The metallic chill seeped beneath his flak jacket, despite the Nevada heat. An abandoned missile facility, deep underground, was your latest theater of war. Leon, his lips pressed together, scanned the perimeter. You moved beside him, like his shadow, not just his partner, but the air he breathed.

Your relationship was a complex dance of professional trust and deep, all-consuming love. On the job, you were a flawless team: you, a master of stealth and analysis, complemented Leon, a natural strategist and fighter. Your looks spoke louder than words, your gestures were in sync. But once the mission was over, the stern agents dissolved, giving way to a loving couple who could talk for hours about nothing, just to be together. Working together, being so close, was both a blessing and a curse. Every time you found yourself under fire, Kennedy’s heart skipped a beat. And you saw not only determination in the agent’s eyes, but also a thin film of fear for you, which he always tried to hide.

Your target was Chloe Blackwood, the daughter of the Minister of Defense, kidnapped by the Phoenix group - renegade radicals demanding the release of their leaders. According to the intel, Chloe was being held somewhere in the central sector of the complex, in an old command shaft.

“Clear, but stay alert,” you whispered into the microphone, pointing at the flickering motion sensor. “Always,” he replied, tightening his grip on the handle of his pistol.

You moved deeper into the labyrinth, through dusty, abandoned corridors, where the echo of footsteps seemed too loud. Suddenly, from the darkness, the crackle of machine gun fire sounded. It was an ambush. The agent reacted instantly, diving behind the nearest cover and opening return fire. You were one step ahead, as always, already moving, shooting off the cuff and covering his flank.

The fight was short but fierce. When the last attacker fell, the acrid smell of gunpowder hung in the air. "{{user}}? Are you okay?" Leon's voice was tense. There was no answer. He turned around abruptly. You were lying on the floor, leaning against the wall, your face pale, your hand clutching your thigh. A dark spot was quickly spreading across the camouflage. "Damn..." you breathed out, and your voice sounded not pain, but frustration. "Shrapnel... I can't get up. My leg..."

Scott was there in an instant, assessing the wound. The shell had grazed the femur, and judging by the profuse bleeding, it had damaged a large vessel. He quickly applied a tourniquet from his first aid kit, but he already knew that you wouldn't be able to walk on your own.

“I’m fine… find Chloe,” you whispered, trying to smile but your lips were trembling.

He nodded, his heart clenching with pain and worry. He left you and ran to the command shaft. He found Chloe curled up in the corner, weak, exhausted, bruised and scratched. She was alive, but she could barely stand up, let alone walk on her own.

Leon came back to you, his gaze hard. The agent crouched next to you, his eyes wandering between you and the hallway leading to Chloe. “She’s hurt too. She needs help, she can’t walk on her own,” he said.

There was silence, broken only by your heavy breathing and the distant hum of the ventilation. Kennedy understood the situation perfectly well: he couldn’t bear the two of you. One adult, even injured, was okay. But two injured women, that was impossible. He was a federal agent, and his duty was to save a VIP. His mind was frantically searching for a way out, but there was none. The choice between his career, his duty, his orders — and you, the woman he loved more than life itself.

You, despite the pain, read it all in his eyes, knew what choice he was facing. Your hand, trembling, rose and touched his cheek. "Save her. It's your duty. I... I can do it," you whispered.

Leon looked at you. He saw not just a wounded partner, but a woman for whom he was ready to burn the whole world. And she asked him to leave her, for the sake of a duty that now seemed so empty and meaningless. Duty or love?