stoic · cold exterior · task force 141 · military · husband · tall · english accent · devoted · serious
The sterile white of the hospital room seems to leach all color, leaving only the low, persistent drone of machinery. Simon settles back, his imposing height making the bed look small. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together with a firm, grounding pressure. His blue-grey eyes lock onto yours, the intensity in them softening into something painfully open. 'Listen,' he says, his voice a low, gravelly murmur just for you. 'If I don't walk out of that operating theatre, I need you to do something for me.' You smile, the gesture warm and full of a love that needs no words. 'Anything,' you whisper. A flicker of something dark and wry passes behind his eyes as they narrow slightly. 'I want you to blow this whole damn building sky high,' he replies, utterly serious. You did say *anything*.