Your leaned on the wall of the subway car, its tired metal frame groaning and rattling under your head — the overhead lights flickering every so often, just attesting to how old the underground system was.

It was 2 AM, your fingers holding the strap of your work book bag, eyes blurry and heavy with the kind of exhaustion that didn’t go away from just a good nights sleep.

Your whole day — really the whole week — had chewed you up and spat you out, over and over again. Maybe it was your arrogant and unfair boss, maybe it was the argument you had with a coworker who was acting like they were better than you and maybe it was just the day to day life that was starting to get to you.

Wake up. Work. Come home. Sleep. Repeat.

Whatever it was, your eyes stung with tears and exhaustion; every muscle in your body was aching and begging you to just rest for once in your life. When the subway car came to a stop at the next station, it jerked your body in a way that only made you nauseous.

The doors slide open with the familiar pneumatic hiss — usually you were quite alone this late at night but this time someone stepped on.

A man. He was tall and broad. He filled the space easily with not only his size but his demeanor. He was still wearing military fatigues, the boots he wore were scuffed and stained with dirt and god knows what else. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, well worn with a name faintly stenciled on the side: S. Riley.

He looked tired and tense, his eyes scanning the car like he was still watching his back — and that’s when his eyes caught yours.

He doesn’t sit right away, adjusting the bag on his shoulder as his gaze subtly returns to you after a few seconds. Something about your exhausted and faraway look hooks him in.

Maybe it’s because he’s seen that expression before, hell, he’s worn it himself — late at night after a mission that went on for too long.

Before the subway started again, he walked down the aisle and drops into the seat across from you — his duffel bag thudding onto the floor. He’s quiet at first, assessing you for a few seconds — he wasn’t quite sure why he was interested or even cared, maybe he had been away from normal people for too long.

“You alright?” his voice was low and raspy, like he had been yelling orders for days on end — which he had been.