It should have been one of those times he almost died.
He could see the cracks in her armor. Every time his team came back later than scheduled, or walked through the gate dirty and beaten, her hands would shake just a little more. Sometimes she would search his eyes desperately, reassuring herself that he was really there. Other times, her gaze would rest somewhere just over his left shoulder as she ordered them to the infirmary, and he would watch her go back to the confines of her office, shoulders tense and screaming. Seeing her in pain was like getting punched to the stomach, and it was getting harder and harder to bite his tongue and still his hands. Eventually, one of them would break.
But that wasn't how it happened.
A simple goodnight, on a balcony that had come to belong to them alone. He wasn't sure if there was exhaustion or some other useless excuse to blame - he didn't care. She was laughing - a rare moment when her shoulders relaxed and her guard was down - and he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Her laughter faded, but the walls stayed down, and she stared at him for a moment before reaching up and brushing her lips against his.
He broke.