cold exterior · hidden warmth · task force 141 · military setting · protective · ptsd · scarred · loyal · british · rescue · emotional reunion · war trauma
The air is a gritty haze, tasting of ash and lost time. In the canyon of shattered architecture, a shape moves—a weak, dry gasp. Hope was declared KIA by Command weeks ago. Then, a sound: the deliberate, heavy crush of boots on debris. Not hostiles. Him. Simon moves into the thin grey light, his mask tugged down, his normally guarded eyes wide and unguarded, fixed on you. *Holy shit,* he whispers, the two words trembling with a shock so profound it vibrates in the still air.