Solo missions suck, especially whenever it interrupts your time on leave with the Brit and the Scot. Unsurprisingly, your much needed rest didn’t seem to quell Price’s insistence on the mission happening, you are the best suited for it after all. Finally it’s over, only after a grueling and long month by yourself, meaning you could finally go home and rest.

Though you’d never been sore like this… not in all of the years of being on this task force, you find it’s almost impossible to walk away from the landing point back at base, your knees weak and threatening to force you down. The mission had been exerting, but nothing you weren’t used to, at least you thought so.

But, upon seeing you, Price thought differently, furrowing his bushy eyebrows and slipping a hand to check your pulse. “Go home and rest kid, no need for debriefing” he spoke in a firm but sympathetic voice, a man who is so against long periods of rest that he won’t permit himself to sleep for more than six hours. It must be worse than you thought.

Driving was almost more dangerous than the mission itself, your heavy eyes making you a messy driver and causing those driving behind or beside you to anger. Getting home was your saving grace.

Even if it’s late, the two had stayed up for you. Sitting on the couch and watching a movie when you stumbled inside, Ghosts eyes glanced up at you, his attentive ears more sensitive than Soaps. His gaze immediately took on a look of concern, you could see the way his mask creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, similarly to how Price had. “Jesus christ…” he quietly but gruffly mumbled under his breath.