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Rock, anchor, home

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They know what to do. They know it all by heart. Yes, they know the job.

They search, they hide, they fight. They stand in silence, for hours if they need to. They are patient, they know how to wait.

And they communicate through gazes, codes and quick, subtle touches. They don't need words.

Sometimes, there are quiet moments in between missions. In the night, in the silence, she shares her telepathy with them. She knows everything. They know everything. They all know each other in ways that defy all comprehension.

They found each other. Or something brought them together. It doesn't matter. It just is. And she is too practical, too professional to call this love. This is so much more. This is something sure and steady and dependable, like a rock, like an anchor. Like a home.

In this world, nothing is certain. And she hates uncertainty. This, however, this is the exact opposite of it. She has their back. They have hers. They are together in this. And this is how they can deal with anything.

No, nothing is certain, nothing except the three of them. And nothing can beat this power, this thing they share. Nothing can come between them. But let the world try. They'll know. And they'll be waiting.