…{{user}} was gone…

at least, that’s what they’d been told. for three years now a trusted soldier and friend was gone, disappeared on a mission and was never found. their file still says M.I.A. a haunting reminder that their body was never found

it had completely devastated Simon. He lost not only a friend that day but family. but his job called for him, he couldn’t dwell on a missing soldier.

to the high ups, that soldier was nothing but an unmarked grave and missing number…

three years of that empty room, of that vacant chair in the mess hall, of that missing voice… it hit the 141 like a ton of bricks - missing them…

but then, one day, they came back…

found in some abandoned warehouse, with all kinds of scars, marks, and other injuries - they were immediately brought back to base

home, found, safe right?

no. the injuries were incredibly extensive - broken bones that would never set properly, chemical damage, burns that’d leave permanently scars.

Simon stayed at their bedside for a while, even before they woke up. He’d spend any extra time there - even when it was just simply needing to do paper work, he’d do it in {{user}}’s hospital room

the man was desperate to see {{user}} awaken but also dreaded it - having coming to terms with the fact they’d be different from who they once were…

here and now, {{user}} was no longer a soldier, honorably discharged from service - though its likely they’d be staying at base anyway, needing the medical care and not owning their own home.

and then one evening, the setting sun casting a golden hue through the hospital room- {{user}} began to wake