Disavowed: A Call of Duty Fanfiction

Chapter 4: Trist

.:WARNING:. sexually explicit material. Look for the "--" at the beginning and end of the scene to skip.

John's eyes opened a few weeks later to the sound of a phone going off in the neighboring room. There was muffled conversation and then shuffling. He sat up, pulling on his trousers and reaching for a shirt. He was about to knock on Jessica's door but she opened it and they both stammered in surprise. "Who was that on the phone?" he asked.

She couldn't help her gaze sliding down his muscular torso, then snapped them back up to his eyes before they lingered too long. "Your best friend," she teased with an uneasy grin. "He wants me to meet his pilot in Samara so he can take me to wherever he's at."

He cocked a brow. "Do you want Yuri and me to come with you?"

"No," she said. "His pilot will get suspicious, and if we kill him and the guards I'm sure Makarov has sent with him, we won't be able to find him. If I need you, I'll call you, but for now, let me go alone and I'll see what I can find out from him."

As she went to brush past him he stopped her. "Are you sure?"

Jessica didn't look at him at first but then turned her hazel eyes up to his face. "Positive. Please, let me do this, and I promise I'll come back in one peace," she said.

"When will you be back?"

She took out her phone. "I don't know. But Soap and I had a code for when I needed to come home. If I text you a message without punctuation, it means I'm fine and don't need an evac. If I end a text with a period, it means I'm ready to come home; an exclamation point means I need extraction asap," she said, scrolling through the texts she had sent Soap.

Price sighed heavily and nodded. "Alright. Be safe."

Jessica squeezed his hand. "I will, I promise."

Vladimir threw open the door as she landed in the driveway of his estate. He ran out to her and, before her feet could touch the ground, scooped her up in a hug, burying his face in her neck. Sasha wrapped her arms around him, her fingers hooking into his back and shoulder.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said, setting her down and kissing her forehead.

She grabbed his hand, walking with him inside. "Me, too," she said.

He shooed the guards and pilot away and walked her in through the front door. "It's been a little while, how have you been?" he asked,

"I've been... Alright," she replied, looking around timidly, pushing down the memories of what had happened there only weeks before. "It's been hard..."

"I'm sure." He went into the kitchen to the left of the entry and searched through the cabinets. "Would you like something to drink? I've got vodka, whiskey, tequila..."

She shook her head. "No, thank you, Vladimir," she said, catching herself and shaking her head when she spoke Russian mid-sentence. "I don't need a drink."

Vladimir noticed a sad look on her face and came back to her, tilting her chin up with his fingertips so she would look at him. He didn't say anything- he couldn't- but instead pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a deep breath. They were both still for a long moment before he moved his head to her left shoulder and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. "Did you ever notice," he asked quietly. "That when you hug someone and put your heads on each other's left shoulder, your hearts overlap?"

Sasha scoffed. "No, I suppose I didn't," she said.

He looked her neck up and down before kissing it. "I did," he whispered. "I thought it was kind of romantic."