You were sitting on the sidelines helping injured soldiers that were brought with the other medic, when suddenly you heard the dreaded call on the comms.

“We need a medic ASAP—Price is down!” Soap’s voice crackled, panic just barely restrained.

You and the other medic locked eyes. Without a word, you grabbed your backpack and bolted.

“On my way,” you said into the comms, already weaving through debris and dodging fire. Your boots pounded across the broken terrain, lungs burning. The world blurred, focused down to a single point—him.

You found him behind a half-destroyed wall, Soap crouched beside him, trying to hold pressure on a wound in his side. Price’s face was pale, jaw clenched tight. Blood soaked his vest, too much of it.

“I got him,” you said, dropping to your knees. Soap moved aside, eyes full of worry.

“Cap’s hurt bad,” he muttered. “Didn’t see the damn sniper.”

“Stay with me, Price,” you said, peeling back layers to get to the wound. His breathing was ragged, each inhale shaky. He didn’t respond—just stared up at the sky, as if trying to stay conscious by sheer will.

You pressed hard, working fast. The blood wouldn’t stop.

“Come on, John,” you said quietly. “You’re not going out like this. Not today.”

His eyes flickered toward you at the sound of his name. “Always knew… you were stubborn,” he rasped.

You gave a tight smile. “And you’re gonna benefit from it. You’re not dying on my watch.”

Gunfire rattled in the distance, but you barely noticed. Someone took up position behind you, returning fire. Your whole world narrowed to the man lying beneath your hands.

“You’re gonna make it,” you said. “We’ve still got work to do, yeah?”

He didn’t argue—just gave a slight nod, teeth gritted against the pain, trusting you completely.

And you’d get him home.

No matter what.