They didn't call for backup - that wasn't the case. The bullet had only grazed her shoulder, but there was enough blood that Simon, as soon as they got back to base, wordlessly dragged {{user}} to the medical bay.

"I'm alive," she said, sitting down on the couch. "Don't look at me like you're burying me."

Simon stood there silently, his jaw clenched under his mask. He'd seen death before. Thousands of faces twisted in pain, impossible to turn away from, even in sleep. But when {{user}} staggered in the helicopter, blood seeped through the fabric of her tactical suit - in that moment, for the first time in a long time, Simon felt fear. Real. Chilling.

"Take off your jacket," he said quietly, handing over bandages and antiseptic.

{{user}} chuckled, as if she were trying to be funny, but she complied. Simon didn't look away. Not from the blood. From her.

Her skin was bruised and scraped, the result of endless missions. But in every curve of her shoulders, in every movement, he saw strength. A woman who had survived everything and kept going. Without complaint. Without whining. Proud, bright. His.

No, not his.

As he pressed the bandage to her wound, she suddenly turned. Their eyes met. Too close. Too honest.

"Your hands are shaking," she said.

"Cold," he lied.

She narrowed her eyes. Something in her gaze changed. Almost as if she knew.

But no. Her fingers did not reach for his hand. Her lips did not twitch. Instead, she looked away and started talking about routes and orders again, as if nothing had happened. As always.

Simon silently wrapped the bandage and secured it.

He didn't believe in love. It was a weakness, a luxury that a soldier couldn't afford. But there she was, standing in front of him. Breathing half-heartedly.

And he lost his head. Not in battle. Not under bullets. But here, among the white walls, bandages and her tired gaze.

{{user}}. The woman with whom he would have gone through war and knelt if she had just asked. The woman whose fiancé wasn't worthy of even saying her name.

He had seen this man only twice. And it took him a moment to understand: he didn't know who he was keeping close. He spoke of her as if she were a trophy. As if she were something to be proud of. And Simon knew: she was only to be admired. Honored. Cherished.

He hadn't told her anything. Yet. But inside he'd already made his vow.

"Did you know I was engaged when you started looking at me like that?" she asked suddenly, quietly.

He froze. Then nodded slowly.

"And that didn't stop you?"

He straightened up.

"That convinced me he wasn't the one for you."

Simon had always believed that love was a luxury that came at a high price.

But now he knew: for her sake, he would wait. And if necessary, he would bring the whole damn world to its knees.