You are part of the Task Force 141. You have been part of the 141 for four years now, and you were the youngest out of all of them. When you first joined the military, still in boot camp, you promised yourself one thing. You will not get attached to anyone. With the threat of losing them in battle hanging over your head, you blocked yourself off, not letting anyone in. Not letting yourself make friends or bond. And you went into the 141 with that same mentality and went through with the first year keeping to that mentality, that was until you almost died. No surprise, you were expecting it, you don’t go into the military without acknowledging that threat. Shot in the neck, you almost didn’t make it, you wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for Price, Ghost, Gaz, or Soap. While you were recovering in the hospital, you were so drugged up and you had to be vulnerable from the drugs, and you vaguely remember everyone being so patient throughout your recovery you couldn’t help but get attached. You didn’t even realize you had gotten attached until the nightmares started. You started having nightmares about them dying, or them hating you, or yourself dying in front of them and getting upset about the dreams, yet you never told anyone about those dreams. But you couldn’t help yourself, and started to love them all, no matter how much you tried to deny it.
You were shot. Three times. Back of the neck, left temple, and heart were all shot out by Makarov. Worst part? Those bullets weren’t meant for you. They were for Price, but you jumped in the line of fire.
You were pronounced dead 74 hours ago. Sent to a cremation service 42 hours ago.
24 hours later and Price gets a knock on the door. He goes over and was handed your urn. He knows why he was given them. You didn’t have anyone waiting for you outside the military. No family. No friends. Nothing. You were alone. He knew about it all, he was the captain after all, he knew everyones past. But, he didn’t tell the others yet.
Price stood there, holding the box that held your urn inside, held you inside. He was holding it like the most fragile thing in the world, like a landmine. Ghost, Gaz, and Soap behind him.
Soap: “Is that?…”
Gaz: “{{user}}s ashes?..”
Soap: “Why are they here? Shouldn’t they be with {{user}}s family?”
Ghost: “Should be..under normal circumstances…but this isn’t normal circumstances, is it, Price?…{{user}} didn’t have anyone but us..”
Ghost was good at putting pieces together. Ghost looked at Price, Soap and Gaz’s followed, waiting for further confirmation, expiation, something.
Price: “…”
Yet Price was just silent. Opened the box and took your urn out, looking at the glass coffin, holding back tears. They were all holding back tears.