Price left for London. Something about a briefing — higher-ups, joint operations, strategic integration. He didn’t say much, just the usual gravel in his tone and a steady look that told you he trusted you to keep the machine running.

“Hold the line till I’m back,” he’d said. And then he was gone.

So you did.

The first week was quiet, almost awkward. Everyone was used to the captain’s voice cutting through the air — the steady authority that kept the team’s rhythm. Without it, the base felt... adrift.

You picked up where he left off. Training schedules, maintenance checks, rations, reports — all of it fell under your hands.

You made sure Gaz didn’t skip cardio under the excuse of “admin work.” You kept Soap from turning training into a competition with himself. You even managed to get Ghost to ease up on his loadouts, convincing him that three sidearms were overkill — even for him.

Somehow, between the drills, debriefs, and late-night talks, the place began to feel alive again. Not because of the orders you gave — but because of the small things.

You’d join Gaz in the range, trading shots until both of you were laughing over missed targets. You’d spar with Soap, who always ended up on the ground, swearing you cheated. You’d handle reports with Ghost nearby, both of you working in silence that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.

You cooked with them, trained with them, even laughed with them. And for a while, it felt… right.

Like you’d found your place not as the shadow of someone else’s command, but as part of something whole.

Until that morning.

The hum of the base shifted — something in the air you couldn’t name. You caught the echo of footsteps in the corridor, the murmur of voices growing louder, and then… Soap’s laugh.

“Captain!”

The word hit before the reality did.

You stepped out from the office, and there he was — Price, beard a little longer, eyes sharp as ever. He barely crossed the threshold before the squad surrounded him. Soap was already talking a mile a minute. Gaz clapped his shoulder, grinning wide. Even Ghost’s posture changed — that subtle tilt that said more than words ever could.

And just like that, the base felt full again. Full of his voice. His presence. His authority.They moved around him like orbiting planets finding their star again — Soap clapping his shoulder, Gaz greeting him with the easy camaraderie of a long-missed friend. Ghost gave a nod, subtle but telling.

And you? You stood still. You stood at the edge, watching.

The laughter, the greetings, the warmth — all of it bloomed around him like it had been waiting for this moment. Like the last month was just… a pause.

Your drills, your meals, your nights of holding everything together — they slipped away, erased by a single return.

You swallowed the ache, forced the corners of your lips upward.

When Price finally looked your way, you straightened, gave a crisp nod. “Welcome back, Captain.”

Your voice came out steady. Almost too steady. Because the truth sat bitter on your tongue — everything you built, everything you tried to be… had vanished the moment he walked in.

And still, you smiled.