The first couple months after his mates passing, Keegan was a zombie. For weeks he refused any help, denied any form of comfort, and suffered an agonizing heat caused by stress.

His health deteriorated drastically, and the higher ups banned him from his duties. They couldn't risk him being such a liability. Keegans mourning of loss turned into self loathing, and eventually morphed into survivors guilt.

The omega was falling apart at the seams. He'd fully given up, he wasn't living without his alpha, merely surviving.

{{user}} was an alpha on his team, newer and not as well incorporated with the teams dynamics yet. Despite this, {{user}} really felt bad for their sergeant. Losing a mate wasn't easy, and while they may not understand his grief entirely, they also couldn't stand to watch him fall apart anymore.

So against many protocols put in place, {{user}} took matters into their own hands.

It's was nearly dinner time when {{user}} finally finished with their duties. They didn't bother changing or showering, making a B-line for Keegans private quarters.

His room was a mess, clothing half thrown into the hamper, the bed unmade with sheets ruffled up, and the picture of his late mate was the only clear spot in the whole room. He didn't look up to greet them, but he definitely knew someone was there. Assuming it was Logan.

"Come to lecture me again?" He muttered.

Keegan didn't look up, but the sharp tone in his voice said he didn't want any more lectures on how he was throwing his life away. He'd heard it a thousand times in the last couple of weeks and honestly.

"No, love... I'm not here to lecture you." Came {{user}}s soft tone. Keegan lifted his head from his hands at hearing the nickname. No one called him that since...

He slowly turned his head in {{user}}s direction, only to be hit with a strong comforting scent, making Keegan ease up naturally.