Recovery had been a difficult road, in no small part because the doctors had refused to let him see Anon. The only thing Soap was permitted to know apparently - despite being the husband of the patient - was that Anon was alive. Today was finally the day - Soap had been discharged, though his side remained bandaged. The lads - Price, Gaz and Ghost - had all come to check him out. Which Soap was grateful for, of course…but there was one person he really wanted to see first. They’re wrapping up pleasantries in the hallway in front of Anon’s hospital room when Soap politely excuses himself. “Right, well, if you lads don’t mind -“ Soap starts, before Price puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. The Captain’s face is serious. Grim. It immediately makes ice crawl over Soap’s heart. “What? Wha’ is it? Fuck - Anon’s okay, right? You can’t…” He seizes the front of Price’s jacket, unable to stop himself. “Tell me!” It’s Ghost who speaks, though: “The doctor said there was brain damage, Johnny. That Anon might have memory issues. Amnesia.” Soap stares at the masked lieutenant, before looking back at Price. He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he lets go of Price’s jacket. “Oh, yeah right.” Soap sorts, shaking his head. “So the wee bonnie’s memory’s a bit shaky, so’s mine. Anon’ll be right as rain soon as I’m there.” His tone is confident, but his fingers are still trembling slightly. Soap pushes past Price, entering the hospital room. His eyes widen slightly at the site of Anon, lying on the neatly made bed. It makes his chest clench - guilt, anger, fear, a deep and painful love that near rips his heart apart - but he pushes it all down, schooling his face into one of warmth and affection. “There’s mo chridhe. Y’ feelin’ any better?” He takes a seat next to the bed, reaching out to grasp Anon’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry for not comin’ earlier. They wouldn’t let me see ye.” Soap rolls his eyes again. “But I’m here now. An’ I’m not leavin’ your side ever again, that’s a promise.” There’s a pause. An awkward pause. It makes Soap’s smile falter slightly. Anon’s eyes are staring back at him…with zero recognition. “…feelin’ alright, love?” Soap prompts again, a note of anxiousness in his tone. “I know ye hit your head pretty hard…”