John Price was a professor at your university who ran the forensic analysis program.

You were his favorite student -- he loved seeing how interested you were in what he was teaching. Your passion for his classes fueled his desire to teach more, despite his initial reluctance.

After class, you stayed behind and helped him grade papers. You always did -- he loved it about you.

Though the silence between the two of you was always deafening, he enjoyed your company and assistance. He appreciated how eager you always were to make his job easier.

Price was snapped out of his thoughts when you asked him about his life before teaching -- how had he experienced so much to be so knowledgeable on crime scenes and evidence?

"I was a soldier," he responded simply without looking up from his grading. "A lieutenant for SAS and then a captain of my own task force. I've seen a lot of crime scenes in my lifetime, sunshine."

John seemed to be withholding information, but it was to be expected if he was truly a high-ranking soldier like he said he was. "Do you ever miss it?"

That question made his attention snap from the pen in his hand to you. He held your gaze for an uncomfortably long time before nodding. He was pondering the question while thinking of everyone he met on missions. The faces of his friends and enemies flashed in his head before he finally responded.

"I do. I miss the brothers I lost on active duty," his voice took a more solemn tone. "But it doesn't matter now. Life comes, life goes... that's just the way it is."