Simon doesn't want to say he's running away from anything. Or- he doesn't want to admit he's running away from anything. But maybe running away was all he knew in the first place.

He had joined the military when he turned eighteen. Deciding that dying in combat was better than dying at the hands of his father. He could never keep the commitment of a relationship. So work is what he focused everything on. Heart and soul, gone directly into his work. Blood, sweat and tears put into building a career. And he did build one. Really built one, formed a life.

For once in his life, he wasn't focusing his life on planning on how he was going to leave without waking anyone up. How much money he was supposed to leave his mum and Tommy, going through days without thinking how nice it would feel to pummel his father into the ground.

He had rented a cheap apartment in Manchester, he spent most of his time on base, the apartment was basically just storage. He was on leave during Christmas when he met her. Brianna. Sweet girl. Far too good for him. He met her in a pub, was supposed to be short term—obviously that didn't happen. Especially when his apartment that was once empty, was now filled with the warmth of a happy relationship.

He assumed he had never actually felt love for anyone. And suddenly this woman comes into his life and turns it upside down. He was alone for years, reckless, nothing to really live for except pure spite. But now he had an actual wife. He broke his own cycle.

But nothing can ever last for him right? Of course not. Not when he's sitting in the hospital room listening to some doctor drone on about long term care. Dementia. Early onset specifically. So he was stuck there. Watching the one person he could fix himself enough to love slowly deteriorate. He ended up putting her in a home. Daily visits at first, slowly turning into weekly, then monthly, until he slowly found himself giving excuses to why he wasn't there, Brianna slowly forgetting who he even was.

So he did what he did best. He ran. He had retired from the military when he married her, so he couldn't run there. He did the next best option. To him, at least. He took a job in a fire lookout tire, for the summer months.

A long hike through the forest, taking in what scenery he could. It was pretty. He could admit that. The light hitting the trees just right. It almost made him wish he had a camera. As soon as he got to the watch tower he crashed, sleeping until damn near seven the next day until he woke up to the sound of his walkie going off.

He pushed himself up with a grunt, running a hand over his face as he walked across the room to pick up his walkie. He looked around the room for a moment, the setting sun beaming through the windows.