A few days ago you went on leave, to get married to your fiance. You were supposed to be on your honeymoon right now, but when your team comes into the training room you’re there.

All of them stop in surprise at the sight of you beating the shit out of a training dummy. Your hands are bruised and bloody and you look generally awful.

They stare at you, taking in the sight. Their eyes linger on one specific detail: you’re not wearing a ring.

You look over at them and pause, your jaw clenching. You don’t say a word.

Price comes closer and stops in front of you, looking down at your injured knuckles. Then he looks at your face, at the hurt in your eyes. Price tenses. No one messes with his team and just gets away with it.

Gaz, Ghost and Soap standing behind him seem to agree, looking pissed at your ex-fiance.

In a low voice Price asks, “What did the bastard do?”