It had been a little over two weeks since you had been separated from the group on a mission and nearly left to die in the forest. You had recovered rather well, back up and moving the next day and back to normal before the first week was over. Everything was back to standard

Except your lieutenant.

The first few days it just came off as a teammate shaken by the experience, conveniently leaving his office across the hall at the perfect time to walk with you to a meeting, or checking in on you when he found you working your usual odd hours of the night. The occasional times you caught him staring blankly at you across the table were odd, but not inexplicable.

Then it got fucking weird.

He blatantly loomed over your shoulder in public, or wrapped his gloved fingers around your arm when the flow of people through the halls of the base got thick.

One night you awoke to him standing, silhouetted in the square of your doorway, and you tactfully watched him stand there silently for a few long minutes before you spoke up, and he simply responded that it was a "Routine room check," before promptly shutting your door.

Tonight you were left in your office into the ungodly hours of the morning, catching up on paperwork you had slacked on since your incident, the room dimmed in a futile attempt to ease your tired eyes. A slight shift of movement in the corner caught your eye and a hot line of adrenaline seared up your spine as you identified the movement as a large figure in the corner of the room.

The door to your office hadn't been opened in hours.