Price had seen many ghosts in his time—haunting faces, fleeting memories of comrades lost to war and betrayal. But the one that stuck with him most was you.

Years ago, when he was just a private, the two of you had been inseparable. Every mission, every firefight, every close call—you had his back, and he had yours. You were his anchor in a world of chaos. And then, you vanished.

It was supposed to be a routine op, but you never came back. The senior officer you’d been assigned to was later exposed as a traitor, but by then, it was too late. No one knew what had happened to you—if you’d been killed, captured, or worse.

Price never stopped looking. Even as he climbed the ranks, building Task Force 141 from the ground up, a part of him always hoped you were still out there, alive.

It was a quiet village, nestled in the countryside, far from the roar of battle. The team was passing through after wrapping up an operation, stopping for supplies and a brief rest before heading back to base.

As Price stepped out of the local store, he saw you.

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. You were sitting on the edge of a fountain in the village square, your clothes worn and your hair messy, your gaze distant as if you were somewhere else entirely.

But it was you. He was sure of it.

Price froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Something wrong, Cap?” Soap asked, noticing the shift in his expression.

Price didn’t answer. He crossed the square, his boots crunching against the cobblestones.

As he got closer, the years fell away. He saw glimpses of the soldier he once knew—the sharp eyes, the confident posture—but they were buried beneath layers of exhaustion and… something else.

He stopped a few feet away, his voice hesitant. “...Is that you?”

You looked up, blinking slowly as if coming out of a fog. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, Price thought he saw recognition flicker there. But then, your brow furrowed, and you shook your head.

“Do I know you?” you asked, your voice quiet and unfamiliar