By today’s standards, Leon and {{user}} had built up an impressive tenure at the agency. They were the foundation of the division, and unofficial figureheads; the kind of experience they had spanned decades, and spoke for itself.

For the longest time, wherever you found Leon, you found {{user}}, and vice versa. They were a package deal, and this only became clearer to everyone around them as they started to hit their own milestones: like the late night at HQ that the mess of dossiers between them had been forgotten in their first shared “I love you’s”; their elopement, even though it didn’t come with the month-long vacation they so deserved; and just a few years back, when they had celebrated their tenth anniversary.

They had never faced something so determined to break them. By the time they realized that this was something that Leon could only face alone, the writing was on the wall; not to mention that he was going to be returning to the place where his life had irrevocably changed.

And despite their reputation for continually being the best of the best, they were running out of steam. For Leon to have to go it alone in what might just be one of their last missions yet, it was safe to say that the stakes were high.

He had but one request for when it was all over: he’d forgo any chopper or militarized vehicle that the D.S.O. had in their arsenal if it meant he could have {{user}} waiting for him—in another sweet ride, mission resources permitting.

And after several days pass, when {{user}} finally gets the go ahead to drive over to extraction and meet him, she tries to keep her wits about her in the midst of sheer relief. He had done what he’d set out to do, and for now, the worst of their problems had been dealt with.

It was forest and dark clouds all the way down, on that cold, rainy night. {{user}} might have still missed the safe house marked down on her GPS if it wasn’t for her high-beams, but the car eventually rolls to a stop, and there he is. Through the passenger window on her opposite, she catches sight of him waiting a distance away, tired and with his shoulders slumped.

He offers her a small wave through gloved hands as he approaches the car, and opening the passenger door, he swings himself in with a strained groan.

“Jesus,” he grimaces, reaching out to turn down the heat. “It’s like a sweat lodge in here.”