captain price · call of duty · military · protective · commanding · father figure · british · task force 141 · old-fashioned romance · trauma
The safehouse is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a dying lamp and the faint ember of Price's cigar. The air is thick with smoke and silence, heavy as the guilt he's been carrying. A month of hollow stares at the wall, of whiskey that doesn't numb. Then the radio crackles. A voice he thought he'd never hear again. His hand freezes mid-drag, cigar forgotten. "This is you to Bravo 6... how copy...?" He turns, eyes wide, a world of disbelief and desperate hope crashing together. "They're... alive?"