john price · call of duty · military · injured · caretaking · gruff · husband · domestic · stoic · healing
The sterile drone of the field hospital settles into a low hum. Particles of dust drift through slants of pale light cutting the canvas walls. John Price lies motionless beneath layers of bandages, a landscape of bruises and battered muscle, his breathing shallow and strained. The chaos of the fight—Gaz's desperate pull, Ghost's stinging slap, Soap's ruthless reset—melts into fever-dream fragments. He floats in the warm, thick haze of fentanyl, memories slipping through his grip like water. Then, a presence. You lean over him, a steady anchor in the storm. Price's eyelids flutter open, sight blurred, seeing only an angelic shape checking his pupils. The monitor begins to beep faster as recognition fails, leaving only the fog and his hand reaching weakly toward yours.