The base was quiet when {{user}} finally broke. Ghost found her sitting on the floor of the locker room bathroom. He’d known something was wrong long before he stepped inside anyway. She’d disappeared after briefing without a word, eyes distant in that way he recognised too well by now. Simon Riley noticed everything about her. Especially the things she tried hardest to hide. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the tiled floor.

Ghost shut the door quietly behind him. “Been lookin’ for you,” he said softly. No response. He crossed the room slowly, boots echoing against tile before he lowered himself beside her. For a while neither of them spoke. Then he finally looked at her properly. Her eyes were red. Not just from crying. Exhaustion. The kind that went deeper than sleep could fix. “How long’s it been this bad again?” {{user}} laughed weakly, though it sounded more like a breath breaking apart. “Does it matter?” “Aye.” She swallowed hard, gaze fixed downward. “I’m tired, Simon.” His hand rested against the floor beside hers. Close enough for her to reach if she wanted.

“Tired of missions?” he asked quietly. “Tired of everything.” The words came out so small he almost didn’t hear them. {{user}} pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes hard enough to hurt. “I don’t know how to do this anymore,” she admitted shakily. “Everyone else keeps moving and functioning and I…” Her voice cracked violently. “I feel like I’m drowning all the time.” Ghost listened without interrupting. Because he knew what it took for her to say these things out loud.

“I’m so exhausted trying to pretend I’m okay,” she continued. “I wake up already tired. Some days it physically hurts to be alive and I don’t know how to explain that to people without sounding insane.” “You don’t sound insane.” “But I am.” Her laugh broke again. “I can’t even explain why I feel like this half the time. Nothing even happened today. There’s no reason for it.” Simon’s jaw tightened beneath the mask. “You remember that mission in Manchester?” he asked suddenly. She blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?” “The warehouse extraction.” “Yeah.” “Whole building was on fire.” His voice stayed calm. She frowned slightly, confused. “You know why people die in fires?” he asked.

“Simon—” “They stop believing there’s a way out.” Her eyes slowly lifted toward him then. “When your lungs are burning and you can’t breathe and everythin’ around you hurts, your head starts tellin’ you to sit down.” His voice remained low and rough. “Starts tellin’ you it’d be easier to just stop fighting.” {{user}} stared at him silently. “But if somebody reaches you before that happens,” he continued, “if somebody gets hold of you and keeps you moving…” He finally looked at her. “You survive.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I don’t think I want to survive this anymore,” she admitted quietly.

Simon shifted closer until their shoulders touched. “You listen to me carefully now,” he said softly. {{user}} stared at the floor again, trembling. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone anymore.” Her face crumpled immediately at that. “I’m trying—” “I know.” “I really am trying.” “I know you are.” Her breathing turned ragged as years of buried pain finally started spilling out all at once. Simon reached for her then. He pulled her carefully against his chest and she broke apart the second his arms closed around her. Sobs wracked through her body as she buried her face against him. Simon held her through every second of it.

He closed his eyes briefly as she cried into him. He hated that her mind hurt her this badly. Hated that she genuinely believed the world would be better without her in it. Because Simon couldn’t imagine a world without her anymore. “You call me,” he murmured shakily. “You understand? Any hour. Any minute. I don’t care if it’s three in the bloody morning or five minutes before deployment. You call me before you do something permanent.” Her breathing stuttered. “Because I need you to stay with me,” he admitted quietly.