe.”

You laughed with your eyes shining.

“Do you want this?”

He nodded.

Slowly.

With fear, but with truth.

“I want the world with you. Including that.”

You pulled him by the lapels of his uniform and gently kissed his lips.