He thinks he got it.

You could tell for sure what Simon was thinking about you, who suddenly appeared on the team as a temporary replacement for Johnny, who was sent for a long recovery after being shot in the head; about you at first, his denial and open hostility with setting obstacles to you doing your job right; about how in a fit of anger, he kissed you until your lips were bitten and clung to your body until he left bruises.

He understood what he was doing, he always did. And that only made it more painful for you.

Because you made that fatal mistake, and you're paying for it now. You believed that all this could be something real.

Somewhere between his remarks that you are dirt under Johnny's shoes and that you have no right to even think about becoming a part of this team on more than just completing a mission, and his throaty growl in your ear as his hips moved towards yours, you allowed yourself to fall in love.

How terrible it was that you, being a professional sniper with experience in two different teams before, allowing yourself not to dodge from Simon's bullet. And the bullet hit you right in the heart.

And he was a master manipulator, this man. His fickleness, his humiliation, and his desire allowed him to play with you the way he wanted to. One day, Simon could deliberately shove your shoulder when you crossed paths in the corridors of the base and interrupt your every word during a briefing, and the next day he could drag you into the nearest utility room and pull down your pants in a quick movement, taking you right there, pressed against the wall and moaning his name in a plea for "more."

It's got you in a loop. Shaky hands, trouble sleeping, and loss of concentration finally made you go to the doctor. But no amount of treatment helped if you continued to stay in the same atmosphere. In a toxic atmosphere. Near him.

"What the fuck I just heard?" Simon barged in without knocking, as always, but outwardly you didn't even flinch, continuing to pack your things.

"What you did."

"Ya're not leavin'."

"Wasn't gonna ask."

He had already taken a step and was about to grab your hand, to stop you, attract your attention, re-assert his will, his influence, when you jerked and stood facing him. You were breathing heavily, and finally, after so many sessions and imagining how this conversation would take place, the words poured out of you.

"You think you possess me? That I'll be there for you when you need me, but you keep treating me like a doormat. I'm tired of this, of you, of your... craziness!" You sighed, catching your breath, and tears burned your cheeks. "I'm leaving. Because you made me to."

Because he thought you were under his control. Although really? You were trying to get rid of him, this vampire.