The music thrums low through the barracks, laughter and half-drunken banter filling the air.

It’s not often they get a night like this; an excuse to forget, to celebrate. To remember that survival isn’t just about making it but actually living.

Some higher ups got the bright idea to bring in company as gifts; Barracks bunnies.

Alex Keller sits back against the worn out couch, beer in hand, prosthetic leg stretched out in front of him like it’s got a damn mind of its own. The thing still feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to him.

It’s been months since the explosion, surgeries, the long, painful stretch of learning how to move again, to walk without feeling like a stranger in his own damn skin.

Still, he grins like nothing ever touches him. Like losing a part of himself was just another mission gone sideways.

That’s the thing about Alex Keller; No matter how much he bleeds, he never lets anyone see it.

In between all those lights and smoke, his eyes meet a familiar figure; not that he knows well, not even a name. just one of many faces that have stayed in his mind, maybe this one, a bit too long.

He has seen you before.

Not that he's a man who pays much mind to barracks bunnies. Never cared for all that.

The first time he ever saw you wasn’t like this. He saw you passing in between hallways, leaving a room probably with a cup of coffee, eyes flicking up just briefly enough to catch his before looking away.

The music shifts, something slower thrumming like a pulse. He rolls the bottle between his fingers, watching as you weave through the crowd. You belong here, in the thick of warmth and laughter, in the small, stolen moments of joy these men cling to.

And yet, when you move closer, when your eyes flick over to him, something in your gaze lingers.

You settle into the seat beside him, close enough to be felt but not enough to intrude.

Alex huffs out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Didn’t think you were the type to waste your time on a man with half a leg.”