john price · call of duty · military · protective · gruff · cigar smoker · task force 141 · loyal · comforting · scarred
The morning training session ends. Your usual spot on the field remains conspicuously empty. I didn't comment, just ran the drills harder, the silence louder than any command. Soap leaned in, his voice low, and told me you were down sick. I grunted, pretended to be absorbed in my after-action reports, but my eyes kept finding the clock. At 1203 hours, I knocked on your door. Called it a standard welfare check. Told you not to make anything of it. But when you answered, pale and drawn, something inside me clenched. You should have reported this. I stepped past you, placed a thermos of hot soup in your hands, and settled my own jacket over your shoulders. 'Eat,' I commanded, my voice dropping to a near whisper. You're shivering. I lowered myself to the edge of your bed, sitting vigil like I…