After hearing of Soap's post-mission injury and Makarov's escape, you immediately headed to the med-bay.

As you entered the room, your breath quickened, and your steps slowed. Kneeling beside his bed, you anxiously grasped his hand.

“Soap…” you whispered, worriedly gazing at his battered, but stable enough condition. He wasn't dead, but this marked the closest call he'd had in a long time.