The base was alive with a quiet relief, a fragile celebration echoing in the laughter and clinking of cups. There were only three days left until the arrival of the demons and their leader—no one knew what lay ahead, but tonight, for a brief moment, they let themselves be human.
Simon sat at the dining table, surrounded by the team and other soldiers. Laughter filled the air as Lesley cracked a joke about Alucard's hair, and Jessica teased Markus for spilling half his drink in a single gulp. Plates clinked, cups raised, the warmth of camaraderie pushing back the darkness outside.
But not everyone shared in the light. At the edge of the room, Lieutenant Noah stood with a cold stare fixed on Simon, his arms crossed and jaw tight.
Simon felt the weight of that gaze and stood slowly. He walked over, extending a hand in quiet greeting. "Lieutenant Noah. Good evening."
Noah's expression hardened as he slapped Simon's hand away. "I won't forget your arrogance and the consequences we faced because of you," he said, his voice low and venomous. "And I won't forgive your betrayals—neither would anyone standing here. Not even Colonel Cameron. You think you can fool your 'new friends'? Make them believe you're some hero? You're nothing but a traitor… and deep down, you know it."
The words cut into Simon like shards of ice. Inside, voices rose in a chorus of accusation:
"He is right… you were the only reason…"
"You should have died back then, but you chose to betray them."
"You couldn't save them—and now they're in Hell… for your mistake!"
Simon forced a faint smile, his voice calm. "I understand. Have a nice day."
He turned and walked away, his steps slow and deliberate. In the silence of the bathroom, he locked the door behind him and leaned over the sink, gripping the edges until his knuckles turned white. His reflection in the cracked mirror stared back, hollow and broken.
"I'm so tired… I just want to go home… I just want them back…" His shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked his chest.
Lieutenant Robert searched the base, moving quickly through dim hallways and empty training rooms. His mind raced with growing worry—he needed to find Simon before those dark thoughts consumed him.
At last, he found him outside the base, standing alone where the shadows swallowed the world. The cold night wind tugged at Simon's jacket, his silhouette small and still.
In his hand, Robert saw the glint of a pistol.
A surge of panic rose in Robert's chest. "Simon!" he called out softly, his voice catching.
Simon didn't turn. His voice was a hollow whisper. "Leave me alone, Robert… please. I just want to see my family again… I want to meet them… I want to go home and be with them… I don't deserve to be here anymore. Please… just let me go."
His shoulders trembled, tears streaking his face. "I'm tired of fighting… I'm tired of everything. I can't do this anymore… I'm not strong enough."
He raised the gun to his temple, his finger trembling on the trigger. In that moment, Robert saw not a soldier, but a man crushed under the weight of his own heart.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, SIMON?!" Robert roared, lunging forward. He grabbed Simon's wrist, twisting it away just as the shot fired into the ground. The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed in the night.
Simon's knees buckled, sobs tearing from his throat. "Why can't I just end it… why can't I go back to them? I just want them back… I want them so badly it hurts… it hurts so much, Robert…"
Robert threw the gun aside and pulled Simon into a tight embrace. "It's okay… it's okay," he murmured, his voice thick. "You're not alone. You're not alone… please, Simon… don't do this."
Simon clung to him, shaking with the force of his grief. "I just want to go home… I just want to see them again…"
The quiet was broken as two guards arrived, their faces pale with shock. One of them quickly called for Captain William. When he arrived, he didn't ask questions—he knelt beside them and wrapped his arms around Simon's trembling frame, his voice calm and sure.
"It's alright, Simon. We've got you. We're not letting you go anywhere. You're part of this family… and we're going to protect you."
They brought Simon to the medical wing, the harsh white lights bright against the night's cold shadows. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes blank and distant, hands hanging at his sides. Doctors worked around him with gentle care—checking his pulse, listening to his heart, speaking in soft, reassuring voices. Their hands were steady, their movements practiced—but there was a quiet compassion in the way they touched his shoulder or covered him with a warm blanket.
Outside the room, Colonel Cameron stood with Captain William and Robert, his brow furrowed with worry. "How is he?" he asked softly.
Robert's voice was tired. "Physically… he's unharmed. But mentally… he's fragile. Broken."
Cameron's eyes hardened. "The team must not know anything about this," he said firmly. "If anyone asks where Simon is, you tell them he's training alone and doesn't want to be disturbed. Understood?"
William nodded. "Understood, sir. We'll keep it quiet."
Later, in the quiet of the medical wing, Robert and William sat beside Simon's bed. Simon stared at the floor, his eyes red-rimmed and empty.
William reached over, squeezing his shoulder. "Simon… you're not alone. You've saved more lives than anyone here. You're not the traitor Noah says you are—you're the reason we're still alive."
Robert leaned in, his voice gentle. "You've been through hell, Simon… but we're here for you. No matter how heavy it gets… we're not letting you face it alone."
Simon didn't answer, but a single tear slid down his cheek. In that small, silent moment, the weight of the world felt just a little lighter.
Outside, the world waited. The demons were coming, and there were only three days left—but for now, in that sterile white room, there was nothing but the quiet promise of friends who refused to let him fall.