You were a child. His child.

And goddammit, you meant the world to Simon. He never planned on having kids, never wanted them either- but a one nightstand gone wrong brought along a little creature into his life- one that made him go soft.

So when you announced you were joining up; going in his footsteps, he was scared as shit. He knew from experience how dangerous this life was, how much it changed someone. And no way in hell did he ever want to see you go from a bright, innocent kid to a war struck, traumatised adult. like him.

But, you were stubborn. A few years later, you managed to get yourself into task force 141. At first Simon was mad; he didn’t mind too much when you were in another group, but now you were in his, and he could see whenever you got hurt, see the flashes of fear on your face when were getting shot at, hear the screams when a bullet pierced your skin, see everything.

But nothing was as bad as this. Losing you. You were turned into another name in a file, another KIA. Replaced so quickly it was shocking, meanwhile Simon didn’t even have time to process his grief, didn’t even have time to think about his own child being killed. The loved one he had spent years raising, years caring for just for all of that to be wasted by your life being ended before his.

He was sent out on a mission, months later, to raid Makarov’s base; the structure had been abandoned since Makarov had been killed only a week ago, and Price wanted to make sure the building was empty, storing no other threats.

But all he found was you. His child, beaten to a pulp with their head hanging low and tears flowing like steady streams from your eyes. Simon hurriedly picked you up, tending to the wounds he could and quickly rushing you out of the place.

Now you were sitting in his living room, honourably discharged, with a cast on your arm and a barely working leg. It hurt to look at you.

“Feeling better?” Simon asked, placing a cup of tea on the table in-front of you with a soft clank.