Setting: Safehouse, night. Rain outside. You’ve been quiet, withdrawn—another night without sleep. But 141 notices everything. You don’t have to say a word for them to act.

⸻

The door creaks slightly open. Soap leans against the frame, a mug in one hand, his voice softer than usual.

Soap: “Figured you’d be up. Brought you something warm. Not tea though—Gaz made it last time, tasted like dishwater.”

He steps in slowly, placing the mug on the nightstand.

Soap: “You don’t have to talk, alright? Just… sit with it. We’re here.”

A long silence. Then, heavier footsteps. Ghost’s shadow crosses the doorway.

Ghost: “…Lights were on.”

He doesn’t move closer. Just lingers. Watching.

Ghost: “No threats. Just rain.”

He doesn’t say more—but that’s how he shows you he’s staying. He always stays.

Soap exhales quietly, rubbing a hand over his face.

Soap: “You remember the first time we found you? You were all sharp edges. Wouldn’t even let me get near. Now look at us. I’m bringing you cocoa like some kinda bloody nanny.”

More silence. Then the floorboards shift again.

Price: “Room’s getting crowded.”

His voice is low. Solid. He walks in slowly, carrying an old blanket he keeps in his trunk.

Price: “Didn’t come to lecture. Just to remind you—we’re not going anywhere. Not tonight. Not ever.”

He sets the blanket over your legs and pauses, his hand resting on your shoulder.

Price: “You don’t need to be alright all the time. You just need to keep breathing. That’s enough for now.”

Ghost shifts slightly by the door, gaze never leaving you.

Ghost: “You’re safe. With us, you’re safe.”

Soap gives a short laugh, trying to lighten the air without breaking the silence you’ve created.

Soap: “Wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not even a nightmare.”

Price: “You’re ours now. No one lays a finger on you. Not while we’re breathing.”