It seemed to be a good idea — retiring from the task force.

And it was. In hindsight.

He was home, indefinitely. An active presence in your daughter's life, and a damn good father. In arms length to you for the rest of time.

Most importantly, he wasn’t risking his life anymore.

Yet it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, like most things in his life.

Over time — a mere month and a half of R&R, he grew restless; itching for a rifle or blade to grip in his rough hands once again, awaiting orders from a higher-up that would never arrive. So he sought out a job, a willing manager who’d hire him after all his years in the military.

However, it turned out near impossible with his resume. A high school dropout, a butcher’s apprentice for a man that couldn’t care less about his growth, and a conditioned soldier who served for over a decade.

Simon let his shoulders drop with a drawn out groan, head in his hands, scarred knuckles flexing. The amount of positions he’d been refused for was a jab at his ego.

“Shouldn’t be this bloody hard,” He grunted, an everlasting frown hidden behind his palms. His nostrils flared with a sigh, disappointed in himself. “Can’t even get one lousy interview..”