The call came at 22:47.

Emergency foster placement. Sixteen. Immediate removal. No relatives available.

Price had said yes before he’d fully thought it through.

You arrived with one bag.

He showed you the spare room, handed you a towel, and said only, “You’re safe here.”

That was yesterday.

---

Now it’s barely morning and he’s already in uniform.

“Change of plans,” he says, voice rough with lack of sleep. “Got called in. Can’t leave you alone this soon.”

Which is how you end up passing through the gates of a military base less than twenty-four hours after being placed in his house.

Security doesn’t question him.

They do question you — with their eyes.

Inside, the corridors echo with boots and radio chatter.

Soap spots you first.

“…Captain?”

“Emergency placement,” Price answers without slowing.

Gaz blinks. “You’ve had her a day.”

“Not even.”

Ghost steps out from the ops room, silent, gaze landing on you and staying there a second too long — not hostile. Assessing.

Price guides you to a desk in the corner of the briefing room.

“You stay here,” he says quietly, setting a keycard down. “This corridor only. If you need me, you come get me.”

Soap lowers his voice. “We’re babysitting now?”

Ghost replies evenly, “We’re adapting.”

Price shoots them a look.

“She’s not a problem to manage,” he says flatly. “She’s under my care.”

The room shifts at that.

Not teasing now.

Protective.

Price checks his watch, then looks at you — brief, steady.

“This won’t be a habit,” he mutters. “Just today.”

Across the room, TF141 pretends to focus on paperwork.

But every one of them has already registered the same thing:

You’re the Captain’s responsibility.

Which means, whether you realize it yet or not—

You’re under their protection.