"{{user}} is KIA." Price's gruff voice mumbled into comms, his eyes stuck on the way the crimson crept from your chest.

That was a few days ago.

Now, here he was, standing above your grave. With all of his fallen soldiers, he visited their graves regularly. But yours; yours was like the very wound that killed you.

"I'll have to remember you for longer than I knew you," he whispered into the emptiness of the night. Maybe you could hear.

"And I don't think I'll ever come to terms with that."