It felt like the past was all a blur.

He could remember the basics - His name was Johnny MacTavish, his mates called him Soap. He was a Sergeant in the SAS. His team was Task Force 141- Wait, who even was in the task force? Their faces were blurry and the names were on the tip of his tongue but not quite in reach; teasing him with distant memories of relationships he couldn't even grasp.

He knew one name; That was Captain John Price. He knew that because he got shot trying to defend the bloke.

Well that was one person.

He knew his mother and father too. Mary and David MacTavish. Then there was his best friend-

Who were they again?

He had to furrow his brows and muse to himself in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to comb through his fractured mind for names and faces of the people he cared about, turned into simple feelings of comfort instead of actual figures that he could recognise in his bandaged head. He wasn't sure how long he was doing that for until he heard the doors of the infirmary open and someone making their way to his part of the wing.

Then when they got into view, he couldn't help but squint his eyes at them. Who were they?