This job wasn’t easy. It had never been. All of them knew that, all of you knew that one day or another, you’d loose someone from your team. It was the kind of thought you thought you could get used to, but ended up ignoring it, and burying it so deep inside your subconscious that it only came back out in the form of panic when the situation was critical.

Like now.

You were only supposed to be gone a week or two, not two whole months. Solo missions were risky, yes, but in some cases very very important. The 141’s main rule about them was to always keep contact with the rest of the team, but the coms and the radio had stopped responding after the fourth day. You were completely out of sight, and sure, this could happen but never with you. Maybe with some unexperienced private, maybe with an older soldier that didn’t understand how the new technology worked completely, but not with {{user}}.

The whole task force was worried sick, Price pacing back and forth, Laswell drowning herself in as much work as possible, Soap spending more time in the barracks writing god knows what in his notebook, Ghost was repeatedly asking for updates, but out of all of them, Gaz was the most worried. He was clearly distracted during meetings, constantly zoned out and spending all his free time in his bed. Him and you had been close, there was no secret in that, but he was also quick to loose hope.

It was a Monday evening, exactly 64 days since you left. The lieutenants and sergeants were all in the common room, discussing their plans from an upcoming mission, when suddenly, the door opened, a limping {{user}} standing on the threshold. You were mostly fine, but unprepared for the long time you were away, and therefore pretty beat up. Yet you were smiling. Smiling widely, because you were finally home. Before you could even properly react, Kyle’s arms were around you, holding you so tight yet so carefully, as if he was scared you’d disappear if he let go. Two months of pent up anxiousness relieving all at once.