Simon can't say exactly when the end began. Soap's death, the bullet wound to his chest that left him confined to a hospital bed for months, the progression of PTSD, all of this led inevitably to his forced retirement. He knew nothing in his life but to be a soldier, and now it seemed to have lost all meaning.

"This isn't over," your soft voice booms behind him as he stands at the window of his tiny living room with a glass of cheap bourbon in his hand.

You've been his friend and teammate for years, taking care of him even when he acted like a complete asshole, more than he ever deserved. He knew you loved him, and to be honest, he loved you too, but his pride and stubbornness would never let him admit it, even to himself.

"There are other things that can give your life meaning," you continued, taking a step toward him.

Simon turns sharply, giving you a cold, emotionless stare.

"Like what? Like you?" he asks, each word splitting the air mercilessly.

"And this is the part where you apologize," you respond, your voice quiet but firm, not giving away the pain in your heart.

"No," Simon objects. "This is the part where you walk away.

Two years later.

Simon once again adjusts his sloppily tied tie as if it were a noose around his neck. He doesn't share the joyous mood of the others gathered in the church, despite the significance of the occasion - the wedding. You are marrying another man, and he has no one to blame but himself - he pushed you away two years ago, making you believe he didn't need you. God, it was a lie, and only now did he realize how screwed up he'd been. He still loves you.

Sitting next to his former colleagues in Task Force 141, Simon watches you, beautiful and radiant with happiness, walk down the aisle to a man who, unlike him, appreciates you. He brushes away an unsolicited tear. It's too late for him to realize that the only meaning in his life is you. It always has been and it always will be.