Her Guardian Demon
The next part of @ocean-blue-whump and I's collab From Tyrant to Martyr.
Masterlist HERE || Previous part HERE
CW: Military, lady whump, broken bones, medical, mentions of abuse, guns, and slight violence
Beware this is a long chapter (5.5k words)
***
It’s been a long time coming, and Richie, codename ‘Demon’, is more than happy to finally bring Marlow home after ten months. It took countless months for Oscar to work on figuring a way to track her and Hunter’s location, but once it was found, the plan then got set in motion. He is sitting in the helicopter now, tapping at his tablet on his knee, making sure to memorize every nook and cranny available at the mansion if he is going to feel confident enough to go in and clear it room by room. Richie isn’t the kind to make mistakes that can cost the team an unwanted casualty or a hindrance where it could cost them valuable time. He takes a moment to look out the window, seeing the vast expanse of the forest, thinking about the very meeting he had just hours ago with Bruno and General Liam.
“What the hell do you mean I have to bring Hunter Bianchi back alive? Have you seen the shit he’s been doing to her? You want me to show mercy?” Richie’s voice rang out in the room, glaring at Liam and peeking over at a distraught Bruno.
Liam’s face was gaunt and he waved his hand. “I said what I said, Lieutenant Commander. You are to bring back both Lieutenant Marlow and Hunter Bianchi alive. That doesn’t mean you can’t use force or rough him up, but the idea is that he has to face justice.”
“Face justice? What kind of fucking justice will be served to a monster like him? Huh? He’s violated her and mocked her in videos. He’s attempted to murder her countless times. Look at Bruno, for God’s sake!”
Bruno barely had the will to look over at the men. “The longer you two bicker… the less likely the chance is that my daughter is going to live.” His voice, hoarse and tired, added onto his previous statement, “I don’t want him alive either, but… I want my daughter back.” He started to cry brokenly into his hands, shoulders shaking from the emotional distress caused by his daughter’s absence.
Liam sighed despondently and rubbed at his own face. “Marlow comes first. If Hunter does try anything, you can neutralize the threat, but I know you have it in you to do the right thing, Richie. Do it for her and Bruno, won’t you?”
“I’ll do it for both of them, but the right thing is to put a bullet between his eyes. I can’t believe you are letting me take Reaper and Khrystyna with me. Khrystyna especially. She’s her best friend. Are you really going to make her see Marlow in that state, Liam?”
“She is our best Medic, and you know that. Anything that needs immediate attention, she could do, and it can very well save her life. I suggest you go now before I have someone else go. Other’s that won’t have Marlow’s best interest as much as you all. You’re dismissed.”
Richie’s eyes were glued onto Liam’s, both men having their differences, but they both knew the stakes of the mission enough. Eventually, he saluted and spun on his heels to gather the resources and teammates he needed to make this mission a success. Before he made it through the door, he felt someone grab his sleeve. He didn’t need to look back to know who it was, but he turned his head enough to give Bruno his full attention.
“Whatever you do, just make sure she knows she’s loved, okay? I know she’s scared and traumatized. Don’t treat her any differently, please. From a father to you… save her.”
Richie forced an understanding smile. “Of course. She’ll be in good hands. Don’t stress about it. She’ll be back with us in no time.”
Truth be told, when he replays that memory in his head, he doesn’t know how close he can keep his promise. He’s seen the most recent video Hunter published, and in there, Marlow’s state was abysmal; Marlow was emaciated to the point her ribs were protruding, her bruises from videos ago still as prominent as ever, her eyes appearing with that thousand yard stare and dull, and her screams sounded even more agonized than prior ones. He has no idea if she’s still going to be alive when they reach her, the fear now clawing at his dark heart. What if they are too late? What will he have to tell her already deteriorating father? That his kid didn’t make it because they weren’t fast enough?
He rolls his shoulders and forces the sinister thoughts out of his mind, wanting to instead focus on the mission planning and possibly check on the others going on the mission as well. Running a quick hand through his hair, he stands up in the helicopter, holding onto one of the safety ropes once he addresses the group. “Alright, people, we have an ETA of roughly ten mikes. Mission is simple if you follow the right steps. We land in the clearing posterior to the mansion, obscured by the forest. We will each take an exit and enter through, looking into each corner and room like never before. Hunter Bianchi will be brought back alive, so if he is violent or tries anything, put him on his face and neutralize him. The main goal here is to find Second Lieutenant Marlow Stenberg and get her back here ASAP.” He watches each face carefully, settling on Khrystyna’s worried expression. “She will most likely need life saving support, so when one of us finds her, it is detrimental that we call out the location and get back up. Is that clear? We are not bringing back anyone in a body bag. Not on this mission.” Richie gets a resounding roar back from the group, but he isn’t paying too much attention. It’s how Reaper is trying to console Khrystyna, whispering into her ear and offering a handkerchief for the young pararescuewoman. He still can’t imagine what it must be like for her, having scrutinized many videos so she can be prepared for what injuries and illnesses poor Marlow may have.
It doesn’t help either that Reaper, practically Marlow’s more sane brother, unlike Chevy, is also going with them. The man, religious and pious as ever, forced himself to watch over five hours worth of videos, each time retching and sobbing that his poor sister doesn’t deserve that fate. Chevy was originally supposed to attend the mission, but upon further inspection, the man wasn’t deemed safe enough to go due to his rage and the high likelihood that Hunter Bianchi would have been killed on the spot or tortured heavily. Not that Richie minded the thought of it, but he has orders, and if anyone makes a mistake today, that will be on his conscience and Liam will beat his ass for insubordination.
“Khrys? You want to have a chat with me?” Richie pops the question into reality, adjusting his rifle and clearing his throat. He watches her every move, needing to be ready to make the decision if she will really be going in with them or not.
Khrys stands up fully, forcing a smile and walking past Richie to a more secluded part of the helicopter. “I am all ears, Sir. What’s going on?”
One more sweep with his eyes, and he finally can find the words he wants to tell her. “I know this is a lot for us, but I need you to promise me that you won’t freeze up or let your emotions get in the way of this, because Marlow needs us to get her help. If I can’t trust you to do your job, I will ground you from this mission and I can get one of the other medics to step up and follow us in.” His voice is both sincere yet commanding. He has his own feelings too, but he can’t let it cloud his judgement nor his mind.
She looks him in the eye and purses her lips, letting out a small sigh. “She is my best friend, Richie. You think I want to be stuck in this damn plane when you damn well know I am the best medic we have here? I want to be there for her.” Her eyes well up with tears and she wipes them away with the palm of her tactical glove. “I can’t bear to know that I could have helped her and I was stuck here because I miss her so much. It’s been far too long and lonely without her. I am going in there.”
He swallows and nods his head slowly, musing over every word and action Khrys has done up to that point in time, and he looks out the window. “It has been a long time without our little Tyrant, hasn’t it? Just don’t let it cloud your judgement and do the job you are great at, exceptional even. Be there for her and save her life as best as you can. Okay? When you take a seat, have Reaper come over here so I can have a word with him.”
She doesn’t say another word and she heads back to where she and Reaper are sitting, tapping his shoulder and pointing to where Richie is standing. Both Reaper and Richie stare down one another, trying to get a read from what they can see, and it doesn’t take long for Reaper to make his way to Richie, standing tall and broad. “Sir.”
“Reaper…” Richie licks his lips and tries to think of what he can say to him, but Reaper beats him to the punch.
“I understand that you are worried about my relationship with Marlow, but I know what I have to do here. Hunter won’t die and neither will Marlow. That’s a promise from a brother to a sister. I promised her a while back that I would look out for her and teach her about dia de los muertos. I swore to her I would teach her how to make a quesadilla without a spatula. I swore to her that I would be a good brother, so if you try and ground me here, I won’t listen, because in my heart, she comes first.” Reaper’s voice is lower than usual, almost holding back the unimaginable amount of emotions he must be feeling.
Richie understands what it is like to have someone you care about get hurt, but never in this situation would he have been able to be like Reaper. He can’t afford to let his emotions get in the way of saving her life. He reaches out and places a warm hand on Reaper’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “You are a great brother for Marlow. I know she’s going to be in great hands. Don’t forget the mission details, and let’s bring her home, okay?”
Reaper smiles back at Richie, and it’s a genuine one of hope and love. “She’s coming back home today. My sister is coming back home.” He turns to meet up with Khrystyna, hugging her tight and helping her do some final preparations for the landing.
It’s almost time. He checks his watch and walks over to the pilot, seeing it’s Sebastian. “Any change in plans or are we still green for the mission?” Out of everyone on that aircraft, Sebastian seems to be the only one holding himself together so well that he doesn’t feel the need to worry about him as much as the others.
They glance over at Richie, half scoffing, “You think I would turn this heli around if things weren’t green?” They focused back on the controls and cracked their neck. “I miss Marlow too, but I know you guys will get her back here in one piece. Plus-” he gives a cocky grin that Richie knows pilots have- ‘if you don’t bring her back, then I am leaving all your asses here until you do. So no pressure. Have fun.”
That makes Richie laugh for the first time in weeks and he shakes his head. “You are too much to deal with, Seb. How long do we have now?”
“Yeah, but I am one hell of a pilot. We got about two minutes. I would get everyone rounded up for landing. Once you are all inside, I will move the heli closer to the mansion so we can get a quicker evac. Sounds good?”
“That sounds perfect to me. Alright, I’m off. If you need anything, call us or use your survival pistol.” Richie gives one helmet tap to Sebastian and makes a hand motion for everyone to round up and get ready. “This is it, people! You know my expectations of you. Everyone is coming home at the end of the day, so make it happen. Good hunting.”
The landing comes so quickly, that within seconds, everyone disembarks towards the mansion in different directions, flanking every exit, their sights aimed at any movement. Richie speaks into his comms, his voice low and gravelly, “Top priority is locating Marlow Stenberg. If you run into Hunter Bianchi, handle it as swiftly as possible. On my mark, we head in.” He makes it to the back door by the kitchen, inhaling slowly and settling into his demeanor for the mission. His heart will have to be locked away for the duration of this until they make it home. Maybe then he can ponder over the events.
“Alright, mark. Get to work.” He uses his shoulder to bust through the wood and glass door, forcing his way into the mansion, eyes scanning the area followed by this rifle. The moment he steps inside the mansion does something deep in his gut tell him something is wrong. It’s this eerie feeling he gets when there’s death in the air, his jaw tightening when his brain tries to tell him they may be too late.
“Irrelevant. I’m bringing her home,” Richie whispers to himself, adjusting his grip on the rifle and trudging along both slowly enough to not miss any key details, but quick enough in case Marlow is in dire need of attention. He’s been around Marlow ample times to understand she’s a strong, stubborn, and resourceful woman, but even with the training she has from Valdemar’s resistance training, no one could handle Hunter Bianchi for as long as her. Not without shattering like some fragile little porcelain doll. No matter how much he trusts himself and is confident in his own abilities, Richie is well aware he would have been in a body bag or worse.
This only hastens his mission in looking around the area, clearing each room he runs into, every closet he tears open just hoping for a chance to shoot the monster that has been hurting Marlow, his sister in arms. He checks his watch and exhales through his nose, counting the minutes passing by. Every sixty seconds that passes by without an update is as good as Marlow getting more than a foot through the door of death. Two hundred and eighty four seconds since the mission launched. That’s four minutes and forty four seconds that Marlow has now lost.
The next room is different now; no longer a guest bedroom or a utility closet, but now a surveillance room, multiple screens along the wall, some playing videos of Marlow in… various positions, all demeaning and sexual in nature. Others, however, showed a live feed, from seeing Namdar and Damien, both his teammates, scouring around the mansion in hallways and passages, to then seeing a small blip in the center of a tiny room. He approaches the screen, eyes narrowing to focus in on the image until realization hits him like a truck.
It’s Marlow.
Adrenaline rushes through his veins, the objective now clear in sight. His next item is to see where she is exactly so he can route his way to her, and in the corner of the video, it’s labeled ‘Pet-Room 2F4R’. Second floor, fourth room. His options were now going to the East or West wing when he’s on the second floor, and he focuses on the window, seeing the slight outline of the moon in the back. Room is facing East, so the room is in the East Wing. He has his mark.
Another glance at his watch. Seven minutes, thirty three seconds. Time is ticking, and it’s not in Marlow’s favor, seeing how she’s motionless in the room. It’s not looking good, but he will be the one getting to her. His voice finally breaks through the silence as he rushes through the mansion, getting to the grand staircase headed to the East Wing. “Found a hostage target. Second floor, East Wing. Should be the fourth room. Await confirmation. Aggressor not spotted yet. Assume he’s dangerous and armed until neutralized. Patches, I need you at my location. Ranger, Gator, and Reaper: Hunt him down. Surveillance room is in the West Wing, ground floor, three doors from the kitchen. Make it happen.”
He doesn’t care to listen to their acknowledgements, making it to the second floor, instincts kicking in and raising his rifle to face down one side of the hall before spinning to face the other side. Taking care not to make unnecessary sounds, he nimbly navigates the hall, the scent of death and decay nearing, growing far stronger. He’s headed in the right direction until he arrives at a door with the lock on the outside, facing the hallway. Just that little fact alone that someone would go out of their way to change the orientation of the lock tells him his answer.
Reaching out and taking the handle by the hand, he turns it, hearing the click of the lock undoing itself in the process. He pushes the door open, rifle at the ready in case there’s someone waiting for him. In all his years of being a Navy SEAL and seeing the atrocities the world has to offer, none of those situations came close to this. There she is, Marlow Stenberg, on the floor, exhaling her last breath, body in such a state that she is basically a living- more so dying- corpse.
“Medic!” He screams into his comms, snapping into action within milliseconds of seeing Marlow’s decrepit body. He slides to her side, setting the rifle to the side and getting his bag ready, fingers at her neck to find a pulse. It’s barely registerable, and his voice is quick, “Carotid pulse negligible. We’re losing her. I needed a medic fucking yesterday, hurry your ass up, Patches!” He commands into the earpiece, leaning down to tilt her head by lifting her chin, bringing his lips to hers so he can provide a few rescue breaths.
Seconds feel like centuries to him, but he won’t stop until he’s dead or somebody tears him off her. His hands interlock just above her chest, his eyes grazing over all the injuries scattered throughout her body just before pressing down two inches in succession of another press. The sickening sounds of ribs and her sternum snapping under his force will stay with him for many years, he is certain, but he refuses to give up. Having practiced CPR in the past prepares him for this, working at around one hundred to one hundred and twenty compressions a minute.
After thirty compressions, he once again provides rescue breaths, his eyes darting to the side to see Khrystyna just standing there, her own eyes wide with terror. The way her body is tense tells Richie that the medic is in shock, and he doesn’t have the patience to deal with her hesitation at such an awful time. “Khrystyna, get your fucking ass over here before she dies on us! Give me an epi IV right this second!”
Khrystyna still stays frozen in time, her eyes glued onto Marlow’s body being shattered by his attempts to resuscitate her. Richie wastes no time and gives the command one last time, “Get over here or she dies! You want her to die?! Then. Get. Here. NOW!” Somehow that’s what finally snaps the girl out of her fearful stupor, Khrys coming over with newly-found haste, her medic bag in front.
It only takes a few seconds to get the needed equipment out, from the IV bag, IV catheters, and start kit to the antiseptic, local anesthetic, and gloves. Khrys finally holds Marlow’s arm, eyes grazing over the bruises, cuts, needle tracks, and the rest of the evidence proving a horrible situation that has gone on for far too long. “There’s signs of drug use… I don’t know how good her veins will b-”
“Can you do it or not?” Richie asks in between compressions, locking gazes with the flustered medic. “I did not bring you all the way to the end just for you to find excuses.” He gives Marlow a few breaths and resumes his work, sweat finally building up on his brow. “So get me vein to work with. If not, she’s not making it another minute. You signed up to be here, you raised your right hand, now do it.”
The medic ducks her head and focuses her efforts back on Marlow, using her fingers to look for the most suitable vein. Fortunately, it doesn’t take long to find a vein on the back of her right hand, working the needle and IV catheter in. She sets the IV bag on a portable stand, prepares the saline push and epinephrine, pressing the plunger down so Marlow gets the dosage she needs. “D-done, Sir. Now what?”
Richie nods his head, groaning slightly and jutting his chin over to the bag. “Get me some way to monitor her vitals. We need to track blood pressure, heart rate, and anything else we can get. Actually, I am going to have you switch with me. Take over and I can get her hooked up with the monitoring equipment.” The way her eyes widen at the prospect makes his jaw set tight, but he’s been mad for far too long. “I can’t keep doing this alone. I need you to pick up the slack. So take care of her, and we can get her home. The boys are finding Hunter.”
Khrys, once beside him, gives a quick nod, her hands ready to land on Marlow’s chest to provide her own compressions. It’s different when it’s someone you love and care about, so when she feels Marlow’s sternum and ribs give way, crumbling under the pressure to keep her alive, a choked sob escapes Khrys’ lips. “Oh, Marlow… oh my God, Marlow… Don’t die on me, please don’t,” the medic begs with each press.
Richie’s voice breaks the momentary silence, “Keep going. One, two, three, four, repeat. Keep it up, darling. Marlow, don’t give up on me.” He stands up, finally able to take the second of respite Khrys is giving him, taking another sweep of Marlow’s body, trying to find any other injuries that need immediate action. The extremely dark bruising around her intimate areas, hips included, indicate something to him that forces a bubbling rage to ensue. “The… this fucking son of a bitch,” he growls lowly, digging his fingers into his face and dragging it along to his jaw, using the pain to bring him back to focus. Khrys gives him a quizzical expression, to which he responds softly, “He fractured her pelvis. Discoloration matches the possible diagnosis, along with sexual battery.”
Gasping from the shock of the revelation, Khrystyna falters in her compressions but doesn’t need Richie to tell her, returning her full efforts to keeping Marlow’s weak heart going. “Her pelvis… how… are we going to move her?” Tears fall down her face at an unprecedented rate, falling on the marred-up woman’s body as she jolts from the life saving actions being taken. “Is she going to make it?”
“We’ll move her with a stretcher. I’ll have one of the boys grab it here once she is stable. She will make it. She is the best fighter I’ve ever met. She won’t give up so easily. Not if she made it this far.” Richie is telling himself that as much as he is telling Khrystyna to not give up hope. He makes sure the fluid is getting into Marlow, his eyes narrowing at the missing skin on her arm where her tattoo used to be. He was forced to memorize any bodily marks she has in case he would have had to… identify a body. It’s not something he wanted to do, but it is an avenue he is prepared to go down.
His character and ability to hold down his emotions is what separated him from Bruno, the courageous yet stubborn man unable to think about his daughter in such a light without shattering. Believe me, old man, you wouldn’t have survived through this. No one else could do this. Someone is going to have to brief you on this later, and that will be me.
He helps set up the heart monitor on Marlow, being careful to not disturb Khrystyna’s movements, seeing the number pop up on the portable screen. “Not great, but you are doing good, Patches.” His wondering about how the search is going gets answered when gunfire rings out in the manor, his eyes darting to the door, rifle unslung and aiming just in case things go wrong.
“Someone give me an answer of what the hell just happened,” Richie calls out into his comms, giving the standard five second wait when Damien responds back.
“We found him and he started firing at myself and Reaper,” the naval NCO speaks with a clear voice.
Reaper adds to the mix, “Target neutralized and restrained. Currently having Namdar escort them to the aircraft for detention. Do I need to do anything else, Sir?”
Richie looks to Marlow, seeing some color return to her, but they aren’t out of the woods yet. “Get me a stretcher for Marlow. We need her evacuated while she is stable enough. Hurry. The other two: keep an eye on our target. I don’t want the fucking weasel finding a way out of this.” With his orders given, he knows they will be followed to perfection, kneeling next to Marlow, focusing on the monitor. “Stop compressions.”
Khrystyna’s face falls for a brief second, the young pararescueman hesitating and pulling her hands back, holding them up to see how Marlow is doing. To both their shock, she’s actually keeping a fairly decent enough rhythm without assistance, and there’s a collective sigh of relief. For the moment, Marlow is going to be okay. “I’ll work on wrapping her pelvis if you help me with that, Demon?”
Right. Her pelvis.
Her shattered, pulverized pelvis has to be held together with bandages and wrapping so the surgeons can go in to fix it in the operating room. The dark bruising along her fair skin shows the level of damage and blood simply pooling underneath the surface, but with how emaciated she is as well, it’s the fact Richie can see where some of the fractures occurred, the subtle swelling barely trying to hide it. “I can help. Just tell me what to do, Patches.”
Going along with each instruction Khrystyna gives him, he holds her legs together while they work the bandages underneath her posterior hips and at the level of… the great trochanters. Richie knows a lot about killing people, but he will leave the medical jargon to Khrystyna. All he can do for Marlow is help her pelvis get wrapped with what they have on hand, helping tie it off so it stays still and stable. When he tightens the bandages, he hears an audible whimper, and his blood boils, wanting to spend ten unsupervised minutes with the weasel that did this to her.
Hearing footsteps behind him, he glanced back to see a worry-stricken Reaper, the SEAL operator wiping his eyes quickly with his gloved hands and bringing the stretcher over. “I… I brought it, Sir. Is she…?”
“She’s alive, Reaper. I wouldn’t lie to you. She was close to going through the doors, but I am too stubborn and Patches here is a great medic. She’s going to pull through,” Richie replies back in a softer tone, but there’s still business to be done. “Now do you want to help get her on the stretcher and carry her to the chopper?”
Reaper can only force himself to nod, his eyes slowly looking over the poor girl’s body, taking in the horrors that afflicted her for almost a full year. He crouches by her head, hands working under her shoulders. “Ay, mija… ¿Qué te pasó?” He asks in a horrified voice, picking her up with too much ease along with Richie. The only guess they have is that she is under 90 pounds, which for a woman of her age and height, is abysmally low.
Her heart monitor only spikes for a quick moment, but it goes back to normal, and Richie can only attribute that pain to her pelvis… among other things too. He doesn’t have an issue helping Reaper and Khrystyna lead Marlow’s limp body down the stairs, through the manor of horrors, and eventually out into the grassy yard, where the helicopter is now idling about. A few feet away, there’s an individual cuffed, in between Damien and Namdar’s rifles.
The fucking weasel is smirking and laughing at Marlow. Richie clenches his jaw so tightly, his teeth might break under the pressure, but he is on a mission right now to get Marlow into the helicopter. That’s exactly what he, Reaper, Sebastian, and Khrystyna do, locking her stretcher in place and hooking her up to far better medical equipment and IV fluids. The whole debacle lasts a few minutes, and Reaper finishes it off by tucking in Marlow, making sure she is covered and that it doesn’t disturb the intubation they have set up for Marlow’s breathing. Richie places a hand on her forehead, giving her a small kiss on the head before stepping out of the helicopter and whistling at the two remaining SEAL members to step away from the bastard.
Time for business.
Richie pulls his gloves to be taut on his hand and without even wasting a breath, swings a fist right into Hunter’s jaw, sending the weasel sprawling on the floor. He places his boot on Hunter’s head, applying pressure down, forcing his head into the soft earth. “If I see you smile one more time, I am going to make sure you drown in a puddle of blood. Damien? Did this waste of life fire at you guys?”
Damien clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Five times. Three missed, two hit the vest.”
“Five. I can do five. How’s five more counts of attempted murder sound?” Richie chuckles down at Hunter, who is now glaring at the Navy SEAL commander.
“How was it seeing my masterpiece? She’s gorgeous, huh? My little Starshine,” Hunter groans out, writhing in his restraints.
Richie’s eyes darken and he pulls Hunter up by the handcuffs only, his voice low. “You are lucky I care enough about the law and justice. That woman you have been tormenting is a Second Lieutenant of the United States Air Force. She may not have had anyone to protect her while she was here, but she has me now. I am going to be that girl’s wall, her protector, and her personal demon. That being said, you call her by that sick name again, and we are going to have problems. Just to make it crystal clear-” he punches Hunter in the stomach, keeping him up while the weasel coughs relentlessly.
Hunter looks over at Khrystyna, humming. “I could have had a pair of puppies.”
Richie tosses him over to Damien, snarling, “Tape his mouth shut and keep him away from anything important in the helicopter. Now.” He steps away, trying to collect his emotions, upset at himself for letting Hunter get to him, but what kind of a man would he be if he didn’t care about Marlow? He rubs his face and stares out at the stars in the sky, knowing Bruno is worried sick about the mission. He pulls out his phone, and dials in a number, holding the device to his ear, the ringing tone cutting out to a hoarse voice.
“Where is she, Richie?” Bruno’s voice gives away the audible fear laced in the words, almost like a serpent coiled around its prey.
Richie smiles proudly, responding with the simplest answer he can muster, “We got her back, Bruno. We got our Marlow.”
He doesn’t know why, but hearing Bruno’s cries of thanks and gratitude warms him up, and just the amount of love Bruno has for his daughter gives him his reason.
The reason why he risks his life for others.
It’s not for himself or for the military. It’s not even a reason to kill. It’s for the little moments of telling a grieving father he’s found their long lost daughter and they can have a reason to hope again. “Mission complete.”
