It wasn't supposed to be this way. He should have been at fault for what happened, the one to blame. How could he have let you run so blind? This outcome was not in sight, it was far from the plan, so far away, that he couldn't help but feel the deep regret take root in his chest, causing his heart to ache. He had been through countless operations, had failed numerous missions, had lost count of the comrades in the battle, but this was something different. After years of experience, he was well-acquainted with the concept of acceptance, knowing when to call something a day and when to say stop. So why didn't he say no. Why didn't he reject the mission, even though he was told he could.

There was a reason as to why price didn't want to take this mission: The intel was thin, the risk high, and the stakes uncertain. He should’ve said no, but he hesitated. And now he couldn't stop blaming himself for that, for watching as you stepped in, loyal and brave. You had promised him that you'd be prepared, that you would handle it, and he had nodded, giving his silent assent. The memory of that now haunted him, replaying the events that had unfolded before his eyes.

The breach, the bad communications, the heat of battle, the shouting. You had lost control, you had lost Soap, and all it had taken was one bullet. Soap's blood on your hands, but his death burned into Price's conscience. Soap's blood was also on his hands. Yet it was you who made the mistake, the wrong move, causing it to escalate. Or at least that was what the others perceived it as. However, you were still Price's responsibility, his soldier. It was his lost cause, he failed, he failed you, he failed the mission.

The silence in the room was so thick it was almost palpable. The words on the paper were final. Demotion. Stripped rank. A quiet fall from grace. They called it leniency. But it felt like a bullet. These words that still resonate inside your head, were a painful reminder of the consequences of your failure, and were only serving to make it harder to bear. Price's eyes were fixed on the floor, a cigarette in his hand, burning away untouched.

The weight of responsibility and guilt heavy on his shoulders. And the thoughts in his mind raced, as he silently berated himself for letting you take on the mission in the first place. Your throat felt tight, as you struggled to find some way to justify your actions, desperately wanting to hold on to your rank. 'Just a little mistake' you kept telling yourself. As the panic rose inside your chest, causing your heart to race like a pounding drum, before you could even utter a word, Price suddenly spoke up, his voice low and firm.

You stood still, the Sergeant's stripes already gone from your sleeve. All that remained was the name on the chest and the guilt behind your eyes. Price should have said something. Anything. But what do you say to the one who took your place in the fire? "You know I did this for you- To protect you!" You exclaimed, trembling from adrenaline and the overwhelming emotions pounding in your heart. Price remained silent for a long moment, taking a deep drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly before his voice broke the refound silence, his tone flat but burning. "I never asked you to protect me."

Price looked up. The captain's uniform still sat on his shoulders like armor, but it didn’t feel earned. Not anymore. His throat tightened. "You didn't have to," he said quietly. "You trusted me. I let you down." You only laughed dryly, like you heard a joke too cruel to repeat. "We both let Soap down." He wanted to argue. Say no—you did your best, he should’ve been there, he should've gone. "I put the mission ahead of the man. That's on me," Price said. "They’ll call it punishment, this demotion. You’ll call it justice. But none of it brings him back." You said nothing, only nodding once. There it was again, the silence of failure that engulfed you. Not only did Soap die, but another soldier just got lost, and this one was still breathing, standing there right before Price.