Chapter Text
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Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
What a load of bullshit.
After five years of dating and twice as long being married, you’ve come to be an expert in absence and have decided wholeheartedly that the only thing your heart has grown is tired. You’re sick of falling asleep alone, waking up alone, eating alone. You miss your husband. Your heart yearns for his presence in a way that you used to think only existed in cheesy romance novels.
That’s not to say you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. John was nothing more than honest when the two of you had started dating and assured you that he’d never blame you if he came home one day to an empty house. You insisted you were in it for the long haul, and you were- you are - you just miss him so much .
You get letters sometimes and, on rarer occasions, a phone call. You cherish those few and far between moments, spending any time you can staring at John’s beautiful face to commit every new mark and scar to memory. However, it’s been four months and everything has been radio silent. He’s been gone for longer before, of course, but never this long without either talking to you or sending you some kind of message.
You spend the day resting on the sofa, mindlessly flipping through tv channels and trying to keep what little you’ve eaten. Your concern has slowly turned to sickness leaving you unable to keep down anything more than a small snack and room temperature water.
It’s nearing midnight, the glow of your neighbor’s Halloween decorations illuminating your living room in orange and green hues while their hideous plastic witch cackles loudly from their rooftop. Maybe you’ll go out and buy some candy tomorrow; the fresh air would be good for you…but you still have five days until the actual day.
Your ponderings on what candy to buy for yourself are interrupted as someone’s high beams shine through your windows, illuminating your living room to an uncomfortable level of brightness. They shut off as you sit up on the couch and the distinct sound of a car door shutting reaches your ears.
You're on your feet in record time, racing to the front door as heavy bootsteps travel up your walkway. You swing the door open, heart about to leap from your chest, with that wide smile John absolutely loves plastered on your face.
John stands there, but it’s not your John.
“Price? What are you-” He doesn’t say a word, simply standing in front of your door with a look on his face that you do not like. You move your eyes down from his face- away from that look - your gaze falling down to his hands. The smile slowly drops from your face as your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach and your hands begin to buzz like tv static.
Price, ever the gentleman, softly takes your wrist, guiding you to hold out your hand before placing the crisply folded flag with your John’s dog tags resting atop it, into your palm. You set your other hand over the dog tags and Price sets his hand over yours, squeezing gently.
The plastic witch cackles again, and you wonder if it’s possible for a person to die of heartbreak.