A/N: One day I'm going to write a fic about a happy relationship. Today is not that day.

Note that this is a standalone fic, it's not related to my many other takes on Olivier Armstrong

"You should leave your wife," Olivier said. Miles didn't answer. He was packing his suitcase for a week of leave, as Olivier shouted and stormed around his quarters. Every three months, he would go away and see another woman.

"It's only four weeks a year," he had told her many times, "The rest of the year I'm yours."

What Miles said was true, but Olivier didn't like it. His kiss always felt different when he returned, and he would touch her body in new ways she hadn't taught him.

She remembered the first time she and Miles had kissed, standing atop of Briggs, with snow falling lightly upon their shoulders. How naive she'd been back then. Miles had complained to her about not getting along with his wife for some time, and she had assumed that the kiss meant his marriage was completely over. They started a hot and fiery relationship that went on for four months before Olivier brought up his wife. That was three years ago.

"When are you going to leave her?" she'd asked.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he'd responded.

He had a lot of reasons. His wife relied on him for financial support. He wanted to see his children.

"You should stop making more of them then," Olivier had hissed at one point. Miles' wife had become pregnant one year into his and Olivier's relationship. Miles had to have a lot of sex when he visited his wife, to make it seem like it had been months since he'd last been with a woman.

His reasons for staying with his wife didn't quite make sense, but at first Olivier ignored it.

"I love you," he told her so many times and she completely believed him. But over time, she started to resent his wife. She got his money. She got his children. Even though Olivier had more money than she would ever need, and didn't want any children, she hated everything that Miles gave his wife that he didn't give her. And while she still trusted Miles, cracks started to form, tiny hairline fractures that let doubt in, just the smallest amount.

"What will happen when we retire?" Olivier had asked once.

"I'll stay with you," Miles had answered, without hesitation, without question.

"What if you get injured?" she'd continued. The possibility bothered her. If it was serious enough, he could get shipped back to his family, and maybe she would get to see him once or twice before never seeing him again after she ran out of plausible reasons to visit.

If they'd just been breaking military rules, they could rely on their colleagues to help them. People who implicitly acknowledged their relationship, and understood the anti-fraternization policy was a blunt instrument. But Miles and Olivier's relationship was exactly what the policy was for: preventing people from making decisions they would later regret in close quarters.

Buccaneer knew they were together and took a dim view of it. His face wore a look of disgust whenever there was a hint of impropriety in Miles and Oliver's interactions.

"Perhaps you should take a look inwards at your own actions," he'd said to Olivier once, when she'd complained she was in a bad mood, during her usual week of stomping around Fort Briggs and chewing people out in Miles' absence.

Olivier thought about it sometimes, but she didn't feel bad. She didn't think highly of a woman who sat around and bore children and didn't do much for her country. She'd even felt good at first, a bit superior, like she'd challenged Miles' wife and come out ahead. But she didn't feel this way any more, instead she felt trapped.

Sometimes Olivier wanted to sit Miles down and give him an ultimatum. Sometimes other ideas went through her head. Anonymous phone calls. Letters of unknown origin. But the result would be the same.

Was she ready to walk away? Was she ready to make him choose, knowing the answer might not be her? He was the man she woke up next to, the man she told her deepest secrets, the man who believed in her no matter what. And what if he did choose Olivier? What did he get from his wife that he needed, and would he expect it from her? Perhaps the way it was now was the way it was meant to be. What if it turned out she truly wasn't enough for him? And what if he picked his wife? What next? No amount of power, no amount of audacity could make someone love you.

Olivier watched Miles leave, and greeted him when he returned.

"You should leave your wife," Olivier said. Miles didn't answer.