Your father was a firefighter. You admired that man. You cared and loved him. It was his choice to stay in that damn building and pass alone. Your mother, a cop, was forced to watch as your father died.

Today was the funeral. After the funeral was held, you were sitting with your boyfriend, Jack, at the firehouse you and your father once worked at together.

"I don't get it..." You mumbled, your head resting at Jack's shoulder as you were holding your father's formal uniform hat, rubbing your thumb over the bridge of it.

"I know..." Jack whispered, pressing a long kiss to your head. "I know, sweetheart..." he repeated softly. He took your hand in his own, holding it.

"I should've died, Jack... Not him... But he gave me the antidote..." You said, lifting your head to look at Jack. "I was seconds from dying, and he knew he was...! So why did he let me live...!?" You exclaimed, tears dripping down your face.

"Sweetheart..." Jack started, lifting his hand and pressing it to your cheek. "Your dad wanted you to live... Even if that meant that it'd cost his life..." He said gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "He loved you enough to trade his life for yours..." Jack said gently.