"Absolutely Not."

Chapter 29: Perdition

(Simon's POV)

The thing about almost dying is that one appreciates life a little more afterward. Sue me, it's cliché to say it, but fuck – did my eyes open when I lay there amongst the dirt and pebbles, thinking that if I happened to survive such betrayal, I'd appreciate each breath more than I did before.

That I wouldn't take the minuscule details for granted, even the negative aspects.

From each, individual goosebump that might raise the hairs on the back of my neck to a nightmare that might awaken me in the middle of the night.

From the sensation of tactical gear weighing down on the muscles and flesh I thought would never regrow normally to scrawling my signature on a simple document.

From bruises and lacerations gained by missions or training sessions to finding new jokes to pester Johnny with, both of us pretending that he hadn't witnessed me writhing in pain as he attempted to staunch the fire.

I let it all remind me that I was alive.

As life slipped away from my fingers that had taken too many lives — fingers that probably didn't deserve to hold life's hand anyway — and through the unbearable agony, I cursed the act of selflessness if she didn't make it out alive.

Already overflowing with revenge that I, unfortunately, had to be patient in achieving, I practically burst at the seams when Kelsey returned. At first, I couldn't see all of her as Price had concealed me from her and vice versa as I sat silently in my corner of shame, but how could I keep my thoughts subdued when her idea of venomous spite usurped my resentful musings?

How could I willingly allow such a careless proposal to breeze by me like that without saying something? Price should've known better than to have me stay in the room, and I should have realized sooner, way before that bloody meeting, that I did not possess the ability to control myself around her after so long.

But I didn't think I would have forgiven myself if I hadn't said anything at all or made my presence known in some capacity. It would have broken her more had I kept the secret, pretending that I was dead.

What was I supposed to do? How would I have revealed myself and when? Weeks? Months? Who knew when exactly she could have mentally handled the surprise? The base was only so big with so many hiding places with my plaque still on the same door. The truth would have caught up to us somehow. It was probably for the best that I broke the agreement when I did, as I wanted her to trust her team again.

Trust me again.

I wouldn't have blamed her for not trusting any of us, but she surprised us all by accompanying Price back to a life comprised of bloodshed and adrenaline-soaked arrangements. What I would give to just rewind time to when nothing else mattered but warming up frigid fingers with a hot cuppa or when all that consumed my thoughts was if she was still breathing in that flat of hers in the States, not hesitating in purchasing any of the plane tickets.

A last-minute decision to take a break turned out to be one of the simultaneously worst and best ones I'd ever had the pleasure to make, and I'd do it again if it meant an extension – a repeat – of a glimpse into having some goddamn peace.

That was what she was to me, peace.

Home. Solace.

Paradise in our world of dodging bullets and falling deeper into the bloodlust-filled voids that our minds had become, and although I had displayed more of a hardened ego than I intended, it was inevitable in these circumstances.

I couldn't be who I was in Manchester.

Guilt soured up the surface of my tongue if I thought about it too much, agreeing with Price that once we found Kelsey, we'd recruit her back into the task force. I wondered if her year in Russia had healed the parts of her that desperately needed attention.

The grief of losing Lily and me in such a short amount of time.

The anguish of a betrayal by someone she'd regarded as almost as a family member – who she looked up to so highly.

I couldn't help but wonder if once she was cleared to be deployed again the monster lurking in the back of her head would resurface as it had for me.

"Like on a mission," she hesitated, fingers adjusting their hold on the warm mug, "You ever find yourself sometimes having to slow yourself? It's not the adrenaline of it all that I'm talking about. It's the- fuck, I don't wanna say that I get excited about slicing throats, but the satisfaction of wielding death's scythe is... intoxicating."

Not many people, barely a handful, had been honored with the dark thoughts constantly prowling around in my secured head. However, Kelsey quickly weaseled herself through those heavily guarded measures, and I simply didn't stop her.

"And you feel like some sort of monster because it shouldn't feel as good as it does to take a life?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah," I replied without hesitation.

How could I deny someone entry to my mental perdition when she was the one who helped silence the deafening infernos?

And there, while she slept, a piece of that exact person who I'd fallen in love with, slipped through the cracks. The one who, back home, had no borders around her emotions like she had constructed immediately here on base.

Hair still damp from her shower and clothes gathering wrinkles as she'd fallen asleep sitting up, it took me back to when I had whisked her away for those few weeks in Manchester, back at my flat.

I realized a little before her medical leave of absence that my emotions for Kelsey were more than platonic or straightforward. They were complicated and confusing and had me more terrified than I would be staring down the barrel of a gun.

It had gotten to the point where I was secretly searching for bigger flats or even a house large enough for the two of us. I felt completely mad for falling for someone so quickly that within less than a year of dating, if 'dating' was even the correct term, I was considering such a considerable step.

While I remained on base for breaks, leaving only when forced by Price to give my head a break, I would have at least had a reason to go back home if I had my other half to return to. If my home felt like home, it would be a lot easier.

Countless times I'd found us in a similar scenario back then with insomnia enveloping me in the middle of the night while sleep finally overcame Kelsey's weary frame, and she'd fallen asleep in the middle of whatever had made her eyelids heavy. Whether it was reading or even eating, she could just be without conditions.

For a moment more I wanted to just stay like this. It was the closest we could get to resetting time with her half-eaten sandwich in loose, tired fingers and a face that didn't scream to others that certain memories haunted her.

I knew where her mind constantly wandered when time gave her just enough of a reprieve to think.

I knew she grieved too much.

I knew the self-blame weighed heavily on her shoulders and those memories were still fresh as if they had happened hours ago.

Time could heal wounds, no matter what kind, but it took a hell of a lot more strength to endure it. Sometimes the mental battles felt more grueling than the most precarious missions where one didn't know if they would make it out or only their dog tags, the wounds accumulated becoming too extreme to ignore.

Time could also destroy one's resolve if their barriers weren't built with a sturdy enough foundation, each minute plucking away the bricks and scraping away the cement only to be kicked down when least expected.

The strongest of soldiers could easily break if time was not kind.

Buzz. Buzz.

My eyes slid over to my phone, distracting me from my musings as it lit up with a short message.

I sighed as I read it.

[Price: Debriefing in ten. Quick recon.]