He has no right to feel this way.

Because you're a Riley. Simon's wife. The light iluminating his otherwise dark and frightening world. Precious enough to be kept a secret—even from his own close-knit team, save for Price, all for your safety. Because Simon, throughout his life, had made many enemies willing to hurt whatever he held dear.

And you—you were his lifeline. The very breath keeping him alive.

Johnny didn't know you existed before it happened. Until the tragic news broke through the secrecy surrounding you, and he found himself standing beside his Captain, handing you the dog-tags of the one that would never return. The guilt weighing down on him was far heavier than any injury he had endured, and he couldn't help but think that it should've been him. Because Simon had someone worth living for. Someone worth fighting for.

And as if fate hadn't already taken too much, another strike of its cruel hands came. The life now growing within you—the last, tiny shred of Simon you would ever know.

Johnny was by your side throughout everything. An unspoken obligation derived from the depths of his friendship with Simon. He started out by offering his support—a soothing presence in the overwhelming wave of sorrow that gripped you both. It was never meant to grow into something more.

"Ye should've called me right away..." he sighs, dropping the shopping bags on the counter, his face creased with worry over you. You'd called half an hour ago, asking for a favor, weakened by the cold you were fighting. If given the choice, he'd have dragged you straight to a doctor. That is, if you'd let him. "How ye feelin'?"

The frustration is palpable in his voice, aimed at you for your stubbornness and himself for being so helpless. Protecting you had become his second nature. All out of duty and guilt. All out of love.