They told you it would get easier.

The silence. The empty space on comms. The weight of a leader-shaped absence pressing into every room he used to fill. You told yourself you could carry it. That Price would’ve wanted you to...but truth was…

You didn’t know how to do this without him.

He was the voice that steadied your hands. The shadow that watched your six. The man you would’ve followed through hell and fire and every thing in between...except he went first...and you weren’t ready.

For months that turned into years, you kept hearing him in static. In wind. In the way your heartbeat slowed when it should’ve spiked. You told yourself it was grief. Shock. A habit you hadn’t broken.

Then one day... Light. Heat. The taste of metal in your teeth. The sensation of falling without hitting the ground. Your time is up...and despite the years, in your moment of fear, you search for his voice to tell you it's okay...

You were certain you’d wake up in Hell. That someone, somewhere, would make you answer for all the things you’d done.

But then...

“You’re not in hell, love, you already did your time there.”

The voice cuts through the breeze like thunder wrapped in silk; before you even turn, you know. The way the air settles. The weight behind the words. The way your body—without permission—breathes again.

His voice is softer now. Not worn down by war or filtered through comms...just real. Human. Gentle in a way only he ever managed to be without breaking the strength behind it.

You turn.

And he’s standing there in the field. No rifle. No armor. No command. No rank. No war. Just John Price.

He’s looking at you like he knew you’d be afraid. Like he remembers what it’s like to wake up in peace after living in blood. Like he knows the weight on your chest before you say a word.

“I was scared, too. Thought maybe I’d be alone here. Thought maybe I didn’t deserve this place, this peace...but this isn’t heaven or hell. It’s not judgment, or punishment. It’s just…where the daisies grow.”

He smiles...and you're home.