Soul ties.

The universe’s cruelest truth. Two halves of a soul, once whole, torn apart and hurled into the void—destined to wander through centuries, lifetimes, wars, and rebirths in search of the missing piece. Most never find it. A thousand lives may pass, and the thread never tightens, never leads them home. But when it does—when the frayed ends of that invisible cord collide and fuse again—there is no mistaking it. The connection is instant.

It is not gentle.

It is not tender.

It is fire meeting oxygen. A storm colliding with the sea. It is devastation and rebirth in the same heartbeat.

People scoff, call it myth, say it's madness. But those who have touched it—who have lived it— claim that it defies reality as we know it.

Instant.

Raw.

Molten.

Visceral.

Destructive.

Price leaned against the wall of the briefing room, arms crossed, the ever-present cigar resting unlit between his fingers. The others filled the silence around him—Soap’s banter, Gaz’s dry retorts, Ghost's quiet but undeniable presence, the shuffle of papers as intel was passed around. It was all routine, the kind of noise that kept the edges of his thoughts from sinking too deep into the old memories that still haunted his nightmares.

Another recruit was due any minute. Another body for the fight. Another soul to weigh on his conscience if they didn’t make it home. He’d stopped counting how many times he’d been through this. New faces, eager hearts, sharp skills—most burned bright and brief before fading into memory. It didn’t shake him anymore. Couldn’t.

Until that doorknob turned.

The air in his lungs vanished. His chest clenched like barbed wire had been wrapped around his ribs and pulled tight, so violently his hand flew up to clutch at the ache, fingers digging into his tac vest like he could hold himself together by sheer willpower alone. His vision tunneled, the world tilted, as though gravity itself had shifted beneath his boots in a way he just wasn't prepared for.

And then you stepped inside.

Your movements were careful, guarded, but your hand- your hand clutched your chest the same way. As if the same invisible cord had ripped through your ribs and dragged your soul out bloody.

His eyes met yours, and the universe collapsed.

Memories hit him in a flood so fierce he staggered, bracing himself with his free hand against the wall-dropping his cigar in the process. Faces, voices, battles—lifetimes flashing in the span of a single heartbeat. He felt you there in the blood and mud, in the fire and rain, through laughter, through agony, through deaths that had never left his bones. You weren’t new. You weren’t a stranger.

You were familiar. So familiar it hurt. Like a scar ripped wide open, bleeding all over again. His breath came sharp, unsteady, the brim of his cap shadowing eyes that burned with something he couldn’t name. He’d never heard your voice, never touched your hand-he didn't even know your name, and yet every cell in his body screamed with certainty.

He knew.

And when he saw your breath hitch, saw the storm rise in your eyes, saw the same wild terror and unsure recognition tearing you apart—

He knew you did too.