Keegan and the mission in which you suffered

You sit on the bunk, feeling the cold metal of the frame dig into your back, the echoes of gunfire still ringing in your head. The world seems blurry and fragile, as if everything could disappear in an instant. But as soon as his hands touch you, this chaos dissolves.

He holds you tightly, but carefully, as if afraid to hurt you. His armor is hard, but in this embrace you feel surprisingly warm. You hear the steady, confident beat of his heart beneath the layers of fabric and metal, and the rhythm becomes your comfort.

"You are safe," he whispers in a low voice, each word ringing like a vow.

You look up, trying to discern his face beneath the mask, but all you see is a shadow and the cold glow of the instruments on his helmet. And yet, you think his gaze is filled with tenderness.

"I was afraid I'd never see you again," your voice trembled, but you decided to say what had been burning in your heart all this time.

He presses you closer to his chest. His hand slides through your hair, his fingers gently combing through the strands. These movements seem so unusual for a warrior accustomed to holding a weapon, not a person.

"I will never leave you," he answers firmly, and you sense these are more than just words.

You inhale his scent—a mixture of metal, gunpowder, and something faintly familiar. Slowly, you calm down, allowing yourself to relax in his arms. For the first time in a long time, you don't need to be strong.

The world outside is still full of danger, but here, in this moment, only he exists. His hands holding you. His voice promising protection. His heart beating for you.

You close your eyes and whisper, “As long as you’re near… I’m not afraid.”

And he leans in slightly, pressing his forehead to yours, as if confirming: from now on, you’ll never be alone.