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soaps-hoe-141 · 1 year

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Drowning In The Depths

Not me writing this whole chapter while watching Bob Ross. Oh boy I hope y'all are ready.

Also look at this beautiful piece of art @czigonas was kind enough to make for Corporal Wade! He's so tired! I love it so much!

Part 8

Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader

WC: 20k

Synopsis: Angry price, unhinged Speck/Reader, hurt and comfort, there is a lot of Speck lore being dropped in this chapter honestly

Warnings: Lots of past traumas and panic inbound

The rumbling purr of the van cut off abruptly as your eyes shot open to take in the sight of the men around you already standing up and collecting their gear. Hell even the woman and little boy that y'all had taken from the warehouse were standing up and following close behind the Lieutenant. Everyone moved towards the back doors, all except for you and John, who was sitting perfectly still after you'd fallen over onto his shoulder in the cramped space of the cubby.

Oh shit, you shifted over quickly with wide eyes, rubbing tiredly at your dry eyes as you sat up. When you glanced to your right John was already moving, grabbing his rifle and the vest he'd shed at some point when you'd fallen asleep, not even bothering to look at you. Everyone else had shed their gear as well while you were out cold. You pushed yourself up and unclipped the buckles on your vest as the other men stopped at the back doors waiting for them to unlock. Well all of them except for Watcher who had hopped out of the front.

When the door locks clicked and before anyone could scramble away John spoke loudly, "Debrief at 0800 tomorrow morning, don't be late. And don't make me come hunt you down. You have the rest of the evening to yourselves, spend it wisely, yeah?" His eyes glanced around the men until he got nods from everyone. Though those blue hues never even shifted to you, running right over you like you weren't even there. It made your chest hurt, but it was understandable. Why would he want to look at you? The man couldn't even spend an evening with you without kicking you to the curb. Was this coldness all that surprising?

No, no it wasn't. You definitely deserved it after putting him through yet another moment where he thought he was going to be responsible for your death. Hell you knew all too much about that dreaded responsibility yourself. As the others filed out of the van though John's hand pressed against your chest to stop you from hopping down after them.

His voice growled out then, "Not you," you shot him a quick glance. He still wasn't looking at you, instead he was staring ahead at the group of men and the two newest additions to the growing list of prisoners they were acquiring. Ghost stopped to glance back before John said quickly, "Laswell's waiting for them. Take them to her," the big man nodded and you watched as he led them off towards the main building of the base.

Tension held you in place. Afraid to move for fear you would upset the stillness that seemed to have taken hold of him. When his hand shoved you backwards and he pulled the back doors closed you instinctively caught hold of the handle on Cerberus' vest. The dog sent a dangerous growl up to John but you were quick to quiet him with a, "Pfui." You unclipped his lead, glancing up at the Brit for a moment before you suggested, "Might want to have this altercation away from the dog, John." He barely even glanced down at the Dutchie before his hand was in the strap of your vest and he pushed you back into the small cubby, the false wall latching closed behind him. A whine slid past the panel as Cerberus tried to claw his way inside before you said, "Nein, Cerberus. Platz," a quick pause before continuing, "Bleib."

John was staring down at you now, hand still wrapped around the strap of your vest and you could feel his grip tightening around it. You could see his mind working behind those bright blue eyes as he tried to control himself. His dark beard twitched as his jaw tensed, fighting some kind of internal battle. "What were you thinking? Really." Your brows furrowed at his question. You'd already told him once, besides what did that even mean? "Not some heat of the moment shite we yell at each other because the rest of the team are watching. What was really going through your head, Speck?" Nothing. Everything. How did you even explain that to him?

When you remained silent he only seemed to grow more impatient. Obviously he wanted an answer, and he wanted it now. What were you supposed to say though? What answer did this man in front of you even want? "What was going through your head when you tried to defuse a bomb with local law enforcement on a quick response time to that site? They could have killed you, did that not occur to you? They would have killed you if it weren't for the trackers Watcher has on all of us." Well at least it made sense now how they'd found you in the middle of the city.

Slowly your shoulders lifted in a simple shrug and the man before you laughed cynically. His fist felt almost like it was punching your shoulder as he pushed off of it and stepped back away from you in the small space. It was obvious that was certainly not the answer he was wanting from you. You could hear his internal thoughts now, ‘Seriously Speck? That’s the best you’ve got?’ In truth that was probably where you should have stopped, just let him come up with his own answer, let him think whatever he wanted.

What you said next was definitely not anything better, "Nothing really, John. I saw the bomb. I knew there were a lot of people. I knew that yall were still inside the building and that there were children and mothers inside as well. Hell there were people just out walking on the street below." His eyes were searching yours for sincerity, and when he found it he only seemed to grow more upset. That wasn’t the reaction you had expected to find in his eyes. "I didn't want their blood on my hands too, John. Yalls blood either. So I did what I could. I couldn’t take that guilt again." He shook his head at you, his hand coming up to run over his mouth as he thought to himself.

The man in front of you glanced down at the floor before his eyes shut, head beginning to slowly shake as he smiled with cynicism clear in his expression. "So you see a bomb and not a bloody thing goes through your head?" Your shoulders shrugged again with an added shake of your head before you glanced towards the wall. You couldn't keep looking at him, not while he was leveling that disappointment or whatever the hell it was at you.

"Fucking hell, Speck," he was getting angry again as his hands reached up to latch onto the straps of his own vest probably so he didn’t end up throttling you. John obviously wanted you to say something else but what was there to say? You had made the decision to stay behind. To put your own life in danger to help those who would have probably died otherwise and never even known they were in danger. You’d made the right decision and you knew it, whether John wanted to admit that or not didn’t matter.

He reached up and jerked the bandana off from around his neck, wiping away the sweat that was currently beading up on his forehead. John stared at you in the growing stuffiness of the cargo van. There was exasperation growing in his eyes now, he so desperately wanted you to communicate. To tell him why you had done what you'd done. Hadn't you though? You didn't want people to die. In order to keep people from dying the bomb had to be disarmed. So you, in all your brilliance might you add, had done just that. End of story.

Apparently that wasn't how John felt though. You couldn't tell if it was frustration, annoyance, or just plain rage that was blossoming on his face, probably all of the above. However you did know that annoyance was beginning to bubble up inside of you. Why did he care so much anyway? It wasn't like you'd put him in danger, or his team.

Hell, you'd specifically made sure they'd all gotten out of there, was that not good enough for him? The words spilled out of your mouth before you could even stop them, "Why do you care so much, huh? I didn't put your team in danger, yall got out of the building, I don't see the problem, John." Blue eyes widened at you incredulously before another laugh fell out of him much like the one you'd gotten when he'd interrogated you.

His fists clenched, using the balled up bandana almost like a stress ball to keep himself steady despite the obvious desire he had to blow the hell up at you. The next words he spoke came out in a low growl, "You are a part of my team right now whether you think you do or not. When we're in the field whatever we're doing off of it doesn't matter." Your eyes were glued to the wall again in less than a moment, unable to find his burning blues. Well more like you didn't want to find his eyes. Those words were bringing back too much that you hadn’t dealt with in too long.

Memories rattled around in your mind. This was by far not the first time you'd been yelled at by someone, reprimanded by a superior and verbally reamed, but it had been over eight years since then. Eight years since you’d become Bravo One on your team and then two years since you’d left said teams. God you were getting old now. So no this was not the first time someone had made it their mission to ruin your day.

However, it was one of the first times you'd ever felt like it was personal. Like if it had been Soap that had stayed behind he would have given him a slap on the wrist about disobeying orders and then all would have been fine. Your face was hot with both anger and embarrassment, it was like you were being singled out and you didn’t appreciate being singled out. And unlike when your ex-wife had cursed, screamed, and hit this time it truly started to hit home and hard.

John's hand wrapped around the strap of your vest again in the blink of an eye, jostling you out of your thoughts and dragging your attention back to him. You blinked a couple times as you settled your gaze on his chest. He was closer than he had been a few moments ago. When did he get so close? "Speck?" Your gaze shot up to find him and you noticed the anger that was mostly dissipated now. When had he started to let it go? "Please just talk to me." No.

Your eyes dropped again as you looked away and you heard him sigh from above you. His fingers tightened around the strap of your vest as you muttered, "I don't have anything to say, Captain." You could feel the waves of frustration coming off of him again, and you didn't need to see his eyes to know he was starting to get worked up once more.

Before he was back to the point of being ready to smack you upside the head again he let you go, stepping away and moving towards the latch of the false wall and flipped it up. "Fine," his head shook as he unlatched it and pushed it open. "Don't talk then. Just be at the debriefing at 0800 tomorrow morning. And don't be late." His hand shot out grabbing the rifle from your hand, his glare fixed on you, dark and swirling in those blue pools.

For the first time since you got yourself stuck in here with him you fixed him with that rebellious look. That was before he jerked the pistol out of your thigh holster as well and you looked down at the weapons in his hands, “Go back to your bunk. I don’t want to see you wandering around base tonight,” he growled and then he was gone before you could say anything else. Heading for the cages and the armory so he could drop his things off. Even as he walked away you felt the full force of your fuck up due to your fuck it attitude.

It was that gut-wrenching feeling of knowing when everything had gone so, so very wrong that was currently making you feel like you were going to be sick to your stomach. Cerberus was at your feet again, his nose pressing up into your palm. You were frozen though, you didn't even feel the cold, wetness of it, not until John had disappeared around the corner finally. "Fuck," you muttered to yourself. Eyes shutting for a moment as you forced your racing heart to calm down.

This was your problem. The reason you couldn't allow yourself to get this close. The pain in your stomach and chest was nearly unbearable. You felt too much and you felt too hard, you kept that shit locked up so you didn’t have to deal with it. Not a soul ever deserved to be on the receiving end of that man's disappointment, his frustration. And unlike when your ex-wife had tried to do the same things, to make you feel the same ways, this time you actually cared. It wasn’t just exhaustion flooding you this time around.

This time it hurt more than anything she ever could have tried to manage and John hadn't even had to hit you. He hadn't even had to scream at you for hours and wear you down so completely you were flinching just at the mere thought of someone speaking to you. John had managed to make you feel this simply by being worried about you. Upset that you couldn't bring yourself to tell him about the team you'd lost in nearly the exact same way. About the eight brothers you had lost on that terrible day. The man didn’t even know what he was asking you about and he hit straight at the weakest parts of you.

A sigh left you, Cerberus responded with a quiet whine before you clipped his lead back on and hopped down out of the van. Maybe that last order was just best to follow, huh? It was better than going back to the cages and seeing that disappointment again, watching him react to yet another disobeyed order. ‘I don’t want to see you,’ he’d said. You’d really fucked this one up, and even you could see that.

Just get back to the bunkhouse and sleep all of this shit off, maybe he’d just forget about it by the time the debriefing rolled around tomorrow. “No chance in hell,” you muttered to yourself, that man certainly didn’t seem like the type to forget. He felt more like the type to keep it filed away for a later date when he was ready to deal with it, deal with you. Another sigh left you as you opened the door and stepped inside the room. The bunkhouse was empty. Ghost was still out doing what the Captain had told him to…and Soap probably.

You were quick to let Cerberus off his lead before throwing it up on the table, watching the dog immediately start nudging at the bag of food with his nose. The sigh left you but it wasn’t meant for him, your mind was still rattling around with his expressions, his words. It was driving the very air from your lungs and you had no idea how to even deal with it. No one had ever prepared you for feeling like this. “I know buddy,” you mumbled to him as you opened the bag of food and shoved the bowl inside to scoop some in. When you sat it down at the foot of the bed he dug into his meal.

It’d been a full day since he’d had anything to eat so it wasn’t all that surprising he was so hungry. Hell you should have been hungry too but you were the farthest from it right now. For the first time in a long time your stomach wasn’t growling with need. Your stomach was churning with bile as you sat on the edge of the bed. You swallowed hard and then shoved the sick feeling down in your mind, and took in a few deep breaths trying to settle your thoughts as well.

Pain ached in your limbs and you wished you could say that it was because of the long ass mission you’d just suffered through but it wasn’t the typical muscle aches you were used to. Your skin hurt, pulsed with shots of pain with every wave of emotion that you forced down as it lapped at the shores of your mind. It was something you’d never experienced before. A strange sensation, almost like a physical reaction to the dread in your mind since you refused to let yourself acknowledge it.

Your hands lifted to run through the hair on the side of your head, fingers massaging at your temples for a few moments. Just don’t think about it. Everything will be ok. He’ll forget about it. Maybe. Unlikely. He’s never going to forget about it, idiot. You breathed out another sigh as you stood and pulled your vest off, throwing it into the corner near your duffel. The thigh holster, small pouch that still held the flashbangs and grenades, your ear protection, helmet, and shooting glasses soon followed as you piled the gear in the small space between the wall and the foot of your bed. You’d have to make sure to take it back to Wade tomorrow before he came hunting it down, no need to make him more worried.

Pulling the shirt over your head you tossed it next to the gear. Wade still hadn’t brought the hamper he promised so to the floor it went. You sat on the edge of the bed to unlace your boots hurriedly, kicking them backwards under the gap of the bed. Then you stood again, shucking off the pants and tossed them over with the shirt onto the floor. You didn’t bother with any of the clothes you’d been given. The sooner you went to sleep the sooner this nightmare would end.

But even as you pulled the sheet up to your hip you stared stubbornly at the ceiling. The moon was casting a white glow inside the room with night in full swing. Normally you’d have been able to get to sleep in a matter of seconds, but right now your mind was working overtime in order to keep you stubbornly awake and aware of every little thing moving around you.

Cerberus was laying on his side just beside the bed and you could hear him breathing but he wasn’t yet asleep. Glancing over the side you watched as he lifted his head to look at you before you slid back on the bed and muttered, “Hier, Cerberus.” The Dutchie pushed himself up with a huff of air, like a child who’d just been disturbed in the middle of doing something.

And still he was in the bed with you in the next few seconds. Cerberus circled a few times in front of you before he plopped down heavily on his side and his head found the pillow. Your arms wrapped around the warm torso before you adjusted the sheet over him as well. Sliding forward you buried your face in between his shoulder blades to block out the light from the window. Still it did nothing to help you find your way into the blissful world of dreams.

Thoughts kicked up in your mind like a car stuck in the mud. Messy, loud, and refusing to budge with every fiber of their being. You were so lost to the memories you nearly missed the sound of the door opening. Cerberus’ head lifted off the pillow looking at whoever it was and your arms tightened their hold around him instinctively. The urge to lift up and see who it was found you, but as you went to move your exhausted body it changed that desire quickly. Instead you just pressed your body harder into the warmth in front of you, keeping your eyes closed in hopes that sleep would find its footing at some point.

Needless to say, it didn’t. You listened to Ghost’s quiet movements around the room. Heard him stripping out of his clothes, and laying down on his bed. He didn’t fall asleep for a long time but when he did you could hear his deep breaths. It reminded you of Cerberus’ light snores; it was so soft and almost not even there, but you heard it, it was there. When the Dutchie fell asleep beside you as well you knew the night was going to be a long and absolutely terrible one.

------(Price POV)------

He didn’t look up as he threw his gear into the cage, shoving the rifle and pistol he’d given to Speck for the op into Wade’s chest as he stormed by. “You’ll get the rest from him tomorrow,” he grumbled. The sound that came from the blonde man sounded enough like a huff of annoyance that John immediately stopped in his tracks. His angry gaze was on the supply officer in less than a heartbeat. “Is there a problem, Corporal Wade?” The blonde tensed up in a moment as he held the weapons close to his chest.

His light blue eyes shot around the room in search of help or maybe an answer as to why the Captain was so short tempered. Not a soul dared to even meet his eyes though. John took a step closer, standing taller as his head tilted in that way that everyone knew meant to shut the hell up and just do what he said. The blonde shook his head slowly as he averted his eyes from the brunette, “No sir, Captain. Apologies sir,” Price’s jaw twitched as he watched the Corporal take a quick step back and about face before basically running to disappear through the armory door.

The Captain watched him go with a dark look, standing in place until the door had shut behind him. A second longer of staring and he pulled open the door of his cage with a shake of his head. He organized his gear back into their respective bins, his guns going into their cases before he closed them up. It took him all of five minutes to put his things away, in more of a rush to get out of there than anyone had ever seen him in before. Frustration and anger still pulsed in the back of his mind from his talk with that bloody American.

Normally he would have stuck around to clean everything but with his jaw working overtime, the muscle sore and yet still tensed, he knew he needed to get away. He headed straight across the base. Fuck the mess hall, fuck a shower, fuck changing clothes. Price needed a cigar, a bourbon, and some nice peace and fuckin quiet to chill the fuck out before he actually ended up hurting someone.

The squad room was dark and quiet as he entered, but he didn’t bother with the lightswitch. Just stepped around the couch like it was instinct and opened the door to his office. He clicked the lock into place on his door before he sat down in his chair behind his desk. The computer screen lit up in front of him, he must have forgotten to turn it off before he left his office last time.

Sitting his phone on top of the desk he grumbled, “Hey siri.” He paused to wait for the ding before continuing with, “Play my fuckin music.” As Price instructed the phone he opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle and a glass. Twisting the top off he poured himself a glass, listening as the music started up. ‘My Girl’ played softly from the speaker, and he tipped the glass back and downed the first glass in one go.

John took a deep breath as he set the glass back down, hands gripping into the arm rests of the chair for a few moments as he steadied himself. Your words played over in his head on repeat, ‘I don’t have anything to say, Captain.’ Nothing? Not a bloody thing? He’d wanted to shout at you. To shake you like that would pry the answer out of your stubborn fucking mouth.

It wouldn’t though. He knew it would only make things worse. It would take more than just shaking you to pry the information he wanted to know out of you. It would only serve to make you want to close off more. But he was patient and he was just as stubborn as you, he’d get it eventually. Besides who in their right mind would answer a man yelling bloody murder in their face? It was the way you’d looked at him though that had nearly set him off. Like it was a secret worth your life or something. A shake of his head and he was pouring another glass, that one disappearing just as fast as the first.

Finally the alcohol felt like it was working its magic on his mind. He poured another glass and set the bottle down on the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think about you. How you’d looked away from him when all he so desperately wanted was to know why you seemed so off. You weren’t fidgety, and you’d still been pleasant enough before the mission. But it was like you had been in another place from the second you’d stepped in to see the team’s cages.

The way you’d stood in the center of the room still played over in his mind. He should have scrubbed you from the mission the second his instincts started telling him something was off with you. Should have scrubbed the whole fuckin mission and just put surveillance on the place. He picked up the glass of bourbon and took a slow sip and another few deep breaths. The music filled the room, floating around in his mind and working to calm him down like he was trained to come down to it. Technically he was after years of using it to relax.

Christ he couldn’t forget the dread though the moment he had seen Soap come out of that building and you weren’t with him. He’d hid it the best he could on his face but when the Sergeant had said you’d stayed behind to defuse the bomb he had nearly lost his mind. John had just gotten you back after eight months and the thought of losing you because he let you go out on your own with Soap as your partner would have eaten at him for the rest of his life.

A deep sigh and he pulled open another drawer, taking out a small wooden box as he opened it. He pulled out one of the thick brown cigars, smelling it with a deep breath before he nodded to himself. Standing up he moved to the window in the far corner, unlocking it before he opened it and headed back to his seat.

Price prepped the cigar with surprising speed, cutting it with a cutter he kept in the top drawer of his desk next to his lighter. Sparking the lighter he tilted the end of the cigar over it, watching the edges go cherry before he put the lighter back down. When the edges were toasted properly he lifted the cigar to his mouth, holding it with one hand and sparking the lighter with the other. He puffed a few times as he rotated the cigar in his mouth, continuing the process until the whole end was hot and glowing.

He didn’t inhale at first, careful not to extinguish the light when he tapped the ash off the tip and took quick drags from it. Until finally it was prepared properly. Finally he could enjoy it and sit back with his glass in hand and his cigar in the other. The Captain leaned back in the chair and picked up his phone as he took puffs from the cigar. Notes of dark chocolate, maple, and spice hit his senses pleasantly along with the cognac-like sweetness of it. He smiled at the taste before he propped his feet up on the desk. The second his foot touched the desk though the screen of the computer lit up again.

Blue eyes flicked to the lit up screen, he really should shut that off. He wasn’t going to be using it today anyway. With a sigh he kicked his feet off the desk again and scooted forward to shut the computer down with a few quick clicks. Before he could kick back again though his eyes caught on the file with your picture on the front. The file Laswell had given him that had your entire military career hidden inside. Everything he had elected not to find out before the mission.

John had decided he would just ask you once things calmed down. He hadn’t wanted to invade your privacy, but with how things had just gone and his own anger still lingering it felt almost imperative that he found out more about you. Almost like it was dangerous not to know, wasn’t it? Reaching for the file he slid it over the desk towards him, his finger running over the picture of your face with a hard swallow. You were younger in this image. Eyes even brighter than they were now, a cocky smile on your face. It looked like you’d probably just gotten out BUD/S and hadn’t ever even seen a covert op before.

He couldn’t help the small turn up at the corners of his mouth as he sat the glass down and put the cigar between his lips and teeth. As he sat up in the chair and pulled himself closer to the desk he steeled himself as he opened the file. The first page was just the basics, basically your ‘about me’. It listed your skills, your number of deployments, your height, weight, eye color, hair color, age, birthday, original place of residence, citizenship status, your name-

The Captain froze as he stared down at the letters. Suddenly he remembered one of the reasons he had chosen originally not to look inside. Everything in him told him to look away and yet he couldn’t. The man was in a trance-like state as he zeroed in on the line and he knew he’d never be able to forget that name. It was currently being branded into his thoughts.

Suddenly he realized he wasn’t even breathing before he inhaled a deep breath. Cigar smoke filled his lungs and it threw him into a coughing fit as he pulled it from his mouth. It took him nearly a full minute to regain his breath. He set the cigar in the ashtray as he calmed his burning lungs, shaking his head at his incompetence.

And then your file was calling his name again as he sat forward and flipped to the next page before he was zoned out again. He took a sip of the bourbon as he scanned the pages. Your criminal record which was surprisingly long, military test scores, court transcripts, mission reports. There was almost too much information on you. It was the court transcripts that really took his interest first though.

You had been arrested by the NCIS and tried for eight counts of treason, conspiracy to commit murder, and the murder itself. Eight fuckin counts? Really? That just seemed exorbitant. He read through the transcripts with quiet bewilderment. The NCIS had tried to convict you for the deaths of your entire team. Not a shred of real evidence except for the simple fact that you had survived and they hadn’t.

A railroad case if he’d ever seen one. His brunette brows furrowed as he read through the accusations that had been thrown at you. And then he saw the section where you had been put on the stand, level headedly answering every single question with the simple facts of the event. John’s head shook as he sat back in the chair with the packet of papers in his hand and began to read.

Prosecuting Attorney (PA): Master Chief I’ve got to be honest it just doesn’t seem plausible that your entire team is killed in an explosion and yet you, by some miraculous turn of events, are still alive and here with us today.

Defending Attorney (DA): Objection your honor. Where is the question?

Judge: Sustained, ask a question.

PA: Of course your honor, my apologies. So Master Chief, where were you when the explosion happened?

Master Chief (MC): I was outside of the building speaking to the child.

PA: What child Master Chief?

MC: Our HVT’s child.

PA: And where were the rest of your team Master Chief?

MC: I had directed Bravo Two to continue on into the building to detain the HVT. Bravo Four was a dog handler as well and we shared duties on missions so I sent Xena in with him to help-

The rest of your statement had been marked out, scratched from the records.

PA: So you, Master Chief, stayed outside the building and sent your men inside without a leader. Bravo One for one of the most deadly teams in the world and you make a decision that ended with the death of eight tier one operators and your very own dog. Why was that, Master Chief?

MC: I didn’t have a choice.

PA: You didn’t have a choice?

MC: No. I was the only one that the child understood. If I left him there was no way to be sure he wouldn’t have become a safety risk.

PA: So you made the decision to send a less experienced team member into the building to lead your team. And another even less experienced handler to watch your dog. You then proceeded to remain outside the target building with your HVT’s child. Is that correct?

MC: Yes sir.

There were even more lines marked out as if you had tried to explain yourself even more and they had struck that from the record as well.

PA: So then how did you end up riddled with shrapnel from the explosion, Master Chief?

MC: I heard what sounded like shouting and was moving into the building as the bomb went off. I was pinned under the building debris for an hour before a medevac arrived. I was told I was lucky to be able to still walk.

PA: Oh you can do much more than walk, isn’t that right Master Chief? You were even cleared medically to operate again two weeks ago by your doctors. So while you, the only EOD expert on your team, were sitting outside this building with a child, your men were inside securing an HVT and just before they brought him out they got killed by an explosion. That’s correct isn’t it Master Chief?

MC: Yes sir.

PA: Is it not also correct that you were seen at a local bar two days before this incident with a known terrorist?

MC: No sir.

PA: No?

MC: No sir. I was at the bar, yes, but so were the rest of my team and nearly a hundred other people that night. It was the only bar in range of our base at the time of deployment. It’s not surprising there were other people there, sir. It was a popular bar.

John couldn’t help the proud little smile he got reading that last line. Your weird humor, jokes, and terrible timing were present even two years ago. Good to know that was just how you always were. The rest of the transcripts were just your attorney reiterating that you had tried to go in to save your team and that the prosecution really didn’t have anything on you in terms of evidence.

The whole case rested on the foundation that you had known there would be a bomb inside that building. That you had known your team was going to die in that explosion. But there was no real case there, nor was there even a shred of evidence. Just a lawyer trying to spin a tale about how you had been knowingly incompetent and had sent your team to their deaths. It was laughable, and laugh he did.

Flipping to the next page John picked up the AAR for the very mission having been referenced in that trial. A detailed list of events told him everything that had happened, or at least everything you had reported. Your arrival time had been 21:47. Your team had come in on trucks, there was no need for being covert as it had been in the middle of nowhere. Upon your arrival you cleared through the front gate of the property dispatching the four outside guards. As you went to enter the building though a child had come out the front door.

You stated in your after action report that the child had only been about nine or ten years old, a male of non-fighting age. But anyone could get lucky. So, you had handed off your dog to Bravo Four, a Petty Officer Second Class Knox. You had then given the lead of the team over to Bravo Two, a Senior Chief Petty Officer McCann. Then you had stayed with the child outside of the building until two minutes later when you reported to command you heard screaming.

The court transcripts had already said you heard yelling but your AAR stated more, and in much greater detail. John took a sip from his glass of bourbon, wiping at his tired eyes before he continued. Apparently you had heard a woman’s scream and a man shouting in Oromo from your place outside. You reported having made it into the building after ordering the kid to get back behind the front gate. As you entered though the explosion had leveled the building and you had been trapped under the debris. You didn’t report any kind of blackout or anything, apparently you had been awake the whole time.

His heart hurt as he read the report, just the idea of you being hurt set him on edge. But something like this stuck with a man. It became a part of them, and for most it would have taken over every thought so completely it was doubtful there would have been any coming back from that. Yet you had persevered, found a way to make it work. Found a way to keep your sanity even when the odds had been stacked so heavily against you. Hell you left the very country you were born in, your wife, your parents, your siblings, everything you’d ever known and still you were alive. You were here. You were, on the outside, still whole.

It didn't take long for him to delve deeper into the file Laswell had put together of you. He read every single detail that he could. Once he had started he couldn't bring himself to stop. You were an addiction he could never seem to soothe. And the parts he had been dying to learn, to discuss with you, were at his very fingertips after you had so stubbornly kept them from him. He couldn't help it as he flipped to the next AAR, the next training report, the next page of your life. John would consume every single word in this file if it was the last thing he ever did, and for that night it was.

-------(Speck POV)------

Sunlight had started to come in through the window an hour ago. You knew because you'd counted every second from sunrise at 0610 to now 0710. When you finally couldn't stand it anymore you pushed yourself up. Per usual Cerberus was awake the second you moved, hopping out of bed as he moved to his food and water bowl waiting for his morning meal. You were quick to give it to him, scooping food into the bowl and filling the other one from the small tap in the room.

As Cerberus ate you brushed your teeth, quickly and then grabbed one of the pairs of jeans Laswell had provided you with as well as one of the dark t-shirts. You reached over the end of the bed into your duffel as you grabbed the cowboy boots at the bottom. Fuck laces today, you were too damn tired to deal with them. Getting dressed you stayed scarily quiet, maybe Ghost was starting to rub off on you.

Doubtful. Old dogs didn't learn new tricks. You had enough experience with them, you should know. Motioning for Cerberus the dog's head lifted from his water bowl as he trotted over, his muzzle dripping water all over the floor. It made you smile as you clipped the lead onto his collar and made for the door.

A deep rumble from the other side of the room stopped you though, "Where are you going?" Your eyes shot to the Lieutenant in the bed, his mask on and eyes glaring at you from where he was laying down. How long had he been awake? Holy hell. Maybe you hadn't been as quiet as you originally thought. Or maybe he sensed movement in the way the air moved through the room like some freaky cat man. Now that was a funny thought.

As it came to you though you drowned it in your mind. No way were you about to say that to him. Instead you cleared your throat and pointed towards the door, "Out." Hazel eyes narrowed into a true glare as he began to sit up. Quickly you tacked on, "To the mess hall. Out to the mess hall." Do not sass off to the scary fucker in the mask Speck. Please for the love of everything use your fucking brain.

Ghost rubbed at his face through the mask as he looked at you. Slowly he slid his long legs off the bed and stood up, "Wait." Simple enough to follow that instruction at least. You watched as he pulled on a pair of pants and a hoodie before he stood and grumbled, "Go." Leading him out you headed for the mess, it was surprisingly quiet this morning. Either too early or too late for the majority of the people on base. Moving through the line both you and Ghost found an empty table to take up residence at until it was time to head to the debrief.

It was only a couple minutes after that though that the table began to fill starting with Watcher who seemed just as awake as if it was the middle of the day. The ginger Scotsman cast you a friendly smile before saying, "Good mornin’ ta ye, Speck! Sleep well?" Those bright blue eyes flicked between the two of you with that sweet look. You were suddenly struck by just how young he looked. You'd thought about it a few times but until he was sitting there with a tray of food and those bright smiling eyes at 07:20 it hadn't occurred to you he barely looked a day over eighteen.

He reminded you of yourself when you'd first joined up. Fresh-faced and eager wouldn't even begin to cover it. You hadn't even finished high-school when you were running drills at boot camp. There had only been one path for a man who had fucked his life up when he got a girl pregnant at seventeen and set to deliver just a few months before graduation. So you'd sacrificed your future as an officer in the Navy and enlisted so she could finish high-school, so she could raise your daughter, so that both of their futures would be bright and happy. It hadn't been enough though, you’d never been enough.

When Ghost merely grunted at the ginger and lifted his mask up to take a bite of his eggs it left you to make conversation. Your dry eyes focused on the young man as you nodded, "Yeah. Slept great. How about you?" You kept the tiredness out of your voice, fixing him with a pleasant smile that you'd perfected over the years. Just smile and nod Speck, you'll get through this day just like you always do. Thoughts full of John and his disappointment and anger or no, you’d get through it.

The young Scotsman was soon joined by the youngest Brit on the team, you watched as Gaz took a seat beside Watcher with his own tray of food. It didn't even distract the young man in the slightest, "Aye I slept like a bear. Until Konig woke me up halfway through the night with his-" The noise the other man made took you completely aback. A small smirk finding your mouth at the noise. You blinked a few times and shot a look at Gaz who was smirking and then at Ghost who was…currently sitting with his head on his forearms and breathing deeply. Man was asleep again, good God.

Well he was asleep until Soap's tray of food clattered down beside him and he shot up with an angry look around the table for the perpetrator of such a heinous crime. For a second he looked like he was about to flip the dark haired Scotsman off the bench before he stopped himself settling for a quiet and seething glare fixing on him. "Good morning lads, beautiful sunrise this morning. I hope some of ye caught it," he didn't even glance at the withering look the Lieutenant was currently giving him. He had opted for the ignore and maybe he won't shoot you approach it seemed.

You gave him a quick smile and answer, "Oh yeah she was a beauty this mornin’." You shoveled some of the potatoes into your mouth along with a scoop of eggs. The Lieutenant across from you visibly recoiled at the sight of you mixing your food in your mouth. You wouldn't have taken Ghost for a picky eater but apparently you were wrong because when you did it again he threw his legs over the bench and put his back to you as he leaned against the table. It was honestly kind of a humorous sight to see the big man so broken by the sight of your eating habits.

Soap looked like he was about to say something when phones around the table buzzed. God already? You couldn't take another op this soon, not after the sleepless night you'd just suffered through. A smile lit up Soap's face the second he saw the text though and with the way he was looking you couldn't help but be curious. Leaning forward across the table a bit you caught the Sergeant's attention and he suddenly seemed to realize the fact that you weren't privileged with a phone at the moment. "No debrief this morning. Price said Laswell can't make it so we'll just do our AAR's and call it a day." You forced a smile on your face despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

No debrief meant you weren't likely to see him today then. Which also meant you wouldn't know if he'd forgotten about the whole mess of yesterday or not. You should have been happy like the rest of them, but the settling fact that you weren't likely to see John unless you sought him out was already weighing on you. Everyone else at the table was all smiles, chatting it up together as they ate their breakfast. Meanwhile you were a thousand miles away and off in your own drowning pit of despair.

When you finished the food on your tray you downed the rest of your water, gave the rest of the team a pleasant enough smile and bid your goodbyes. Maybe a shower would help, it always felt good to get clean, right? Wash all the burdens down the drain and let the warm water relax your muscles. Anything was better than continuing to let your brain rot in this purgatory it seemed to be settling itself into. Just go take a shower and forget your problems for a few minutes. Maybe then you could figure out how to fix this gap you'd only seemed to widen with John since you’d gotten here.

Stepping into the bunkhouse you unclipped Cerberus' lead, watching him move back to his unfinished breakfast and water bowl. You grabbed one of the clean sets of clothes from the table where you'd left them the other day. It looked so cluttered now, you really should pack all of this into your duffel. Ghost didn't strike you as the type to enjoy being surrounded by a mess. Bit of a clean freak if his spotless side of the room was anything to go by.

When you glanced at the corner where you'd thrown your duffel you quickly remembered you'd been forced to shed your gear in here last night. Damn you really needed to get all that stuff back to Wade lest that man had a conniption fit when his numbers were off. After a shower though, stay focused man. You lifted your duffel out of the corner, setting it on the bed and glancing through it. The black Georgia Bulldogs hat was near the top of the contents as you pulled it out, settling it on your head. It'd been too long since you'd been able to wear this thing and it was more of a comfort than you'd remembered, a small reminder of home that you'd forgotten you ever even needed.

Continuing to sort through the bag though your brows began to furrow. What the hell? You shifted the contents of the bag again and felt your heart rate rising with every second that it didn't touch your hand. Where the fuck was it? Another scramble of the contents of the bag and still the object you were looking for didn't turn up. No, no, no…Without a moment of hesitation you flipped the contents of the bag out, watching the items clutter the bed. Cerberus' spare tactical collar, his chain collar, the staple gun, knives, duct tape, countless other meaningless things but not the one thing that fucking mattered.

The bag dropped from your grip as you stared at the contents spilled onto your bed. Anger was beginning to boil underneath your skin, real and all consuming because it was the one thing that mattered other than Cerberus. The one thing you never left anywhere without. Hell it was the only thing other than your hat and boots that had made it this far from the US. If you thought you'd felt sick before this was more like a deadly plague. The back of your hand pressed against your lips, starting to shake as you breathed through the panic.

When the door opened behind you, you whirled on the Lieutenant coming through the door with Soap on his heels. They both stared at you for a tense moment but you couldn't have cared less what they were here to do. Instead your mind was filled with another question and you blurted it out without even thinking, "Did you go through my stuff, Ghost?" Somehow you kept the panic out of your voice and eyes. How you did it was a mystery but you'd managed it just barely.

Immediately Ghost's head tilted to the side and he blinked. Did he think that you were joking or something? Answer the fucking question, and answer he did, "No." Like hell he hadn't. No one else ever came in here who else would have touched your stuff.

You couldn't stop yourself from blurring out the accusation with a hard look, "No one else comes in here Ghost so if you didn't touch it who did?" It was stupid and you shouldn't have done it. When you were looking back on this moment you knew you would be regretting it, but the panic coursing through you along with the need to find it was making you incapable of worrying about the consequences.

Ghost's glare was obvious behind his mask then as he shot back, "How the bloody hell should I know? Come on, Johnny," the big man herded Soap out of the room and the door slammed shut behind him. Your hands couldn't stop shaking now, not even Cerberus' whines were reaching you and calming you down like they normally did.

This was the one thing you couldn't lose. The one thing that couldn't be replaced. Take your hat, take your boots, hell take a fucking limb but don't take that. Solutions ran through your head, maybe you'd left it somewhere. Even as you thought it you didn't believe it but maybe, just maybe, you'd forgotten it somehow.

Where was the last place you remember having it? In the showers. You'd seen it in your duffel bag as you were getting dressed after you and John had fucked. Start there then. "Fuss," you muttered and threw the door open, not even bothering with the dog's lead or to clean up the mess on your bed. You just took off running across the base with Cerberus at your side.

When you threw open the door of the showers you bolted inside. Cerberus panted beside you into the humid room, pacing the length of the aisle as you searched frantically through the locker you'd been using that day. Top to bottom it was completely empty, not so much as an indication it or you or anyone had ever been in there. "Fuck," you growled out, knuckles slamming against cold metal before you could even stop yourself.

A dent stared back at you as you held onto the sides of the locker. Rocking into it slowly your forehead tapped against the metal, you squeezed your eyes shut telling yourself to think, to remember. It had been in your bag a few days ago. Hadn't it? You'd seen it. Or had you just thought you saw it cause it was always there.

"Think!" You yelled to yourself as the side of your fist slammed into the locker then and you turned around. Cerberus was on the bench in front of you, his head tilting before he let out a low whine. When he moved his face closer to you though you backed away, all you could think about was her. The one you'd lost. And now you'd even lost the only fucking thing you had left of her. The Dutchie's head tilted to the other side and his ears pinned back to his skull. You'd never refused his touch before, never backed away from his comforting warmth. In fact you almost always without fail leaned into it, sought him when something was wrong.

Cerberus didn't understand, how could he? Your fingers shot up into your hair, tangling into the locks as you tried to steady yourself. To fight back the rising panic that was so close to consuming you. Just retrace your steps, it wasn't like you'd been all that many places on base yet. Where else had you been other than the showers? There was the mess hall but it definitely wasn't there and if it had ever been it wouldn't be there anymore. The cages but there was no way you would have brought it there, you knew you were heading out on a mission. You'd never be so careless with it. The squad room and John's office-

That had to be it, it was the only other place you'd been since you got here. If it wasn't in the showers or the bunkhouse it had to be there. You started off again, out the door with Cerberus at your hip as you sprinted across the base towards the squad room. As you peeled the corner and made for the door you stopped, frozen in place. The keypad glared at you with its mocking red light.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, the frustration was overflowing. Your anger and other emotions were the only thing holding the panic at bay now. Your foot kicked against the heavy door, a blockade you couldn't breach without the proper tools of which you had none. Once the beating started you couldn't stop it though, you reared back and let loose again as your foot slammed into the door. Your punches followed a moment after as you tried to beat the heavy obstacle into submission. Pain shot through your fist but even that didn’t stop the overwhelming anger and frustration.

It didn't budge. It wouldn’t fuckin budge. Until it did. And before you could stop it your foot slammed directly into John's solar plexus. Your eyes went wide immediately as you rushed frantically for him, "Oh shit, oh fuck. I'm sorry, I didn't mean- That was- I'm- Fuckin- Holy crap I'm sorry, John." Great now you'd hurt him both physically and emotionally. Why not go for the trifecta and just scar him for life Speck?

The Brit had stumbled backwards and landed on the couch when your full force kick had caught him so completely unawares. At first you saw anger flash in his eyes as he looked up at your face. Until he realized who it was and that your hand was currently pressed into his chest where the blow had landed. Then his rough palm came up to press against the back of your hand warm as his eyes searched yours. Your thoughts were buzzing and full with him. His warmth, his smell, the burning look in his eyes. It all crashed over your senses and for just a moment you forgot just why you'd been trying to beat the poor door in a few moments ago.

Then it all came crashing back the second he rumbled out, "I'm fine, no worries." Your fight with him, his anger at you, the near sacred object that you had lost. Like lightning your hands were back by your sides as you stepped away from him and looked around the squad room. His footsteps as he stood from the couch and Cerberus' both followed you, and you could hear John's curiosity without him even having to say anything. You didn't have the time to talk though, at least not in your mind.

Any second now you were going to lose what little calm you were currently able to hold onto. And there wasn't much of that to start off with after a sleepless night. Your eyes darted around the room as you moved to the fridge, glancing at the floors and the counter. Pulling the microwave off the wall as if what you were looking for could even fit behind there. "Speck?" John said your name and it didn't even register as you moved to the table you'd seen Watcher and Konig sitting at. You had stopped to talk to the German that morning, maybe it was there.

Looking around the table you huffed and dropped to your hands and knees inspecting the floor under the table as well. "Speck," it was a demand now and while it registered it wasn't for long. You didn't even turn your eyes up to him before you were back on your feet and moving towards the couch again. The cushions didn't last long as you started to pull them off, scanning as panic began to set in again.

Nothing, it wasn't there. Why wasn't it there? Cerberus was starting to whine again, he could sense your growing panic and he shoved his face into your hand. As if it had scalded you, you jerked away from him. Stepping away from the dog as he laid down with a dejected look on his face and his head on his paws, watching you with those big chocolate eyes. Fuck, stop doing that Speck. He doesn't even know what's going on. You'd lost one dog to a tragic accident already. The last thing you needed was to lose another because you couldn't keep it together.

"Stop," you whispered to yourself, hands reaching back into your hair and pressed against the sides of your head as if you could stop the racing thoughts by the force of your own hands. Faces flashed in your mind, groans of pain from you and the others trapped in that building. Their seared flesh assaulting your nose as you tried to do anything but wretch onto the ground at the stench of their burnt bodies. Yelps reached your ears, howls of pain from an animal who couldn't quite understand what had happened. Just as the rest of your team had been, Xena had been trapped in that rubble, flesh burnt and cooked alive in the initial blast.

McCann's scream as he probably tried to move and realized he was missing more than one limb. You knew that voice anywhere and you'd seen his body as they medevaced you all out. He'd been your best friend since you'd been Bravo Three when he'd just joined the teams and that was the day you'd lost him. After nearly ten years of operating together you had been forced to listen as he screamed and cried and begged to be put out of his misery.

That was the day you lost them all. McCann, Suarez, Knox, Zerol, Tyler, Baez, Anders, Cole, and Xena, nine losses in one day. It never should have happened to begin with, it was supposed to be a knockout op and everything had come crashing down around you. And the only thing you had left of them, of your brothers, of that life, was gone. You'd lost it just like you'd lost them, because you were careless and distracted and fucking stupid.

"Speck!" Hands grabbed your shoulders in an iron grip that made you wince at first as the man who had been trying to talk to you since the moment you'd walked through the door started shaking you. He pulled you out of the torrential downpour of your mind, finally drawing your eyes up to him even as you tried to drag yourself away. "Hey! Listen, look at me, sweetheart. You're ok, yeah?" The fingers holding you were too much, a physical touch that set your neurons on fire and made you flinch away even when you didn't mean to.

Your hand slammed into his elbow as you tried to pull away, unable to control your thoughts and movements at the same time. As soon as John noticed how hard you were struggling to get away though his hands released your shoulders and you backed up a few steps from him. Your mind was alight with stimuli, throwing you into a whirlwind of experience as you stumbled backwards away from him. The brunette held up his hands, your eyes zeroing in on the calloused palms and inspecting every mark, scar, and patch of skin you could get your eyes on. "Just sit down for me before you hurt yourself," that made sense. A very logical thought John.

The back of your thighs hit the table and your hands shot backwards. Your fingers dug into the wood as your breaths came fast and uncontrolled. John waited until you slid yourself backwards onto the table before he stepped forward a step. You gaze shot up, fixing onto his soft eyes and for just a moment you saw McCann in his gaze. Until now you hadn't realized it but they had shared the same color eyes, maybe that was why you'd so easily trusted him. John reminded you of him. The man you'd pined after for nearly a decade without any ability to go through with it. You were married and by the time you weren't well…by the time you weren't he was long gone from this cruel world.

"What's wrong?" His words rumbled out smoothly in that deep, gravelly voice. Immediately your head shook in response and you saw a frown come over his features. Surprisingly he didn't press the issue though as he asked, "What are you looking for? I'll help you find it. And, don't you dare say nothing because you just tore apart our squad room." Slowly your eyes slid over the tornado that had come through here and you dropped your eyes to hide your embarrassment.

A shrug lifted your shoulders as you tried to answer, "I'm not- It's not-" The hand that wrapped around the side of your neck stopped your words before you could attempt to give him an absolutely absurd lie. His fingers dug into the flesh where your spine sat just below the skin, grounding you with the intense pressure that was edging on pain but hadn't quite made it there yet. Slowly your eyes lifted once more to find his steady, blue gaze. John watched you patiently, giving you the time to get your thoughts in order after your near breakdown but refusing to give you the space. It was a delicate line he was currently walking but somehow he was managing to balance on the tightrope of your psyche.

Just tell him, Speck. He'd said he would help you find it. Besides you seriously doubted he was about to relent his hold on your neck until you spilled what had nearly had you tumbling overboard. "It's something from my time in the SEALs," you muttered quietly and you watched him give a quick nod to indicate he'd heard. Nothing else though. He was still waiting for more and you felt your lips loosening as you started speaking, "It's important, John. It looks, uh," you paused trying to figure out how to describe it, "Like a, um," Another pause stopped you. God Speck, spit it out, "Well like a bloody shirt. It looks like a bloody rolled up shirt." His head tilted then and his grip loosened.

For a moment it felt like he was about to pull away and the moment the thought crossed your mind your hand shot up to wrap around his wrist. His gaze flicked down as you held his rough hand against your neck, his thumb swiping over your cheek with a soft touch. While his eyes and touch screamed soft and caring his voice was all business, "Where'd you see it last, Love?" Huh, he was actually going to help, and he wasn't even going to judge you for it. That was certainly a surprise.

Your eyes closed as you thought, recollecting your memories and sifting through them like files. "In my duffel bag where I always keep it. I just don't get it," your eyes opened quickly to find his gaze again as you pulled his hand down to your lap where your fingers ran over his skin in slow circles. It distracted your mind just enough that you could continue, "I mean I never take the damn thing out of my bag. Ever. Not since I left the US. It stays in there-" Your palms pressed to either side of his hand, lifting it slowly to brush his knuckles against your lips and close your eyes. "I can't lose it, John," you whispered against his skin and felt his fingers tighten around yours.

There was determination in his gaze when you looked back up at him as he brought his other hand up to rest against the back of yours. He gave a quiet nod before he pulled your hands apart, "Let's go then. We'll find it." John backed up and you slid back to the floor, following after him slowly. He stopped at the door and glanced behind you quickly before his head tilted, "Leaving Cerberus here, Speck?" Oh God you'd almost forgotten about him being here. Get back on your game before you mess something else up.

Glancing back towards the Dutchie you saw her again, for just a moment. Singed and crying and dying as she searched desperately for you. Collapsing down beside you in her final moments with her sides heaving as she whined and begged for the familiar comfort you had always brought. Your jaw tensed for just a moment until you felt a hand on your shoulder and you steeled yourself once more. Putting up that mask that kept people at a distance. You were fine, that was two years ago, Xena was gone and you had moved on from her and Bravo Team. "Hier, Cerb," the dog stood up, hesitating for just a moment before he trotted up to you, sitting at your feet with his ears pinned back and his tail whipping back and forth behind him slowly, almost nervously.

You knelt for a moment in front of him. Twice today you had pulled away from his comfort. Twice today you had hurt him without meaning to. "I'm sorry buddy," your hand ran over his head, you patted him on his side listening to the solid thump. And then you were standing up, issuing a quick, "Fuss," to the Dutchie as you turned to find John.

The Brit had already opened the door and was waiting for you patiently. As you slid by him his fingers reached out to grab your shoulder stopping you for just a moment as he stared hard at you before stating simply, “We’ll find it. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me, yeah?” You felt heat in your cheeks then, holding the breath you’d already taken in. Giving him a few quick, short nods your eyes shot down to his boots feigning interest in the laces as you swallowed hard. It felt too intimate, too close, like he truly cared about how you felt. It was a foreign experience to you.

His hand stayed at your shoulder for a few moments before he gave it a small squeeze and let the door close as he headed on down the halls. Following behind him until you were outside and you caught up, matching strides with him all the way back to the bunkhouse. Pushing the door open you stepped inside, eyes shooting to the bed where you had dumped quite literally everything out of the bag onto it. John came in behind you and closed the door quietly, his chin lifting as he looked at the mess on your side of the room.

No judgment found you though like you expected, instead he just walked over and you followed behind him. His eyes ran over the items you’d strewn over the bed, and then found the duffel bag. Meticulously he ran his hands around the inside of the duffel to check it before he started to place every single item back inside. Glancing at you with a question in his eyes, even asking on the first few, “Is this it?” When you shook your head though he would place it in the duffel and then move on to the next one.

When he ran out of items laying on the bed he moved to the table where your clothes were all still folded neatly on it. The two of you repeated the same process with the articles of clothing as he placed them all into the duffel. Not only was he helping you look for the most sacred object you possessed, at the exact same time he was helping you clean up the small space you’d been given to share with the Lieutenant.

Still there was no luck so he zipped the bag up and left it on the table for the moment. He moved to the corner where your gear had been left the night before and inspected each item carefully. John pulled what he knew was the standard issue gear you’d been given for the mission out of the corner and laid it on the table next to the duffel. His dark brows furrowed in concentration as he looked at the now empty and cleaned up space.

The nails on your fingers scratched nervously at the short hairs on your jaw, the panic beginning to rise again as you stated, “See? It’s not here. Shit don’t make sense, John.” Blue eyes turned your way for a moment before you continued, “I asked Ghost if he’d been through my stuff and he said no. I just don’t get it.” You sighed and leaned back against the wall you were standing against.

Your chin tilted down against your chest, arms crossing over your chest as you closed your eyes and raised a hand to your forehead. Actively fighting back those waves of panic again. Preparing the coral reef that protected the shores of your fragile ecosystem from the oncoming tsunamis that were your memories. It was gone. You’d lost it. After two years of protecting such a precious object you’d lost it due to your own stupidity.

A hand was on yours in the next moment. Those rough palms pulling your hand off your forehead and replacing it with his own warm and lined one. His hands cupped your cheeks grounding you in the present as you fought as hard as you could to stop the emotions trying to tear free from you. Two years and you had never expressed that grief, that pain, to anyone. There honestly hadn’t been anyone after…well after the accident.

John’s deep voice rumbled in front of you, “Listen to me.” You didn’t say anything, not even a grunt to let him know you were listening and so his fingers slid down to the back of your neck. Thumbs still pressed against the bone of your cheek as it rubbed soothingly over it, “It’s gonna be ok, sweetheart. Since when do you give up, huh?” The words made you think of all those months ago laying in his bed when you’d told him that you were, ‘Never out of the fight.’ Right now though you felt like you didn’t have the energy to barely even stand in front of him anymore. Much less fight to find the object that kept you grounded in life now.

Unconsciously you leaned forward into him, feeling his weight slowly wrapping around you. Your arms slid around his waist as you pulled him into your chest, forcing him to brace himself against the wall with a hand on either side of your shoulders. Without even really considering what you were doing your face slid into the crook of his neck, seeking comfort in a way you’d never been able to do before. Not a soul alive or dead had ever been a source of physical comfort for you and the feeling was quickly becoming intoxicating to you.

His arms boxed you in on either side before he slowly let his weight press you back into the wall. Heavy against you and the solid barrier behind you. It was like the entirety of a weighted blanket had just been thrown over just your chest, his arms slowly sliding around your back. He felt almost cautious against you, like he was afraid he was going to scare you away from the intimacy. However the only thoughts that were running through your mind at the moment were the ones currently telling you how bad you’d fucked up.

Your nose pressed hard into his neck, eyebrows furrowing as you winced from the physical sensations of grief pressing into the depths of every nerve ending in your body. He was the rock you were currently clinging to in an effort to keep yourself above the oncoming storm. “I don’t give up, John,” you finally muttered into his neck, squeezing your arms tighter around his waist. You didn’t say, ‘But what else can we do now?’ However, you certainly thought it. Your face pressed up into the warmth of his neck, blocking out the light of the day currently flooding into the room and making your eyes hurt.

Exhaustion wracked your entire body at this point. You’d checked everywhere, what else was there to do? The deep voice rumbled in front of you, vibrations running through your whole chest as he said, “Exactly.” He went quiet then, letting you exist in the silence and his warmth.

God, how long had it been since you’d actually felt someone so close like this and it wasn’t because they were trying to get into your pants? Never? There wasn’t a time you could remember when anyone had actually ever done this for you. Just let you hug them and not expect anything in return. Hell you don’t think you’d ever had anyone to hug before. How sad was that? Jesus christ you were fucked up.

John tensed in your arms suddenly and you mirrored his reaction. Feeling his grip loosening from around your back before he pulled away and suddenly the door was open. Still leaning back against the wall you turned your head to glance at the intruder. The white skull mask turned to find you as you crossed your arms over your chest and slid your carefully crafted mask into place. John raised a brow at the Lieutenant.

The big man stayed silent before you, not willing to broach the territory of a conversation first before either of you. It was John who finally spoke after more than a few awkwardly staring seconds, “Need anything Lieutenant?” Ghost turned his intense gaze to the brunette and you saw those hazel eyes narrow before flicking between the two of you. Did he know? Had he seen the two of you? Great just one more thing to add to the five course meal of anxiety you’d already been served today.

He seemed to realize something though as he glanced beside you to the empty table and asked, “Did Wade bring our laundry back?” Your head tilted immediately in question and he stared for a few seconds before saying, “Laundry day? Wade did ours. He said he dropped it off when I saw him earlier.” Your head lifted a little higher and you stepped around the table to grab the duffel bag and unzip.

Counting through the items of clothing you narrowed your eyes and muttered, “Sixteen.” John stepped closer with a confused look and you growled, “Sixteen pairs of pants and sixteen shirts. He went through my duffel for my clothes.” Anger pulsed through you, the panic that had been present a moment before completely extinguished in the blazing heat that was your rage. “He took it,” you said to John before turning to Ghost and asking, “Where was he headed?”

The big man gave you a curious look before shrugging the mass of his shoulders and answering, “Said something about the gym I think.” Ghost’s eyes were narrowed at your seething form now as you moved towards the door.

Turning to John you asked, “Where’s the gym?” The brunette watched you for a moment before he headed by you out the door and you were hot on his heels. He led you in the direction of the obstacle course but turned off the path before he got there and into a fenced in outdoor gym. And there the pale blonde stood doing barbell curls without a single damn care in the world while you ran around base nearly having a heart attack because of him.

“Speck,” John stopped you with a hand against your chest and made sure to catch your eye before he added, “I’ll talk to him. You just stay here, yeah?” Your jaw worked for a few seconds as it clenched and unclenched. He wanted you to just stay here? You deserved to be over there, to make sure that idiot knew and understood what he had done. John wasn’t going to let you no matter what, better to just agree and so you gave him a single nod of response. The Captain watched for just a moment longer before he turned and headed over to where Wade was just setting the barbell down.

There wasn’t a chance in hell you were staying over here though, no matter what you’d just told John. You stalked across the gym, slipping through the other men and women currently working out as you blended into the crowd of soldiers, even escaping John’s watchful gaze long enough to get closer. As you neared your target you slowed down, catching the words of confusion from Wade who was saying, “I don’t know what you are talking about Captain. I did laundry like I always do.” Another slinking step forward and you finally caught Price’s eyes, but then Wade said the words that changed the game, “I went through his things like I told him I would. There was a bloody shirt at the bottom of his bag that I threw out, yes, but I was under the impression-”

“You did what?” Your question came out before you could stop it, you truly hadn’t even meant to say it aloud. The man froze in front of you as you stood at his back seeming to loom over him like a shadow now. You were taller than him yes but you certainly weren't loom over him tall, not until that very moment anyway. Wade slowly turned his head to glance over his shoulder, finding the deadpanned look you were currently fixing on his wiry frame, but it was impossible to miss the growing rage swirling in your eyes. “I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” The blonde darted forward over the barbell he had dropped a few moments ago with surprising quickness and put Price’s large form between you and him.

Frantically the man answered you with a quick, “I-I threw it away. It was just a bloody shirt. I can’t get that much blood out so-so-so I got rid of it. I told you I was going to!” For a tense and surprisingly quiet moment you just stared at the man. You were so still it was like staring at the dead eyes of a statue, not even your jaw was working anymore. He’d thrown it away? He’d thrown your stuff away? Your fists clenched despite the stillness of the rest of your body.

Until not even your shock could hold you to the ground anymore and you lunged forward so fast you were around Price almost before the man could react. Just as you darted by though his arm whipped out, fingers wrapping around your forearm as you did the same and snapped Wade’s arm up in an iron grip. Immediately they were both pulling in different directions in their attempt to get you off of the Corporal. John was dragging you back by the one arm and wrapping his arm around your torso in an attempt to control your sudden outburst. Wade was pulling away as hard as he could, prying the bone crushing grip of your fingers off of his comparatively thin wrist.

Price’s arm locked your other arm down to your side even as you held onto Wade, lifting you up off the ground as you fought back with wild elbows. He jerked you around to the other side and your grip on Wade couldn’t hold any longer at the force of two people working to get you off of him. The wiry man backed up as Price restrained your now free arm. “Get back here fuckface,” you yelled at him, drawing eyes from the rest of those at the gym but not a bit of embarrassment coursed through you.

Your growl shifted to John right behind you then, “You promised me you’d get it back. Taking it back now?” The volatile anger was on full display now, completely unhinged and exploding. Unlike your pain, grief, and panic, anger was one of the only emotions you’d ever been allowed to set free and by God were you letting it go. There was a readiness to kill in your eyes that couldn’t have been rivaled even by a rabid dog. Your talisman had been taken from you, ripped from your very soul, and there was nothing centering you anymore. No one could have calmed you down at that moment, not a soul alive or dead.

When John whipped you back around so he could find Wade’s eyes he glared at the man and said through gritted teeth as he strained to keep you restrained, “Find it, Wade. I don't care what you have to do, but you find that fucking shirt. Now.” The pale blonde backed up a few more steps as he watched you still trying to break free with a singular thought to get to him, and then the man took off at a sprint out of the fenced in gym. And especially away from the killer that was currently trying to fight their way towards him with tooth and nail.

The arms around you hugged you so tight to his body that with every breath out you felt how much harder it was to take in the next one. His arms were rock hard against your torso as they strained and flexed. The growl in your ear barely registered, “Speck stop. He’s going to get it back,” your feet hit the ground and the second they did you spun him around shoving him backwards towards the fence until you felt his body hit against it. The Brit held fast though as he growled again, “If you don’t stop I will make you. Control yourself.”

The words grated your mind like nails on a chalkboard. Making you flinch away as you tried to rein yourself in. “Control myself? Control myself!?” In one swift, anger fueled movement of your hands they shot up to the weak point where his fingers were locked together and broke his hold. “I was controlling myself.” You stepped closer to him, breaths coming in deep and fast as you spat, “He’d be dead right now on the ground if I hadn’t been controlling myself.” Backing up a step you growled at the other man, “You have no idea what he did, Captain,” before you could back up again he grabbed you by the arm. His fingers wrapping around your bicep as he drug you out of the fenced in area.

Both of you turned a corner into a little space between two buildings before you jerked your arm from his grip. He stood a little straighter in response and took a deep breath before he finally spoke as calmly as he could, “I don’t know what he did because you won’t tell me. So tell me. Explain why you just tried to kill one of my men.” Again with this, good Lord. Why in the hell did he want to know so bad? What did it matter the reason why, you’d done it that was the end of the story right? A sigh left you as you shook your head and started to turn to leave but he blocked your path.

Turning back around you clenched a fist. You’d never talked about it, he didn’t want to see that. Watch you break down talking about dead men he’d never even known. He wouldn’t care, it was your problem to handle and you had been before this whole team came alone. John didn’t want to see what would happen when you were forced to talk about this. It was degrading, shameful, no one was supposed to see you like that and especially not another man. John wasn’t backing down though as you stared him down, you either talk or get prepared for an actual fight.

For the first time in a long time though you’d found a man you weren’t willing to just let loose and deck. You broke first, eyes averting to the ground with a sigh. Just get it over with, keep it together, and then go find Wade and finish the job. “It’s the shirt I was wearing when I lost my team,” his hard gaze softened but only just barely. He wasn’t letting you off that easy this time, he wanted more. “I keep…things inside of it.” Your arms crossed over your chest, fingers picking at the skin of your elbow as you tried to keep the anxiety from bubbling up at the memory of your most holiest of possessions.

“How did you lose your team?” His question made you tense, spine going rigid as you fought back those memories again. Why? Why ask a question like that? Your eyes shot past him before you shook your head. That wasn’t going to cut it though because he asked again immediately, “How did you lose your team, Speck?” Your lips parted for a moment almost finding the resolve to answer and then losing it just as quickly as it had come.

Shifting uncomfortably on your feet you wrapped your arms a bit tighter around your torso and shook your head muttering, “I’ve never-” Your voice cracked and you hid it behind a false clearing of your throat. John’s eyes narrowed in response but he remained stubbornly in front of you blocking your way. Again your gaze dropped to the ground and you shook your head, “I can’t talk about it.” You took a breath and saw him move forward like he was about to say something else in response before you added, “Not here.” Well you’d bought yourself some time with that one at least as you watched him pause his step and then beckon you with a wave.

He led you back through the paths to the bunkhouses. Bothering to keep stride with him felt pointless now. The exhaustion was hitting you as your anger once again evaporated out of your mind like sweat off of skin. You had no doubt that if Wade were to enter your field of view again you would be raring to go. However, as of right now you just felt the full weight of everything you'd kept so compressed behind lock and key for two years finally coming back to bite you in the ass.

You were so out of it. Just barely managing to force yourself to follow with a straight face and your eyes locked on John's back that you didn't even hear the approaching feet behind you. A hand waved in front of your face and you blinked a couple times, turning to find Soap watching you curiously as he walked behind Price with you. "Are ye ok?" A half smile tilted up the corner of your mouth in response and you nodded instinctively. It was a conditioned response so ingrained into you that it happened of its own volition. "Well did ye find what ya were looking for?" Another brick was added to the growing number on your back, weighing you down you were sure you were going to start sinking into the ground any minute now.

There was a hitch in your step and you just barely caught yourself as the toe of your boot grazed against the ground and caught on the path below you. You very nearly took a nosedive for the ground hands reaching out to grab onto something to stop your descent. Something caught you and you looked up, saved by the man you'd been following who had stopped abruptly by chance and turned with wide eyes as you fell. Immediately you pushed yourself away from him and gave a small smile and huff of amusement to keep the Scot from asking too many questions. You were so off your game of being "Speck" that you were nearly unrecognizable as an operator right now and the last thing you needed was Soap deciding he wanted to know why too.

Thankfully John answered for you, "Don't you have paperwork to fill out Soap? I expect it to be on my desk by morning." The Scotsman was groaning nearly as soon as the words 'Don't you' came out of the Captain's mouth. He retreated with a few quick goodbyes and I’ll see you laters before John kept walking while you trailed behind him. When you ascended the stairs and he opened the door of his bunkhouse he locked the door behind you and guided you to one of the chairs in the room. "Sit," he ordered in that deep voice that for once wasn't reaching below your belt where it usually did.

The sound died almost the second it hit your ears but you did manage to comply with the order. Leaning back in the chair with your elbow on the table beside you as you turned your face to rest your mouth on your fist. John pulled up a chair in front of you then and you were reminded very suddenly of when he'd done the same during his interrogation of you.

That's what this was though wasn't it? It was just another interrogation except this time the information was valuable. Something you actually cared about. A secret you held so closely and dear to your heart that you'd never let anyone even come close to it before. Yet here you were about to divulge it to a man, to John. Good God your parents were right, you were weak.

Shifting your eyes to his, he was already staring at you. It made your eyes flick away immediately, fixing on the door, your escape. John said nothing though, he just sat there and he waited. The man was patient beyond reason, patient and stubborn, a natural born sniper. You lost track of the time the two of you spent sitting there in silence with him unmoving as he watched you. Meanwhile you were doing everything in your power not to shift under his gaze all the while failing miserably.

It had to have been close to two hours, if not more than that, by the time you finally opened your mouth, "It was an explosion." Your throat felt dry as you spoke and you saw him sit forward in the chair with his elbows on his knees listening intently. And again he waited, sat there unmoving once more wearing down your psyche with his gaze and quietness alone. "I fucked up. I sent them in without me when I never should have." You felt your breaths becoming shallower, your throat tightening in response to your admission of guilt for the first time ever. Acknowledging your part in your team's death out loud this time, not just in your head.

There was no lying to John though. You couldn't lie and especially not now, not about this. People saw through you so easily it was laughable, and sadly there was no role to play here but your own sad and pathetic one. So your story continued, "I tried to go in for them but by the time I got my shit together it was too late. Got blown up, ten times worse than the bombs at Zabol's market. This one had one hell of a kick." You remember the deafening sound, the way your ears had rung for weeks afterwards. The heat though, that searing pain of first degree burns as every hair on the front of your body singed with it. The heat was what stuck with you even now after two years.

Sitting up your hands clasped between your thighs, palms squeezing and rubbing together as you tried to mitigate the response to the memories. You failed. "They died because I made a bad decision," the acknowledgement made tears prick into your eyes, blurring your vision as you blinked them back. "I made the wrong decision and I wasn't fast enough to correct it. I lost eight brothers that day, eight of them John. My dog, too." Your eyes found him for a quick moment before darting away once more to watch your palms rubbing together still.

How did a supposed leader even fuck up so monumentally? The best of the best, that's what you had been called, that's what had been expected of you. Yet it had ended up with you lying on your back stuck under the wall that had collapsed on top of you. Your nails dug into the back of your hand until finally the pain was bringing you back. Crescent moons of blood erupted just beneath your fingernails and in your mind it felt good. Anything was better than the emotional pain of actually dealing with your grief.

John was still quiet in front of you, and you still couldn't bring yourself to look at his face. Especially not with the screams echoing in your ears again. "I was outside with a child when I heard someone screaming inside so I told the little boy to go, run as far as he could and don't come back," your voice was losing its volume and the steadiness that you had forced into it.

There was no telling how much longer you'd be able to keep it together now. Get through it so you can leave, hurry up Speck, "I watched him run, right past the front gate. And I could hear the screaming still from inside,” your hand lifted to run over your mouth as you remembered the woman and man shouting. “I heard my-my Two, McCann was his name. Ryan McCann. He commed and said he had the HVT. I hesitated, I was gonna let him finish and then I-I heard him yell something about a bomb. I was the only EOD on the team," you swallowed hard remembering when that lawyer had stated the very same thing while accusing you of killing your men.

One hand flicked up, scratching over the hairs of your beard as you nervously picked at the skin of your face. You couldn’t keep yourself still, couldn't even look up at John as the memories flooded over you, pulling you into the rising tide of your psyche. "I didn't know," suddenly you were back in that courtroom and instead of the calmness you had projected so easily there your nerves took over every movement and thought. "I never would have sent them in if I'd known. I swear, I just, I didn't-" your hands pressed into your thighs, squeezing at the muscle underneath as you fought internally with yourself.

But it wasn't until warm, rough palms found the backs of your hands that you began to truly come apart. Your eyes shut tight as the yelping started in your ears, breaths coming in quick and shallow but you couldn't fight it back anymore. The defense against the tidal wave was gone, crumbled beneath that warm touch. A knife plunged into your gut and twisted so painfully you felt like you were going to be sick. The smell of burnt flesh, hair, and fur assaulted your senses so completely you could feel the bile trying to rise at the back of your throat again. Ignore and override, ignore and override, ignore and-

John's hands grasped yours and then pried the fingers off of the flesh you'd been digging into and rested them on his own. "Come here, Love," he whispered and you didn't even realize how close he'd gotten. You'd been looking everywhere but at him. Your hands were shaking as you tried to work them but you couldn't anymore. Everything felt so dead, every limb barely even able to move anymore. The man in front of you seemed to realize it too because he slid his chair even closer, his knees pressed against the inside of your thighs as he wrapped his hands around your back and pulled you forward.

You slid along the length of his thighs until your chest was pressed to his. Warmth permeated your ice cold skin as he held you. But the memories just kept coming, the dam had not only been opened, it was blown apart and crumbling and there was no stopping it anymore. "I was trapped for an hour," you whispered against his shoulder. "I had to listen as they all screamed and begged to be killed," your chest was hurting now, your heart pounding inside like a drum. "I've never heard a dog scream before but Xena…She screamed, John, how does that even-" a sob broke your sentence as finally you regained control of your arms and latched yourself onto him.

Two years you had avoided this. Let it boil and build inside you for you feared the moment it was released. Now that time was here and it was destroying you from the inside out. "I saw her, stumbling through the rubble, and I couldn't even go to her-" Another sob stopped you, your body trying to curl in on itself only stopped by the strong arms wrapped around you. "She was right there. So close to me and crying. It was like she was asking me to stop the pain and I couldn’t even give her that. She was looking at me like she knew it was my fault." The tears you'd been holding back were held back no more. They slid down your face and caught in the fabric of his shirt right where your chin was resting on his shoulder.

A hand reached up to the back of your head, stroking gently at your hair and the nape of your neck before he whispered, "It wasn't your fault, Love. It was never your fault. You made the best decision you could with the options in front of you. That's what every leader does and you did your best," the deep rumbling voice was soothing. But, even his assurances couldn't stop the absolute breakdown you were currently in the middle of.

You just wanted to hide away, seclude yourself and let it all pass like you usually did. Ignore and override. But the man you were currently clinging to for dear life wouldn’t let you do that. Quietly you whispered, "I watched all of them being carried out. Some of them made it out of the building but none of them made it through the ride back. I was under that wall for so long John. It took an hour for them to get there but it took another just to dig me out." Your face turned to face the bare skin of his neck as you rested your cheek on his shoulder.

Blue eyes turned down to look at you, wondering if you were going to keep going or let the rest die on your tongue. Fuck it. "They brought McCann by me on a stretcher. I didn't even recognize him at first. He was so…burnt. He was crying and whispering and the only hand he had left was waving around trying to find something to hold onto." Your fingers dug into the muscle of his back, holding on for dear life and the man didn't even react; he just let you take what you needed. "Then he screamed as they set him down with the others, and he saw me and he just kept muttering my name until he couldn’t anymore. Why can I still hear that? I never should have let them go in, it should have been me. I should have died with them and I didn’t." The sobs wracked your body then, shaking you in the man's arms as you buried your face into his neck.

Everything hurt. Your head, your chest, your stomach they all felt like someone was driving an ice pick into them with a hammer. Your hands were shaking so hard now that they couldn't even hold onto the man. It was like you were suffering through a fever that was burning as hot as the sun itself. "Don’t ever say that. You were meant to be here, and you were meant to live that day. What happened was a tragedy but it wasn’t anything you could have stopped. No one could have.” He paused as his lips pressed against your cheek, “I've got you," he whispered as he shifted in the chair. His beard scratched over your cheek before you felt his lips against your temple pressing a light kiss against it before he whispered again, "I've got you, sweetheart."

Strong hands ran over the expanse of your back, nails scratching light and soothingly through the fabric. And the feel of it, the intimacy of the whole situation, only drove more sobs and a fresh stream of tears from you. Your touch starved body and emotionally repressed mind didn't even know how to process it. There was so much just coursing through you right now it seemed as if it would never go away.

By the time your tear ducts had dried out you were still letting out harsh, shaking sobs against him. Your skull was pounding with the effort but you didn't know how to stop. God, had you ever cried before? Certainly not where anyone else could see. You'd been certain that you had just been born without the ability to do so. Never learning how to express emotions like this, and certainly never seeing your father do the same. If he ever saw you clinging to another man crying like a baby that man probably would have beat you senseless. Not his son.

But it didn’t matter, not right now. You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to. Every limb was dead now, you were a limp body in John’s arms as you felt him shift beneath you again. The light strokes on your back stopped for just a moment, his hands sliding beneath your thighs before you felt him stand. It was vertigo-inducing for just a moment before you pulled yourself closer and locked your legs around his waist. “Please don’t make me go, not yet,” you mumbled into his skin, feeling another sob work its way up at the thought that he was about to make you leave again.

His hands ran over the swell of your ass before his arms wrapped around your back and his hands squeezed into the muscles on your sides. You felt him shake his head against you before he answered, “I’m not making you go. Never going to let you go again.” John turned around and headed towards the door but he stopped before he made it there and when you opened your eyes you heard something behind you before the lights flipped off overhead. Your face lifted for just a moment before one of the hands left your back and moved to run through your hair as he gently pushed your cheek back down with a quiet, “I’ve got you, shh.”

John moved through the room again, before you heard the bed creak beneath you and he laid you down on your back, your head resting on the pillow. His body relaxed on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress like he had done back in your bunkhouse against the wall. It was a comforting pressure in your current state, his mass kept the anxiety at bay. The brit’s strong arms remained wrapped around your back as your own pulled his face down into your neck and shoulder so you could feel the hair of his beard scratch against your cheek.

The pounding of your head made you wince and press further into his shoulder to block out the light coming in through the window. A second later you felt his words rumble against you, “What’s wrong?” When you didn’t answer his arms unwound from around you and he pushed himself up to look down at you, the loss of his weight nearly drew out another sob at the thought he was going to get up. “What’s wrong, Speck?” Leaning on his elbows above you, you felt his hand run against your cheek as he wiped some of the tear tracks off your skin.

His soothing touch seeped into the very marrow of your bones as you leaned into it with a sigh. Finally you managed to mumble out, a strain still in your voice after your breakdown, “Head hurts.” John hummed in response and you felt fingers press into your temple gently. And then his other hand was on the other side, rubbing soothing circles into the thin skin.

Low rumbles came from his chest. They weren’t words, just quiet hums that vibrated through your entire being. It made the tension in your throat release, something for your exhausted mind to focus on that wasn’t the memories still trying to force their way into every thought. Just his presence was relaxing. It wasn’t long until your arms slowly went slack from around his neck, your hands falling to rest against your chest. His fingers lulled you slowly into the dark void of slumber surprisingly easy, especially after the sleepless night from before.

-----(John POV)-----

He’d been fighting off his own emotions the entire time he’d been watching you. The pain you had hidden for so long just rushed out in an overwhelming flood, nearly taking him under with it. His heart hurt seeing you wrecked with those emotions. And the knowledge that you had never let yourself feel it. To be the one to force it out of you hurt him more than he ever thought it would.

Now your deep breaths came evenly instead of the harsh and shaking sobs you’d been letting out a few minutes before. Your pain had become his pain and the reality of that hit him harder than he thought was imaginable. John was no stranger to emotions, he too usually held them back until he could let them out in appropriate company or just alone. But he’d rarely ever felt this, it was beyond just being empathetic towards you.

Suddenly John was very aware that this was not just a passing fancy, or some fleeting feeling of lust, it went deeper than that. And to know that at any moment you could be killed and it would be his fault scared him. Terrified him. But right now that wasn’t what he needed to be focusing on. He had more pressing matters to deal with than his own feelings towards you, even if they were scary enough to make him pause.

For one he had you beneath him, breathing deeply and fast asleep. Finally after eight months he could just enjoy the sight of you being right where you were supposed to be. Like you should have been that morning you’d first disappeared. He did wish it was under better circumstances though. Wished desperately that your eyes weren’t currently red. That your hair wasn’t a complete mess after running your own hands through it so many times. That the dirt on your face wasn’t marred by the salty tears currently staining the shoulder of his shirt.

His eyes dropped to your evenly rising and falling chest. Slowly his forehead lowered to lean against where your heart rested underneath, turning his head to lay his ear against your sternum. Your heart thudded quietly beneath the muscle, flesh, and bone, settling his nerves as it continued to beat strong and even. For now you were ok, peaceful even beneath him after you’d basically cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

John laid there for a few minutes, content to listen to your beating heart and steady breathing. His feelings, his own emotions, could be saved for another day. A day when you weren’t a vulnerable wreck at the hands of your own compressed feelings and your probable-PTSD case.

He’d figured after reading your file that that had been your problem during the op you had been on. Though he hadn’t thought he would have to see it on full display so soon after reading that AAR. The sight of you breaking because of him and his questions had been disconcerting but no one deserved to have all that pent up and especially not for two years.

It was hard for him to pin you into that corner. To force you into talking to him about it but judging by what you’d said and the way you’d reacted to those memories it was completely necessary. A sigh left him as he pushed himself up slowly, careful not to wake your heavily sleeping form beneath him. He sat himself on the edge of the bed, watching your face for a moment longer before he stood up.

His eyes immediately flicked to the mirror that hung just above the tap, catching sight of the salty stains on the shoulder of his shirt. The fingers of his hand reached up to touch it before he shook his head and quietly crossed the room to the door. He left the bunkhouse, careful not to wake you as he locked the door behind him so no one disturbed your now peaceful slumber. Crossing the path he headed for the bunkhouse you shared with Ghost and pushed inside. The Lieutenant was gone again but he was immediately greeted by the wagging tail of your dog.

“Hey Cerberus,” John muttered to the Dutch Shepherd. You’d left him behind during your rage to find Wade. The man glanced around your side of the room before he saw the lead and grabbed it off the table, clipping it to Cerberus’ collar and saying, “Right, come on then.” He slipped out of your bunkhouse and down the stairs, but he didn’t immediately go back to his bunkhouse.

John wasn’t a dog handler but he knew enough about dogs to know that this one in particular needed to expend some energy before he ended up eating through a wall or something. That was definitely the last thing he needed to hear Ghost complaining about to him. So he took Cerberus around the base with him for a few laps, watching as he tried to adjust his running style from yours to his. He let the dog run off his seemingly boundless energy at the expense of his own aching knees. Christ, how did you do this everyday? This damn dog never slowed the hell down.

By the time he rolled back up to his bunkhouse with the dog he was panting harder than the damned animal beside him. He leaned over, bracing himself on his knees as sweat dripped off his forehead. Cerberus paced beside him like he was still ready to keep going, “Not a chance, kid. Your handler can take you back out tomorrow, you’re just going to have to deal with it today.” He headed up the steps of the bunkhouse and gave a quiet cough before he opened the door and let the dog inside.

Cerberus seemed to stop to inspect the room for a moment before pulling against the lead to move where you had rolled over in the bed to face the wall. Price held tight to the lead though, stopping him from making it across the room. He had to think for a moment in an attempt to remember all the commands he’d heard you say so far before he gave up and just whispered, “Nein.” The Dutch Shepherd stopped pulling and turned to look at him with a tilted head.

John put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Stay quiet or you’re out of here.” Cerberus sat down, watching the Brit for a few more moments before the man finally gave in and led him over to the bed. The second he got within distance his paws were on the side of the bed and Price had to pull him off with another quietly whispered, “Nein.” Again the dog’s head tilted like he didn’t understand before Price whispered, “Sitz.” That was an easy one to remember at least.

Immediately the dog’s butt hit the ground and Price dropped the lead before turning his attention back to your sleeping form. You’d curled up against the wall covering your face with one forearm to block the light from the window. John moved to the end of the bed, lifting one foot at a time as he slid the boots off your feet and set them at the foot of the bed. Cerberus was watching him intently but he ignored the dog as he worked to make you more comfortable.

The pants you’d donned were his next project as he popped the button and slid the zipper down. Hooking his fingers into the waistband he pulled at them gently, his eyes watching your face carefully to make sure he wasn’t about to wake you up by accident. He guessed you were out pretty hard though as he tossed the jeans onto the boots and you never even moved save for when he had to lift your hips up for you.

He elected to leave your shirt on, it would be too hard to get it off of you while you were asleep and he still didn’t want to disturb you. Instead he set himself to arranging your limbs one at a time to pull the sheets of the bed down and lay them over your body. He backed up slowly, eyeing your almost lifeless form before he stripped his own shirt off over his head.

Using the tap he cleaned the sweat off himself as best he could, running his head under the faucet to wet his hair and cool himself off. When he turned back around Cerberus was standing again, two feet up on the bed and about to jump up before John quietly growled out, “Nein!” The Dutch Shepherd turned his head to look back, his wagging tail immediately stopping as he backed off and let out a huff. Since when do dogs give attitude?

Cerberus stared him down for a few moments before sitting back down with a seeming rumble from his chest. John let out a sigh of relief and tossed the towel he’d been using to wash off into the hamper in the corner. Shedding his pants he threw them in as well and made his way across the room to crawl up onto the bed at your back. Cerberus made a move behind him and he saw the dog coming up on his left about to try to get into the bed again.

His hand whipped out grabbing the collar and lead still attached to it, using it to guide Cerberus around his back and to his right at the foot of the bed. Unclipping the lead he threw it over your pants and boots. A whine started to come from the dog at being forcefully moved before John gave him a hard look and whispered, “What did I tell you? One more noise and you’re gone. My room, my rules, kid.” Cerberus huffed again and hopped up to the foot of the bed almost begrudgingly.

A stiff nod of his head and John climbed into the bed behind you, pulling the sheet up around you both and he pressed himself against your back. When you moved he tensed up, eyes widening as he went completely still. But you just rolled over, eyes cracking open for barely even a heartbeat before shutting again. Your face buried into his bare chest, taking in a deep breath before you wrapped your arms around his torso and threw a leg over his hip. The heel of your foot pushing his hips closer to yours.

John waited until you went still again before he slid his arm down underneath your head where it was still nestled into his chest. His other hand pressed into your lower back, pulling you somehow closer. Cerberus walked over his feet at the end of the bed before moving around to your back. He shot a warning glare to the dog but he just kept going until he was near your head and then laid down quietly, his head finding its place on your side just above where John’s arm was wrapped around you. It didn’t take long once everything was settled down for the Brit to fall asleep as well, content to hold you in his arms all night for the first time in eight months, eight bloody months.

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