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The vacation was supposed to be peaceful.
Truly peaceful — no alarms cutting through sleep, no weapons within arm’s reach, no unconscious habit of scanning every new place for exits and cover. No radios crackling with bad news, no missions looming on the horizon. Just a small cottage on the edge of a quiet town, a forest stretching endlessly behind it, and a lake only a few minutes away by foot. Silence, real silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds.
Leon had told himself he could get used to this.
He sat on the wooden porch with a mug of coffee warming his hands, his back resting against the railing. The wood creaked faintly beneath his weight, old but sturdy. The sun was still low in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard, and the air was cool and clean in a way cities never managed to be. Each breath felt fuller here, less strained.
His eyes drifted to the garden.
Claire wandered barefoot through the grass, her steps slow and unhurried, toes sinking into the soft earth. She looked different when she wasn’t braced for danger — shoulders looser, movements lighter. As if she were trying to absorb every ordinary detail and store it away, making up for all the years when normality had been a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Leon watched her quietly, a small, private sense of relief settling in his chest.
And then he heard it.
“Meow.”
The sound was sharp enough to slice through the calm.
Leon’s head snapped up, instincts flaring before he could stop them.
Claire had frozen a few meters away, her head tilted back, eyes fixed on the old oak growing near the edge of the property. On one of its higher branches sat a cat — gray, scruffy, clearly distressed. Its body was pressed close to the trunk, tail wrapped tight around the bark, ears flattened as it let out another anxious sound.
“Claire…” Leon began cautiously, already knowing where this was going.
“Do you see him?” she asked, concern slipping into her voice as she started walking toward the tree. “He’s stuck.”
Leon set the mug down on the porch with deliberate care.
“I see him.” he said, standing. “And I also see that that tree is about three meters high.”
“Four.” she corrected automatically, eyes still on the cat. “Maybe five.”
“That doesn’t improve the situation.”
Claire placed her hands against the trunk, testing it, gaze tracing the path upward.
“Relax.” she said lightly. “I’ve climbed worse things.”
“Yes.” Leon replied, stepping off the porch. “And that is exactly why I’m saying no.”
She turned toward him, and there it was — that familiar, stubborn look that had gotten her through more than one impossible situation.
“Leon, it’s just a tree. And a cat. Look how scared he is.”
As if on cue, the cat let out a pitiful meow, claws digging into the bark.
Leon rubbed his face with his hand, already feeling the tension crawl up his spine.
“Claire.” he said carefully. “We can call someone. Animal control. The fire department. Anyone who does this for a living.”
“And wait half the day?” she scoffed. “No way.”
She reached for the first low branch and planted her foot against the trunk.
“Claire.” Leon said more sharply now. “Get down.”
“Leon.” she replied in the exact same tone. “I’m not going to fall.”
“That’s exactly what people say right before they fall.”
She glanced over her shoulder, grinning, completely unbothered.
“Stop panicking. It’s just a few meters.”
“It’s always just a few meters.”
She climbed higher.
Leon moved beneath the tree without thinking, hands raised instinctively, eyes tracking every shift of her weight. He knew — rationally — that catching her from that height would be impossible. But instincts weren’t rational, and neither was the cold knot forming in his stomach.
“Claire, please.” he said more quietly now, trying to keep his voice steady. “Get down. The cat will come down on his own.”
“He won’t.” she replied, reaching for another branch. “He’s terrified.”
“You will be too if you snap your neck.”
“Leon!”
The cat shifted nervously above them. The branch beneath Claire’s foot creaked, a dry, warning sound that made Leon’s heart lurch.
There it was.
That familiar, icy stab in his gut. The same feeling that always came a second before things went wrong.
“Claire…” he said slowly. “I really don’t like this.”
“I’m almost—”
The branch gave way.
It wasn’t dramatic. No loud crack, no pause. Just a dull, ugly crunch — and suddenly Claire’s weight had nowhere to go. She lost her balance, reaching for the trunk, fingers scraping uselessly over rough bark.
She fell.
Leon took one step forward, useless and too late, as she hit the ground with a sharp cry, landing badly on her foot.
“Damn it!” she shouted, instantly clutching her ankle.
The cat, apparently deciding the crisis was over, jumped down from the tree a second later and bolted into the bushes without a second glance.
Silence followed.
Heavy. Absolute.
Leon was at her side instantly.
“Don’t move.” he said firmly, kneeling beside her. “Where does it hurt?”
“My foot.” she hissed, jaw tight. “I think it’s… twisted.”
He carefully brushed her hands aside to look. The ankle was already swelling, skin flushing red beneath his fingers.
“I told you.” he said — but there was no satisfaction in it. Just fear that still hadn’t faded, relief that it wasn’t worse, and irritation that crept in only after those two emotions had settled.
“I know.” she sighed. “You can stop looking at me with that I told you so face.”
“I haven’t started yet. And I already told you that.” he muttered.
He touched her foot gently, testing. Claire hissed again, fingers tightening in the grass.
“Okay.” Leon said decisively. “We’re going back inside.”
“I can’t walk.”
“Then you won’t.” he replied, like it was the most obvious solution imaginable.
Before she could protest, he slipped one arm beneath her back and the other under her knees, lifting her with practiced ease.
“Leon!”
“Not a word.”
He carried her into the cottage, setting her down carefully on the couch. The space smelled faintly of wood and sunlight. Leon grabbed the first-aid kit without hesitation, movements efficient and controlled.
He grabbed the cold compress first, pressing it gently to her swollen ankle. After a moment, he wrapped it in a firm, careful bandage, his movements quick and practiced. Claire tilted her head back, hissing softly in pain. She closed her eyes, leaning against the back of the couch.
Everything done with the same precision he used in the field — quick, but gentle.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.
“A little.” she admitted. “But mostly… I feel stupid.”
He looked up at her.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“You’re good. Brave. Empathetic.” he said, one by one. “But next time I say this is going to end badly, listen to me.”
She smiled crookedly, guilt and humor mixing in her expression.
“But the cat is safe.”
Leon sighed, then shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his mouth.
“I can’t believe I lost to a cat.”
“You always lose to cats.” she said softly.
He sat beside her, leaning back against the couch. After a moment, his voice dropped.
“You know I’d worry anyway.”
“I know.” she replied. “And… thank you.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. Leon wrapped an arm around her carefully, protective without thinking.
“Next time.” he muttered, “I’m climbing the tree.”
“No way.” she snorted.
“See?” he sighed. “You don’t learn anything at all.”
But he held her a little closer anyway.