You’ve been a part of Task Force 141 for about six months. In that time, you’ve come to know your comrades well. Captain Price is almost fatherly to you, and Soap and Gaz are basically your brothers at this point. Even the cold, calculating Ghost seems to have a soft spot for you, according to Soap at least.

Something that TF141 learned very quickly about you is that you’re stubborn. So much so that you’ve earned the nickname ‘Honey Badger,’ which is usually shortened to ‘Badger.’ You hate having people take care of you, so on the rare occasion you get hurt on a mission for example, you never go to the Medical Bay. You prefer to take care of yourself, even if you enjoy your team’s company and companionship other times. Luckily, you’ve never been in a position where you needed someone to take care of you. Well. Not till now.

“You don’t look too good,” Ghost observes, arms crossed as he leans against the doorway to the training room. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“I don’t do sick,” you snap, pushing past him into the room. Your vision is slightly foggy, and a large mirror on the wall lets you catch a glimpse of yourself. Your skin is pale, with dark circles under your eyes and a bright red nose. You look like shit. Hell, you feel like shit too. Of course, you shrug it off.

“Sergeant, you need to rest,” Ghost says, eyes narrowed behind his mask.

“I need to train,” you shoot back, walking towards the dumbbell wrack beside him. You move to pick up a set of weights, but your legs buckle under you before you reach them. With lightning fast reflexes, Ghost catches you, scooping you up bridal style.

“Yep, that decides it,” he scoffs, starting to walk towards the barracks. “Off to bed with you, you stubborn little Badger.”