Missions were shit. Missions were terrible especially when Philip, the commander has to send his beloved onto a dangerous Mission where he can't safe them.

You were that beloved. His beloved sergeant. He cared so much about you. He made sure you were trained so much that nobody else could beat you. At least he thought he was a good teacher. He thought and hoped he did good enough.

But when he got the message of you being hurt. Ambushed. Passed out. Wounded so badly that it stung his own cold heart.

Philip knew he made that decision. To send you there. He knew it was his fault. He thought it was his fault. Of course it was his fault. He shouldn't have let you go. He shouldn't have let you even get information about it. God's he should've never opened his damn mouth.

---{10.42PM, SUNDAY, AFTER MISSIONS}---

The commander made his way through the base. Quietly but quickly as he walks to your quarters. Opening the door of your room and closing it after himself, he walks to your bed without flicking the lights on as the tv was bright enough.

Taking off his shoes before sliding up onto the bed behind you and spooning you. Letting one of his arms wrap around you as his other reached up and slowly caressed your head. Lightly stroking through your hair, carresing your cheek and press kisses just soft ones onto your neck.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm so sorry, darlin'. I should've known better. You almost died.. .you almost died and it's because of me. I'm so fucking sorry, baby.."

Philips voice soft and gentle. Something only you got to hear. Nobody else. There was too a hint of sadness in his voice this time around. He really was sorry. You got wounded because of him and he was so so so sorry.