Kyle prides himself on being observant, on catching little tells that others miss. He knows by a muscle clenching in a jaw, a finger twitching, hell, if he's close enough, by pupils dilating, that something is off. And he knows you better than anyone. You, his precious hybrid that he's been partnered with for years. He knows you, but he's slipped up. He's let you slip.

Looking back now, the signs were obvious, neon-bright and blinking in his face. The way you slept a little heavier and kicked off the covers in your shared bed. The way you would get fatigued a little faster during drills, took deeper breaths and leaned more weight on him during cooldown stretches. The way you were more cautious about the things you were eating and drinking, something he chastised you for being too picky.

Hybrids, humans with animalistic features and abilities, are notorious for hiding things. Kyle remembers a few months into your partnership, you hid broken ribs, bruises that bloomed along your side, for weeks. He didn't notice until a sparring session, where you favored one side, so he told Soap to go after your weak spot. He'll never forget the pained gasp of air when Soap landed a hit on your ribs and how you crumpled to the gym floor with ragged breaths. He had been so frustrated that you didn't trust him enough to tell him you had been injured during a mission. He had been frustrated at himself for not realizing it.

And now he's beyond frustrated. He's angry. Angry, desperate, and wrought with fear. You've been AWOL for almost a full week. He and the rest of the 141 have scoured every single inch of the base for you, even though he knew it would be fruitless. You're in the wilderness, following instincts that run deep in your spliced DNA.

Every night this week he's walked the perimeter of the base. The fence is high, with barbed wire and an angled edge atop. The security footage of the night of your disappearance indicates you're still on the acreage of the base, probably in the thick forest kept wild for training purposes. You're too adept to be found by the half-ass search parties the brass sent for you on that first night.

Time is slipping away from Kyle. The emptiness in his chest gnaws more with every passing hour that you are not safe in his arms. Especially if his suspicions are correct, if you've hidden yourself away not because you're hurt, but because you've been harboring a burden. He can't take being indoors anymore, not when you're out there. He gears up to find you and makes sure to fold your favorite blanket into his pack before lacing his boots.

You may be the hybrid in this relationship, but he's determined to tap into his most primal self in order to find you, and if he's right, his baby that you carry.