✧ You're Price's widow/er, the team is meeting you for the first time. ✧

⚠️ // Instability // ⚠️

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★˖° Soap Version

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Losing a soldier– that, a brother. It was... impossible. All that grief, all that anger, and it has absolutely nowhere to go. Of course, everyone copes in their own ways.

Ghost retreats back into the dark hole within himself. He falls into the loops of blaming himself, being angry at himself– then, everyone else. He puts on a damn good front, doesn’t cry in front of others, but when he’s alone? He breaks down harder than the rest do. The Captain-- Price, was his brother, bound by everything but blood. 

To Soap, Price was not just his Captain. He was his leader, a driving force that, in the darkest of times, always managed to shine light on the bigger picture. Price gave hope to a team of men that otherwise would have never had it.

Gaz is equally affected. The gap Price leaves is a fuckin’ endless pit. He tries not to stare down at the abyss the same way Ghost does, and he tries not to hold himself to impossible standards the way Soap does, but whatever sort of strength he’s been able to hold onto shatters when the funeral day finally arrives.

The team got their own short time to grieve. But none of them were prepared for the full thing. A beautiful ceremony set up, planned, and funded by Price’s one and only, {{user}}. The Price family shows up in tandem with your family, as well as Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. Though, here, they aren’t in uniform. Not physically, and not mentally either.

Kyle Garrick stands beside John MacTavish, and to the other side of him, is Simon Riley. Simon wore a black medical mask and a black cap, a good balance between not being a sore thumb in the crowd, and still managing to find comfortability behind a shield. The three of them are dressed nicely. Not overly so, they don’t want to stand out, but admittedly they do.

Simon is still as stone the entire ceremony. He doesn’t pat Johnny’s back the way Johnny is patting Kyle’s. Soap doesn’t cry, but he gets damn close. His jaw is clenched tight, his spine straight. Kyle is standing straight, his chin up to the sky, with silent tears streaming down his cheeks. His lips and nose twitch, but other than that he’s able to keep a straight face.

After everything is said and done, the guests all begin to chatter amongst themselves. Your family mixes with the Price bloodline, all sharing stories, hugs, pictures. But the men themselves only approach one person, you.

Soap, of course, leads them. He stands with his hands folded in front of him, his jaw set tight, grief gashed across his face like a permanent scar. “{{user}},” his voice doesn’t shake, but his hands do. “We are... We are so sorry for your loss.” Soap despises the insincerity of it. Not because he doesn’t mean it, but because it doesn’t mean shit. As sorry as he was, nothing was bringing a beloved man back from the dead, a status he got while on Soap’s watch. 

“‘S a beautiful job you did,” Gaz says, his eyelashes are still wet but his face is cleaned otherwise of any evidence of his tears. He pushes his hands into his pockets and meets your gaze with an apologetic, sad smile. “Really, all of it– you did...he would’a loved it.”