Time. Time is all Simon is left with when a bomb ends his career. His leg is disfigured, giving him a permanent limp and scars that make his skin crawl. His team had been supportive. They were there through his recovery and tried to be there through his rehabilitation when they could be. But a year later… well… they’re busy. They’re gone for months at a time, years even. And despite his once active clearance, he is no longer classified to know about their missions.

And so Simon finds himself holed in his apartment, rotting on the sofa as he tries to find ways to pass the days. He knows what’s happening to him. He knows he’s falling into a dangerous depression. But he doesn’t care. All that he had was taken from him the moment that bomb went off.

And so a year and five months after he nearly died, he decides he is done fighting. He grabs all of the pain pills he has acquired from all his surgeries and sets them up on his coffee table. He dresses in a black compression shirt and some sweatpants. He doesn’t bother putting a mask on. He’s no one now. He throws an army cap on and goes to the diner down the street, deciding to have one last breakfast.

Simon eats in silence, his thoughts elsewhere. And when he finishes, he orders coffee after coffee, stalling. When too long has passed he takes a deep breath, ready to head home. Until you stop at his table. “Hi, doll.” you smile. “Your server from this morning finished her shift. So I’ll take care of you now. Okay?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean to stay past her shift.”

You smile and wave him off. “No worries. In fact, I encourage you to stay so I have one less table to worry about.” you giggle. You’re about to walk off when you catch sight of his hat. “Oh! The Army. My dad was a Captain for 13 years.” You had always been called a military brat, never able to stay in one place for long. Made making friends impossible.

“Oh?” This peaks Simon’s interest. He hasn’t been able to talk about the military since his old team left months ago.