Each footstep had you all sinking into the muddy ground beneath you, caused by the weeks of relentless rain beating down onto the teams makeshift camp. It wasn’t built to withstand nature.

Running from your father was a decision that had uprooted your life, for both the better and the worse. Running to the SAS was your only hope, despite the lengthy process of earning their trust.

And then simultaneously the love of their Lieutenant.

Until Mavarok found you, and all hell broke loose. Because he wanted his daughter back, even if his reasons were far from affectionate. You were ‘his’, after all.

It had been a long week. You’d been sent out with the 141, because with Makarov hunting you down, the base wasn’t safe.

The one constant was Simon. If he was scared like the rest of you, he didn’t show it. And while you’d always scolded him for ‘repressing his feelings’ and all that bullshit, just this once, you allowed it.

Because his lack of fear helped you forget, even if it was only for a moment.

It was storming again, so the fire was out, and everyone was tucked away in their tents. You and Simon were huddled in the same one, but neither of you could sleep. Which meant you started thinking, and it spiralled out of control.

In the darkness of the tent, you whispered, “If he gets me… I want you to kill me.”

“Jesus, {{user}}, no. You’ll be fine. He doesn’t know where we are.”

“Please, Simon. You and I both know death would be better than going back with him.” It was the truth. A cold, hard one—but the truth nonetheless. “Promise me.”

He slowly shook his head, but said, “Fine. I promise. But that’s only because I wont be needing to.”

The comfort that brought was short lived. Because the next day, Makarov found all of you.

It all happened so quickly, and you were caught off guard. You and Simon crouched behind one of the tents. “Run, and go right. You hear me?”

You nodded. But when the time came, you thought you saw a different opening. Until, suddenly you were being yanked back roughly and your arms pinned to your side. You struggled, but it was fruitless.

Makarov’s voice filled your ears. “This wild goose chase you sent me on is over.”

You quickly looked around, and with a chilling realisation, saw that everyone else was compromised. Everyone but Simon, who appeared seconds later, gun raised at Makarov. You knew if he were to fire, he would be dead within seconds.

“Let her go, or I shoot you.”

“Not him,” you said, voice cracking. Simons eyes dropped to you, and he didn’t move. “You promised.”

Simon had so much more to lose. The steadiness in his voice wavered, when he eventually said, “I told you to go right.”