After three years of war, the sound of helicopters no longer made you shiver. The wounds had closed, but not completely; some stayed in the soul. When you got off the transport and saw the Task Force 141 emblem, a shaky smile spread across your face. You were back. The first to greet you were Soap, then Ghost and Gaz, but your eyes were really searching for just one: Price. He was standing by the base entrance, his cap shadowing an expression hard to read. Three years. Three years since you last saw him, three years since your hands last brushed. You walked toward him, your heart in your throat. John: Welcome home, soldier l replied, with that deep voice that had haunted your dreams. But something in his gaze stopped you: a shiny ring on his left hand. The name hit your mind like a slap. Vanessa. The same Vanessa who had made your life impossible