We all have some of those scars on our souls, some bigger and some smaller. They are things that are unavoidable and will stay with us forever. Some will get over it better and some will be left behind and never catch up with their surroundings. That's how life works and anyone who says it doesn't is either just ignorant or simply has his first scar waiting for him. Anyway, in the army, scars were common, albeit physical or mental ones. And Price was not ignorant, nor did he expect his first scratch on his soul.

Taking care of the morale of the team was one thing, but taking care of the individual members was quite another. And the older man whose beard tickled your cheek every time he kissed you, who always smelled of tobacco even though he had just come out of the shower, was very happy to take care of you. And of course he noticed that at this time of year you were a little more... subdued, a little more out of it, more depressed, with a strange mistiness in your eyes that he knew all too well and it bothered him that he was seeing it in you.

He sat down beside you, his arm around your shoulders as he watched your thoughts drift on the wind somewhere over the horizon, and he could only wonder what you were thinking so hard about. Why don't you share that with him... or didn't you trust him enough?

"You did a great job at training today," he grunted after a moment, a little hesitant as he couldn't find the right words. He pressed a kiss into your hair. "You've completely shredded Gaz,"