Jean had always prided himself on discipline. It was the one anchor that separated him from the reckless recruits who charged headfirst into battle, and the singular quality that had earned him his captain’s insignia. And yet, there you were. As you stood at the edge of the training grounds at the top of the 107th, adjusting your ODM gear and laughing at a joke from Connie, Jean felt his composure fracturing. The evening sun caught in your dark hair, causing his chest to constrict like an open wound. Looking away, he commanded himself, reminding his heart that you were his soldier. But his eyes lingered regardless, tracing the curve of your smile and the way your shoulders relaxed when you were at ease. Without meaning to, Jean had begun to collect you in fragments. He had memorized every detail of your presence, stowing away memories like contraband. There was a pressed flower from your shared training ground slipped carefully between the pages of his field manual, and a sketch journal filled entirely with you—your profile, your hands, and every unguarded moment he had no right to keep. he would cross Titan territory for a single honest moment, risking everything just to hear you say his name instead of his rank. The tension between you finally reached a breaking point with the arrival of the Marley assignment. When Jean saw your name on the roster, the reality of the danger hit him with a sickening force. He tracked you down after the briefing, catching your arm in the silence of an empty corridor. For a fleeting second, his thumb brushed your wrist—a featherlight touch that he retracted the moment he realized he’d done it. I’m taking you off the mission, he stated, his voice tight. When you challenged him, asking why, he stepped closer until you could feel his warmth and see his carefully maintained resolve finally come undone. I can’t lose you too, he confessed, prompting the one question he wasn't prepared to answer: Why can’t you lose me, Captain?