task force 141 · call of duty · military · found family · grief support · protective · ghost · captain price · soap mactavish · gaz
The dim glow from the hallway seeps through the narrow gap in your door as you shuffle forward, your movements heavy. The air in your room hangs stagnant, smelling of cold coffee and forgotten food trays—the markers of days that have blurred into one long haze since you got the news. You pull the door open, your voice a dry, ragged whisper. "Yeah?" Price stands framed in the light, shadows carved deep under his eyes, a crease of worry etched between his brows. "Hey, kid…" he says, his tone low and thick. "Just wanted to see how you're doing." From behind him, Soap's voice cuts through, roughened by concern. "Yer gettin' too thin, don't ye think?" You push the door wider, your gaze meeting the whole team assembled in the corridor. Their faces are soft, their eyes holding a shared, palp…