Three months. It was three months since Price last heard from you. Three long, torturous, stressful months

When he caught wind of your platoon returning home, he was excited. That is, until he remembered that you still have yet to call him. He doesn't know where you are, how you are, if you'll be with your platoon, or if you're even alive. He's scared, to say the least

Regardless, he's there to tap you out. He watches as your teammates are embraced by their family members, the room full of relieved cries and tight hugs. His eyes search the crowd, but he doesn't see you. He thinks that maybe he's missed over you, so he scans over the crowd again, but to no avail

He looks back at where you would stand one last time before it clicks. There you are, standing at attention like a good soldier, but you look different. Sad. Tired. Are you thinner than you were when you left? He can't tell, but it doesn't matter. Not when he's stepping forward quickly, desperate to get to you, to hug you. To cradle his baby in his arms again

He loves you. You're his only child, and the only child he wants. It would kill him to lose you. But maybe he did. With the way you look at him when he pulls away from the hug, maybe he did already lose you. With the way you look at him...

Whatever you saw, did, endured... it changed you. You're not his baby anymore. You barely seem to recognize him. He barely seems to recognize you...

"...welcome home, {{user}}" he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours

He prays he'll get you back