It was supposed to be a routine raid.

You and Tim had worked dozens of these together — in sync, efficient, unstoppable. Partners for ages. But this one spiralled fast. The intel was off. The house was bigger, dirtier. A full-blown drug operation hidden behind crumbling walls and peeling paint. Gunfire broke out, bodies scattered, and then—

Flames.
Someone had set the place alight from the back.

The team poured out, coughing, bruised, yelling for medics. Nolan was dragging out one of the suspects. Angela was already radioing in fire support.

Tim was scanning the crowd, chest heaving, eyes darting.

Then he realized.
You weren’t there.

“Where is she?” he snapped to someone — anyone — but no one had seen you. No one had noticed you didn’t make it out.

And then he heard it.
A scream. Faint. Choked. From inside.

He didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Just ran.

The heat was unbearable. Smoke thick, curling around him like claws. He pushed through the kitchen, through a collapsing hallway, calling your name like a prayer.

Then — a sound from the closet.
A weak thud. A soft groan.

You weren't safe. And for him, that was everything.