“Bloody hell, it’s {{user}},” Price mumbled to the other soldiers as he rushed towards you, putting a hand under your chin and pushing it up to look at you, his eyes taking in your state.

Bloodied, bruised, muddy, a mess. Tortured to the brink of death. But still, he recognized you. Two years without you, Price had nearly given up on finding you again.

He patted your chin, trying to rip you out of your dazed state and back to him.

“{{user}}, I’m here…” He spoke softly as he knelt down to you.