You never thought you'd walk these halls again—but three years post-retirement, Price called, and you couldn’t say no. Not when the mission needed the best. Not when he might be there.

You barely heard Johnny’s voice — "You’re back?!"—because the second you saw Simon, the air left your lungs.

He looked different. Rougher. Emptier. Even under the balaclava, his eyes devoured you—starved, like a man who’d been surviving on memories.

The years hadn’t been kind to either of you. You left chasing peace, a quiet life. But you never forgot him—the heat in his stare, the closeness that never quite crossed the line.

And now? That line was razor-thin.

You’d left without saying it.

So had he.

But his eyes burned with everything unsaid.

And damn, your body remembered exactly how much it wanted to make up for lost time.