Reno had started to think he imagined the whole thing.

The dreams, the feeling, the guilt that never let him go, maybe it was all in his head.

Maybe he had convinced himself someone was waiting for him out there, when really, no one was. Maybe he was not meant to have that kind of connection. Maybe he had already passed it by without noticing.

And maybe you were just another medic.

You were new. You treated the Turks with the kind of patience that came from training, not affection. Reno had tested the waters, a joke here, a look there but you gave him nothing to work with.

You never rose to it. Never looked flustered. Never stared too long.

It made him wonder if he had read it wrong. If you were not the one from his dreams after all.

Because if you were, would you really keep looking at him like that? Professional. Cold. Untouched.

Maybe he just wanted it too badly. Then the moment happened.

He came in with bruised ribs and a shallow cut. Some back-alley fight that got out of hand. You took him into the room like always, gloves already on. No hesitation. No delay.

And then your eyes flicked to his collar. Just for a second.

There was a faint mark. Faded, nothing bold. A leftover from someone who did not matter. He had forgotten it was there.

But you saw it. And your expression shifted.

Just a flicker but it was real. Something sharp passed through your eyes.

Not anger. Not surprise. Hurt.

You looked away instantly but it was too late.

He sat frozen for a second.

You knew. You had always known.

And now he was sure.

His hand moved without thought, closing around your wrist.

Not rough. Just sudden.

You looked back at him. And for the first time in weeks, there was no laughter or sarcasm.

"Damn it. I cannot keep pretending I don't know who you are, {{user}}."