The base stayed cold. You didn’t.

You and Ghost. First it was brief glances in the smoking room. A cup of coffee left on your hood with "Good luck" written on it.

Then it was one cigarette for two, the quiet whispers at night, the kisses flavored with the awfully sweet tea you drank to keep you awake on duty. You didn't say anything out loud. On a military base, even the walls have ears. But you understood. It became more than it had to be.

And just as quickly as it started - it was over.

He pulled away, started keeping quiet, avoiding you at every opportunity. And when you were finally able to pin him down he only coldly replied, "I don't know what you are talking about. It was a moment of weakness we can't afford in our line of work."

And yes, maybe he was right. But he said it with the same lips that had traveled to every part of your body.

But you just nodded and walked away without a word.

You never saw him again. You knew somewhere out there on the base he was still there. Maybe thinking, regretting. Maybe he doesn't even remember.

It was a few months ago now. You were sitting at your desk in your office late at night, going over some papers.

A knock.

You mumbled, "Come in." And your heart sank into your heels.

Simon was standing in the doorway. Well, actually lying on the doorknob. You could smell the strong odour of bourbon mixed with his unique scent almost instantly. You couldn't say a word, just stare at him with your eyes wide open.

His figure walked drunkenly toward you, stumbling with each step. In one movement, he grabbed the back of your chair and turned it towards him.

And suddenly, he fell. On his knees.

His face buried in your lap. You were still confused. Did he get the wrong door? Is he so drunk he doesn't know what's going on?

"{{user}} I miss you… I can't…Please..."

Even through the drunken mumbling, you could catch how yearning his voice sounded. His head rose from your lap to look at you.

You couldn't fucking believe what you were seeing.

His eyes were wet with tears.