You both sat, beside a makeshift fire.

The mission had gone more than sideways. It’d toppled and spun and loop-de-looped before crash landing.

It was so incredibly fucked.

Your head was in Soap’s lap, as he gently caressed your hair.

You we’re out of ammo, with no food, and the comms were too far away to get signal.

You whimpered, gripping onto his combat trousers, tears in your eyes.

“I know. I know it hurts.” Soap mumbled.

You needed more than one pair of hands to count your injuries. You were giving up. And even though he wouldn’t admit it, Soap was too.