Work Text:
"Hey, Price."
He looked up. In the door stood John.
"Johnny! How you're doing, Son?" "Eh, had better days. Bit tired, a bit in pain. Army shit, the usual." Price let out a laugh at that, pointing his lit cigar at John.
"So true boy, so true. Speaking the words of warriors. What can I do for you, Son?" "Oh, I just wanted to get out of my room, and see who's still awake."
"Missing when this room was yours?" "Aye, a cabinet full of quality scotch. Cannae go wrong with that." "Ah, I'm more of a beer guy but I guess you're not wrong."
"What ye doing?" Price looked down at his table again. Paperwork was stacked on it, it was overflowing. Some stacks were already lying on his floor. They distract him, it's nice.
"Just working through some papers. Annoying work but work that has to be done by someone." "Aye, can tell ye that. Paperwork doesn't do itself, sadly."
"You want a cigar, boy? I know you got hooked on them as captain, suffered the same fate back then." "Aye, why not, never one to not take a smoke. Roach always hated it when I smoked next to him and blew the smoke into his face on purpose at some point." Price laughed at that, turning in his chair to pull out a second cigar from his bag behind him.
"Hey, Price."
"Yeah, Johnny? What's up-"
"You didn't cause this."
"What?"
"You didn't cause this." He turned around looking at John actually looking at him for once. He was pale, his usually bright eyes dull. The blue that always seemed so comforting now stressing him out.
There was a loud noise outside his window something akin to a shot. He snapped his head over to it, standing up and grabbing his gun out of the holster "Soap, go-" When he turned his head to check on the Scot, he was gone.
"John? Johnny?" He looked around his room, gun still drawn. He walked towards the place where Soap stood a second ago, confused as to where the Scot could've possibly gone. "Fucking hell. Must've imagined that. Maybe I should sleep more." He put his gun back in his holster and sat down on his chair before taking a deep breath.
His room started to smell like gasoline. He tried to take more breaths out of his cigar filling the room with more smoke to cover the gasoline smell. Which didn't really help. Now it's just a smokey room that smells like gasoline and ash. The smoke was covering his vision a bit.
Maybe he should stop smoking. Roach always hated the smell and Ghost once told him it reminded him of some drug addict his brother was friends with. Gaz never spoke up and only Soap smoked with him. They were costly after all, maybe he can save up a bit of money to go on a nice leave.
He looked around his room, jumping a bit when he saw Gary sitting in the chair in the corner. The other laughed at him. "Sorry Son, didnt notice you there. Let me put out the cigar." Gary watched with slight panic as Price put out the cigar as if he was scared it would attack him.
"What's up, lad? What's going on in that brain of yours." 'Stomach hurts.' He was rubbing over the area, seemingly trying to soothe it. 'Body hurts. Dont know why. Annoying.' Gary signed, his hands shaking a bit. He noticed that some time ago, how when Gary is relaxed, his hands shake a bit. He wanted to bring it up but forgot to. He hopes the shaking doesn't hurt or bother Gary.
"That sucks. Did you get that checked out by the nurses? Maybe they can-"
"Hey, Price." He shut up at the sound of Gary's voice, something he hadn't heard in a while.
"You tried to stop it. I know."
"What- what's up with you guys, John was also saying-"
"Thank you Price. Really. I mean it." Gary looked like he was having trouble breathing, like the smoke around him, which wasn't even that much, had been burning him from the inside.
"Gary, are you okay? What are you talking about-"
"I've heard you, Price. You couldn't have stopped it. It was too late."
Gary was coughing aggressively as if he couldn't get any air at all. "Gary- Gary! Let me- wait-" He opened one of the windows, letting the smoky air leave into the dark night. He should’ve done that when Gary came in to not torture the other. Price was stupid. He ran over to his cabinet, pulling out a glass water bottle.
The other stopped coughing, he could hear that, but he couldn't hear any other noise, as if his entire world went quiet suddenly. He looked back, expecting Gary to sit in the chair and wait for him. There was nothing though. The only thing moving in his room was the smoke that slowly left and Price himself, no sign that Gary was there at all.
"Hey, Price. Are you okay?" He jumped. He was skittish today. Something is messing with him.
"Yeah, I'm okay, Simon. I'm just getting old. Seeing shit, thinking there are noises when there aren't any, you know. Old man shit." Simon let out a laugh, a sound that Price rarely heard but always appreciated. "You should retire, old man."
"So you can take my place as captain? No, thank you, though Captain Riley does have a ring to it." He put the water bottle back. "Wouldn't Soap get the position first?"
"No, not any more. When he got promoted he became captain because he killed a target, if I die now, you're going to be in command." "Unless I die first."
"Don't say that shit. I feel like a parent watching his sick child die whenever you say that." "Well to be fair, you do act like a dad sometimes-" "ey!" "And I'm not the healthiest." That made Price stop for a second.
"What do you mean? Are you broken?" He took a few steps towards Ghost, not touching him though. He looked pale as well, paler than usual, sicker than usual. Price hates it whenever his boys are sick or hurt, it makes his heart stop for a second.
"No, I don't think I'm broken. My chest hurts. Feels like I got shot or something. Fucking sucks." Price let out a laugh at that, Simon was always a bit dramatic when he was hurt. At least in private. "Maybe you're going into cardiac arrest? You're getting old yourself, Si." "Oh, come on now." Both laughed, Price closed his eyes as he enjoyed the moment a bit more.
"Hey, Price?"
"Yeah, what's up Sim-"
"There was no way to stop it" He looked up at Ghost with confusion.
"What do you mean? Stop wha-"
"Even if you told us it would have been too late"
"Simon? What the fuck are you talking about? All of you have been talking weird shit. I don't know what-"
"You did what you could, Price. That's more than enough." Simon was confusing him so much. No, his entire team was confusing him so much. Why are they being so cryptic?
"Simon, what are you-"
"Hey, Price?" He turned around, Kyle standing at his table, looking at the tiny quartz dragon on his table. A present from the other.
"Kyle, when did you- wait Simon-" Ghost was gone when he looked back, just like how the others suddenly disappeared.
"Sir, Ghost was never in the room-" "No, no he was, just a second ago. His chest was hurting and he was talking weird shit and-" "Maybe your age is catching up to you, Sir." "Oh shut up, Kyle." The other smiled in response. "You should drink something. Maybe it would help.” Price nodded, walking to the cabinet to take out a glass water bottle. "Maybe I should drink something as well. My head hurts." "Oh yeah? I can get you a glass, Son. Wouldn't want my sergeants in a bad condition."
"Then why did you let them kill me." He didn't look back at Kyle at those words, tightening his grip on the water bottle.
"What."
"Why did you let them kill me? Or Soap. Or Roach."
"Kyle, what are you-"
"Look at me."
He finally turned around, grip tightening as he saw blood flow from Kyle's nose.
"You're not dead."
"Price, I am. And so is Soap. And Roach. And Ghost." "No. No, no, no, no, no, you're not dead-"
"Price, I am." "I wouldn't let you die-"
"Price, I'm dead." "No, you're not-"
"It's not your fault." "No, you're alive."
"It's not you're fault, Price-"
He threw the bottle against the table where Kyle stood just a second ago, glass shards splattering all over the room. It was quiet in the room. Kyle was gone. So were Simon and Gary and John. They were gone. His back hit the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.
They are gone. He let them die. He let them die and they're gone. He grips his hair, pulling at it to maybe soothe the pain. His heart hurts, it feels heavy like it’s filled with lead and poison.
The door to his office opened. He doesn't look up. He doesn't want to see the next ghost that haunts him. There's a heavy sigh coming from that direction as if this isn't the first time this happened. He knows it's not. They've been plaguing him for months.
"You know it's not your fault, right John?" He looked up, seeing Laswell standing at the door. He scrambled to stand up, trying not to seem disrespectful to the superior. "Sit. Dont move. Keep sitting on the floor, John." He sat back down again, letting out a heavy sigh.
"It's not your fault." "I know-"
"It was bound to happen, it's the military, not a bakery."
"I know-" "I don't think you do." It was quiet between the two of them again.
"Please leave." "John-" "Please, I don't- I want to be alone right now."
"You're not going to drink yourself to a coma if I leave, will you?" "No. No, I won't, Laswell." She let out a defeated sigh. "We're going out tomorrow. You've been stuck in your room like it's a prison cell. You need fresh air-" "I opened the window."
"You need to go outside. We're going out tomorrow. Call me if you need anything, John. Sleep well."
He hummed. She closed the door, Price immediately opening the cabinet next to him to pull out a scotch he planned on giving to Johnny after the mission. He opened his first bottle of the night, trying to forget the sight of his team dead in his room.
Seeing them die was the worst thing he had seen. Living without him is the worst thing in his life.
He takes the first sip, tears rolling down his cheeks as he mourns the team that haunts him in his dreams.
He takes the last sip a few hours later, when the sun is coming up, as he mourns the family he’s never getting back.