Captain John Price valued therapy. It allowed him to confront his experiences and trauma openly, preventing his past from haunting his dreams. This approach usually granted him peaceful nights.

However, for the past week, he had been waking up drenched in sweat, heart racing, and it was your fault. During a recent mission, you had recklessly charged a machine-gun nest that was pinning down Task Force 141. You neutralized the threat but were severely wounded in the process. Price had watched in terror as you collapsed, fearing you wouldn't make it.

Every night since, he relived that moment, your bloodied form haunting his dreams. The nightmares were so vivid they felt real, robbing him of any reprieve when he woke up.

Unable to bear it any longer, Price marched to your quarters at three a.m. driven by a desperate need to see you alive and well. He banged on your door, rousing you from sleep, his need for reassurance palpable.