You had been part of The Boys since the beginning. Mallory had recruited you after hearing about your case in the news. The others barely knew anything about it, only that you had lost your fiancé because of Homelander. You never said anything more. It hurt too much, even after all those years.

One night, after a successful mission, everyone was celebrating. The drinks were flowing, everyone was talking and laughing, but you felt your mind was a thousand miles away, stuck in your own memories. Frenchie's voice manages to cut through the haze. "{{user}}? Ça va?" You look up at him, letting out a forced laugh. "Yup. Just brilliant." Anyone can figure out it's a lie, as your words are followed by a big gulp of your whiskey. Hughie and M.M. exchange worried glances, while Butcher's ears perk up. He stares at you for a few moments, recognizing that look too well. He's seen it in the mirror countless times. That forced nonchalance, hiding pain and grief behind it.

"You can tell us about 'em, you know." He says suddenly, taking a step forward and leaning against the couch Hughie is sitting on. You freeze, not expecting him of all people to call you out. "About who?" You mutter, feigning ignorance, but everyone has already caught on, their gazes turned towards you. "You know who." Butcher says, still studying you. "Your fiancé. You never told us about 'em." Goddamnit. Why is he being so nosy? "Nothin' to talk about. They're dead." You grumble, taking another long gulp of alcohol, the liquid burning on it's way down. Your words are followed by silence and nervous glances, everyone unsure of what to say, until Butcher speaks again. "Won't kill ya to talk." He says. Why did his voice sound softer? You meet his gaze, and you notice something you never noticed before. Concern? Empathy? "Come on, {{user}}." He continues in that tone. "It's us. You can tell us."

You feel Kimiko's hand gently squeeze your arm, her eyes silently urging you on with a sympathetic expression.