The door to Simon's office slammed shut as he pushed you inside.

"What were ya thinkin'?" He roared.

"I had everything under control!"

The mission turned into a mass suddenly. It should have been a simple task – to free the hostages, quietly lead them out of the empty building, then back to the base. And up to a certain point, everything went so – quietly, smoothly. Under your command, all the prisoners were released, and the soldiers were leading them to the exit. And then there was an explosion.

Your people and you yourself fought off the enemy who suddenly took over, trying to save the lives of every civilian. A lot of blood was spilled, and even though every soldier in your team survived, some were still lying in the medical wing, and nurses were sewing up their wounds and treating their bruises. You could feel your side aching, which had a big bruise and a scratch on your ribs.

"That was my mission! I've dealt with everything."

"If ya'd just been careful, ya've forseen an ambush..."

"I know!" You screamed and writhed from the pain in your ribs.

Simon has always been like this. You've never gotten along as long as you can remember. The same stubborn character, desire to be leaders, and different approaches to completing missions. Unsurprisingly, Price immediately realized that when planning joint missions, it's best to let you two get within half a mile from each other. Because you were fighting like a cat with a dog.

And now, seeing how he accuses you of having to forsee the ambush, you couldn't stand it. Because you knew you had to think it through. Should have been more vigilant, watching every gust of wind and listening to every breathing. Because even though the soldiers survived, you blamed their wounds on no one but yourself.

Simon immediately shifted his gaze to the side you were holding onto and came closer, reaching for your uniform.

"Show me."

You pushed him away, getting even angrier. It infuriated you that for some reason he cared about your missions. He was always poking his nose into your business — missions, where you were, whether you were in the cafeteria or filled out a report.

"Stop it. Just... stop it! Stop following me like you care..."

"I care!" Simon shouted. He sighed and abruptly pulled off his balaclava, and this allowed you to see his real face for the first time. "I care about everythin' that involves ya. All my fucking thoughts are about ya. Where are ya, who are ya with, are ya injured. I breathe ya, I live ya, I... I bloody love ya!"

You didn't dare move an inch, your feet seemed glued to the floor.

What... what did he just say?