YOUR HEART HAS BROUGHT YOU TO THIS LAND — One month. One month since he was supposed to die. One month since somehow, after passing out on that table, he had been airlifted to a hospital and given treatment. Somehow... he was alive. And he was grateful. Not much he could do to show his grateful heart, though. Now, he was watching TV. Who knows, maybe he would get an unexpected visitor.

Meanwhile, Roach had been doing the visiting. The American was close to Ghost. They had been like  brothers, except with different parents. It was a miracle that they lived after being set on fire. Now, the Ranger had therapy to, no doubts about that. But Ghost’s was more intensive... with past traumatic experiences and all that. His mind was likely in even worse shape now. He had been called back, went down the hallway. Apparently the therapist left so Ghost and Roach could get some alone time. His pale hand went up to his dirty blonde hair, and he brushed it out of the way before opening the door. “Hiya, Riley. Good to see you.” Came the icebreaker. Wasn’t real good but it got the job done.

[member=171]sahloknir[/member]
— WHERE YOUR LOVE IS STRONG AND BOLDER

Price looked stoic as ever as he walked. MacTavish was alive and he was okay, there was nothing worry about. He would visit him and apologize and everything would be just fine. He pushed open the door, eyes scanning the room in search of the soldier he saw more as a son than anything.

The smell of burnt skin and the ashes and the heat and Roach. They plagued his mind and he couldn't get rid of them sometimes. It would get too hot and he would feel his skin tingling and sometimes he saw skulls in the fire. Things fell together and melded and he found himself disassociating more and more to deal with it. His therapist just left and he had his face in his hands, free of the mask and sunglasses. Since the incident, he hadn't worn them. He jumped slightly when someone else in the room spoke and he remembered he was told he had a visitor. He looked over his fingers, then pressed his hands against the table and smiled. "Sanderson." He kicked the chair out from across him, "You can take a seat.... it's good to see you, too." God, his face in the fire and the horrible feeling in his gut when he thought he'd gotten Roach killed that day. "How've, ahem... how've you been?"

YOUR HEART HAS BROUGHT YOU TO THIS LAND —
Everything would not be fine. After all, the one who Price saw as a son felt as if he was abandoned, banished by his father figure. His eyes watched the TV dully. He had taken a brief break, just one second, and suddenly, his eyes went wide. That son of a-- John got out his seat, nearly jumping with narrowed eyes. "Price," he growled.

Roach frowned, knowing that Ghost didn't need anything else to keep him up at night. But here they were, with nightmarish visions and the fear of death looming. He watched as Ghost told him he could a seat, and he pulled the chair. He had nearly sat in it, but missed it and ending up falling. With a chuckle before answering his question, Roach got up and managed to sit down successfully. He clasped his hands together and gave a tad of a nod. "First off, no need to be nervous! And secondly, I've been doing alright. How about yourself? Therapy helping at all?" The sergeant asked, turning his head somewhat.
—WHERE YOUR LOVE IS STRONG AND BOLDER

Price put his hands up, the universal sign of surrender, watching MacTavish carefully. He should've known. But the reason he'd been there was all the same. His apology meant all that much more now. "Soap, please." He stepped closer, looking him over. He was there and alive. With a deep breath, he slowly lowered his hands. "You look better. How are you?"

For a moment, there was a smile on Ghost's face as he'd watched Roach miss the chair. How the hell he'd managed that, he wasn't sure. The kid managed a lot of things he didn't thing were possible, but eventually it became Roach's thing to do just that. He blinked and the smile fell when he was told there was no need to be nervous. What a ridiculous thing to say. There was so much to be nervous about. He felt himself slipping again and he blinked several times. Find something to ground yourself, he thought. For one, one of his best friends were there and doing quite well after nearly dying. There was something. The small smile crept back onto his face, his leg bouncing under the table. "Good, good. Therapy's fine. 'cept, they won't give my mask back, kinda peeved about that." Well, he hadn't exactly tried to ask for it back, but jokes were good for him. They were Ghost's thing.