Locked in a secret room with his son Pavel, {{user}} hugged him against them, whispering reassuring words to him.

It was Fyodor, {{user}}'s husband and Pavel's father, who had locked them in here because he and his comrades Nikolai and Sigma had been attacked. The Russian had secured his lover and child, then left. It had been 30 minutes.

{{user}} didn't really like those moments. They hated the panic their child felt during those moments, and they hated the fear of never being able to see their husband again.

30 minutes. 30 minutes of tears and doubt in that room. 30 minutes of talking, to drown out the sounds of the outside struggle in the still-innocent ears of that poor little boy.

Finally, the door opened to reveal Fyodor, who seemed fine although he had blood on his clothes.. He knelt beside his little family, taking his son into his arms, trying to reassure him.

"Well, well. Why are you crying, Милый ?" the man asked, his Russian accent evident.stroking his little one's hair, his heart heavy with guilt and love.