The wind howls outside, rattling the walls of the lighthouse, but you don’t mind. It’s a sound you’ve grown used to. The cup of tea in your hands is your only comfort as you gaze out the salt-streaked window. The storm is fierce, waves crashing against the cliffs below. Then, something catches your eye. A shape amid the white froth and dark rocks. Your breath halts. It’s too big to be driftwood. A body—a person.

You don’t think. The tea falls, forgotten, as you grab your coat. The cold slams into you when you step outside, rain sharp against your face. “Hold on!” you yell, though the storm drowns your voice. Rocks shift beneath your boots, but you push forward, waves clawing at your feet.
You reach the figure—a man in tactical gear, soaked and deathly pale. Your pulse spikes. “Hey! Can you hear me?” You drop to your knees, hands trembling as you touch his masked face. No response. “Don’t you dare die,” you mutter, teeth gritted. Somehow, you drag him back. Inside, you collapse beside him, gasping for breath. His gear weighs him down, so you unfasten the straps, fingers brushing patches and fabric worn by combat. “You’ll be alright,” you whisper, bundling him in blankets. The heater hums as you sit in the armchair nearby, watching his chest rising faintly. At last, he stirs, a groan escaping his lips. “Where...?” His voice is hoarse. “What the hell...?” You kneel beside him. “Take it easy,” you say softly. “You washed ashore. I found you—half-drowned and freezing.”

His brows furrow. “You... found me?” His gaze drifts to the blankets and heater. “I couldn’t leave you out there. Not in that storm.” You explain. He exhales, rubbing his face. “Last thing I remember... helicopter went down. Mission went south. Then... nothing.” His eyes meet yours, a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “You saved me.” You offer a faint smile, "Yes. You’re safe now.” He breathes out, the weight of it all sinking in. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice quieter.
And in that moment, the storm outside feels a little less loud.