Berlin, Airport
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After a quick stop to grab Bree's go-bag, they found themselves sitting in the stillness of the airport. The night's quiet blanketed the terminal, a stark contrast to the usual bustle Mathis had seen on previous trips. Only a handful of travelers moved about, their footsteps echoing in the nearly empty space.
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Bree approached with two coffees in hand, taking the seat beside him. Mathis glanced at her, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You didn't find anything a little stronger?"
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Bree chuckled, handing him the coffee. "Figured we'd save that for after the mission. For now, caffeine will have to do."
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Mathis took a sip, his eyes scanning the deserted terminal. "Fair enough," he said quietly, though his mind raced with the details of the mission. Every moment felt heavier now, the weight of what was coming closing in. Nine days. That was all they had before the meeting of top leaders, and before the Shadow Front unleashed chaos.
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He turned to Bree. Her face was calm, but tension was etched around her eyes, the faintest crease of worry beneath her professional demeanor. She had been through so much with him, had seen his darkest moments, and yet here she was—by his side once more.
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Bree leaned back in her seat, exhaling softly as she sipped her coffee. "We'll get ahead of this. We always do," she reassured him, her tone calm but firm, though there was a softness to her voice that only he seemed to recognize.
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Mathis leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his mind racing. But the tension he felt wasn't just about the mission. Bree's presence was a constant reminder of what he had been pushing away—what he had been afraid to face. His heart tightened as she leaned closer, her hand gently brushing his back in a soothing gesture. The warmth of her touch made it harder to maintain the distance he tried to impose between them.
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Their hands found each other, first by accident, then deliberately, fingers entwining with a familiarity that felt too natural to resist. He could feel her pulse through their touch—steady, reassuring, but with a hint of something more. That connection, once severed by his grief and anger, now returned with a force he hadn't expected. Bree's thumb stroked the back of his hand, and he let himself savor the sensation—if only for a moment.
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Mathis turned to face her fully, his heart thudding in his chest. Bree's eyes met his, her usual guarded expression softening. For the first time in what felt like years, he saw something raw there—vulnerability, affection, and maybe even hope. The space between them felt charged, as if the weight of everything unsaid was pressing down on them, waiting to spill over.
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"I've missed you," Mathis whispered, his voice barely audible, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.
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Bree's lips parted in surprise, her breath catching. Her hand tightened slightly in his, and for a brief moment, the mission, the chaos, and the dangers awaiting them in Rome disappeared. It was just the two of them, suspended in that moment where everything felt possible.
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"I've missed you too," she admitted softly, her voice almost trembling with the weight of the confession. Her gaze held his, and for a fleeting second, Mathis allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—they could have more than this.
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But the world wasn't built for moments like this. Not for people like them.
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The crackle of the airport's intercom broke the silence, announcing the boarding of their flight. The spell between them shattered, and they both turned their heads toward the sound, the intensity of the moment dissolving as the reality of their mission crept back in.
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Mathis pulled his hand away, the cold air rushing back in as he cleared his throat, trying to mask the sudden shift. "We should get going," he said, his voice steadier than he felt inside.
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Bree nodded, standing up, though there was a lingering sadness in her eyes. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled faintly. "Yeah. Let's do this."
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They gathered their things, walking toward the gate, side by side, but with a growing distance between them, as if the brief touch of intimacy had created more space than before. As they moved toward their flight, the weight of duty pressed down on them both, heavier than ever. Mathis could feel the tightness in his chest again, the conflict pulling at him from every direction. He wanted to protect Bree, to keep her close, but he knew their mission—and their separate loyalties—would always come first.
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The flight to Rome would be long, but Mathis knew it wouldn't be long enough to shake the feelings swirling inside him.
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Mathis was jolted awake by the gentle brush of fingers across his hair. Disoriented for a moment, he blinked against the soft light filtering through the plane's cabin. Bree's voice followed, low and soothing, "Welcome back. You slept like a rock. Has it been a while since you last slept well?"
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He glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "How long have I been out?"
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"Nearly the whole flight." Bree smiled, but there was a hint of something deeper behind her eyes—relief, maybe. "We're about to land."
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He straightened up in his seat, feeling the tightness in his shoulders ease, if only slightly. For once, his body wasn't wound like a spring. He hadn't slept this soundly in what felt like years, but that only reminded him of how much he'd been running on fumes. He tried to push the thought away, but Bree's kindness—it unsettled him more than it should.
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The early morning sun streamed through the window, casting a golden hue on the horizon. Mathis stared out, gathering his bearings. Moments later, the plane began its descent, the wheels kissing the tarmac with a soft thud.
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Bree glanced over as the heavy jet engines wound down. "I've got a contact waiting for us outside. He'll take us to a safe house."
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Mathis's gaze tightened, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You didn't mention anything about this before we left," he said, his tone sharper than intended.
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Caught off guard by his sudden shift, Bree exhaled, keeping her voice calm but firm. "Relax. I made contact while you were asleep. He's reliable. The safe house is secure, off the grid, and he's arranged weapons and equipment for us. Low profile, just like you'd want."
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Mathis's jaw clenched, his mind racing. He trusted Bree's skills, but this wasn't the first time he'd been blindsided by last-minute decisions. He scanned her face for any cracks in her calm exterior but found none. Still, the nagging doubt lingered, a habit too ingrained to shake easily.
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"Try not to be so tense," Bree added, her voice softening. "We'll need clear heads for what's ahead."
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Mathis didn't respond immediately. He knew she was right, but trust—especially now—was hard to come by. He nodded slowly, though the wariness in his eyes didn't fade.
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Mathis sat in silence, the hum of the descending plane filling the quiet between him and Bree. His body felt heavy from the rare sleep, but his mind was anything but rested. What was it about her? She had a way of slipping past the walls he'd built, even when he tried to reinforce them. Every time he let his guard down, even for a moment, she was right there, offering comfort in a way that made him both grateful and uneasy. The warmth of her touch lingered, and it scared him how easily he allowed it.
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He glanced at Bree, her profile calm, composed. How does she do it? She could switch between the mission and... whatever this was between them, so effortlessly. As if the weight of the world didn't press on her shoulders the same way it did on his. But he knew better. He saw the tension in her eyes, the way she carried her own burdens quietly, never asking for help. Bree was strong, but that strength only made things more complicated.
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Mathis's hands curled into fists in his lap. He hated this feeling—this vulnerability. His job, his life, had been built on control. Knowing the enemy, anticipating their next move, staying one step ahead. Emotions had no place in the world he inhabited. But Bree... She was different. She wasn't just another operative; she wasn't just another variable to manage. She was the one person who'd seen him at his worst, who knew the darkness that lived inside him, and yet she stayed.
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And now look where that got us.
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The mission had become personal long before they touched down in Rome. The Shadow Front had already taken so much from him, and now they were on the verge of plunging the world into chaos. Mathis told himself that his focus was on the stolen drone and stopping the assassination—those were all that mattered. But Bree's presence reminded him that there was more at stake than just revenge or duty. There was something between them—something raw and impossible to ignore, yet too dangerous to fully embrace.
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He flexed his hand, recalling how their fingers had intertwined at the airport. That moment of honesty, when he admitted that he missed her—it had felt like both a release and a mistake. He couldn't afford to be distracted by emotions. Not now. Not with the clock ticking and the stakes so high. And yet, every time he tried to push her away, she came closer.
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You're going to get her killed.
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The thought struck him harder than he expected. It was why he had kept his distance after his wife and child were murdered. He couldn't allow himself to care again, couldn't let anyone else become a target because of him. Yet here Bree was, walking into the same fire, willing to stand by his side. She should have left. She should have taken another assignment, stayed out of this mess. But she hadn't.
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He swallowed hard as the lump in his throat returned, and that old grief resurfaced. It was always there, lurking beneath the surface—the weight of loss, the failure to protect his family. It drove him, pushed him forward, but it also crippled him in moments like this, when the fear of losing someone else clawed at his insides. I can't lose her too.
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But could he really keep Bree safe? Could he protect her from the storm that was coming when he barely had a handle on his own emotions?
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His eyes narrowed as the plane touched down, his thoughts shifting back to the mission. Bree had said she'd made contact with someone on the ground, but she hadn't told him beforehand. That gnawed at him. He trusted her—of course, he did—but trust was fragile in their world. Too many moving parts, too many people with their own agendas. Every step forward felt like walking into quicksand, and it was getting harder to tell who was pulling the strings.
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Was Bree keeping something from him? Was her contact truly reliable? Or was she shielding him from something he wasn't ready to hear? His mind churned with possibilities, none of them settling well.
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He glanced at her again. She was staring out the window, calm as ever, but he knew her too well. Beneath that exterior was the same uncertainty, the same tension. She was carrying her own burden, and maybe she hadn't told him everything to spare him or to keep them both on track. Either way, he couldn't afford to let doubt creep in. Not now.
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Focus, Mathis. Get through the mission. Then, maybe, he could figure out what Bree really meant to him. But he doubted it. Life never worked that way for people like them.
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Duty came first. Always.
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And yet, as Bree's hand brushed his again—deliberately or not—he couldn't shake the feeling that duty and desire were about to collide in ways he wasn't prepared for.
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The plane taxied to a halt, the engine's roar fading to a low rumble. As the seatbelt sign flickered off, the cabin erupted into a frenzy. Passengers scrambled from their seats, eager to disembark, their movements frantic and disorganized. The aisles became a tangle of luggage and impatient travelers.
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Overhead bins were yanked open with a clatter, and people jostled one another, retrieving their bags. The air filled with murmurs of annoyance and tired sighs as a slow-moving line began to form at the exit. The airport, bathed in the soft glow of early morning, was already teeming with a fresh wave of arriving passengers. The once-quiet terminal was now alive with the cacophony of rolling suitcases, the distant hum of announcements, and occasional bursts of laughter or exasperated exclamations.
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As Mathis stepped into the terminal, he was struck by the sheer scale of the crowd. The scene felt like orchestrated chaos, with people moving in every direction—some in a hurry, others lost in their own worlds. The hum of activity stood in stark contrast to the calm of the plane. Mathis braced himself for the day ahead, blending into the ebb and flow of the morning rush, with Bree at his side.
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