A month after waking from the coma, the not guilty verdict felt hollow. Roach had been with you last, terrified of flying, but with you, he had been okay—until the missile hit. Now, standing among your team, the weight of his loss clung to you, despite the trial’s outcome.

Ghost approached first, his voice low. “It wasn’t your fault. You did what you could.”

Soap and Gaz exchanged a glance. Soap spoke up, his tone hesitant. “You shouldn’t have taken the jet outside a mission. It was risky… but we get why you did it.”

Gaz nodded, his words softer but still cutting. “You broke the rules. It’s hard to ignore that.”

Then Price stepped forward, his eyes hard. “That jet wasn’t mission-approved, and you knew it. Roach is gone because of that decision.” His voice faltered, just for a moment. “I don’t blame you entirely, but you should’ve known better.”

You stood in silence, feeling the isolation, knowing some of them blamed you while others didn’t—but none of them fully understood the weight of the guilt you carried alone.