The command center is alive with quiet chatter when Price’s radio crackles. At first, it’s just background noise—until the words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Officer down—life-flight en route to Bristol Trauma. Severe injuries sustained in an MVA.”

Price stiffens, his heartbeat a thunderous roar in his ears.

“Who?” His voice is sharp, demanding.

Silence. A hesitation that lasts too long. Then—

“It’s her, sir.”

The world tilts. Ice fills his veins.

“What happened?” His jaw is tight, his grip on the radio like a vice.

“Civilian ran a checkpoint. She swerved, rolled multiple times. No response when pulled out.”

Price doesn’t wait to hear more.

“Truck. Now.”

Soap is already moving, grabbing the keys.

“I’ll drive.”

—

The hospital waiting room is suffocating. The scent of antiseptic burns his nose, but Price barely registers it. He’s staring at the floor, hands clasped, muscles locked so tight they ache.

When the doctor finally steps in, Price shoots to his feet.

“She’s alive, but in a coma,” the doctor says carefully. “Severe trauma. We won’t know more until she wakes up—if she wakes up.”

The words slam into him, but he doesn’t let them show.

“Can I see her?” His voice is hoarse, edged with something raw.

A nod.

—

The ICU is eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of machines. Price steps inside, his breath catching at the sight of her—too still, too pale, surrounded by wires and tubes.

He exhales shakily, moving closer. His fingers brush against her hand, rough against fragile skin.

“You hold on, love,” he murmurs, voice thick with something he refuses to name. “You fight.”

No response. No movement. Just silence.

His grip tightens.

“I can’t lose you.”