Don't fear the reaper - Captain John Price

LXI

The lonely rays of the sun were trying to fight their way through the heavy gray clouds. The clouds were floating high above Hereford, bringing the darkness to the warm spring day. Warm wind was peaking up its pace, as the tall trees were swinging under its power. Spring was taking everything around the city into its own control. The soil was getting warmer, giving the seeds the power to turn into beautiful and strong plants. Once naked trees were getting their bright green clothes back.

The only place where nothing changed when the weather warmed up was the SAS base in Hereford. Dozen of the same-looking red-bricked buildings were standing still in any weather. In the coldest wind of winter, or in the summer heat. Cars were moving in and out of the base, as the day of some administrative officers was nearing its end. The training facility was occupied by the soldiers who were getting ready to join another mission in the unknown land. The rooms of the hospital at the base were full of those who just came back, or were unlucky to get an injury before even leaving the base. Life in the building could never change with the peaceful silence in the air.

Up north from the base, hidden in the old tall trees the cemetery kept the memory of the fallen soldiers forever. Not so far away from the cemetery, the residential houses were keeping the laughter of the children in the warm walls of the two-story buildings. The cycle of life was still going on. Some people would never see the light of tomorrow day, while others would be introduced to the dark world we all live in. The tall fence of the trees kept the cemetery away from the curious eyes of the passengers of the cars that were passing by along the narrow asphalted road. The old St. Martin Church stood above the rows of the tombstones. There were no pictures of the saints on the cathedral glass. The Christian cross was painted over the SAS enigma on the tall, thin windows of the church. The fallen ones were not looking for God anymore. Maybe, the men and women who were at war with the whole world were never looking for savoir but believed that the weapon in their hands was the only savior in this world. The line between good and evil was visible to every single person, even to the evilest anti-hero. Sometimes, the only way to stop evil is to bring the death to the anti-hero of another story with the hands of a woman or a man. But, the price for the world peace was too high. Only a few of the ones whose names were written over the tombstones died because of the old age. Every single one of them fell for their country, believing that they do the right thing and keep the world clean.

Fallen soldiers were finding their final rest next to the base they called home once. And one of them was Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. The sergeant's name joined hundreds of names on the stonewall of the memorial at the cemetery. It felt as if even nature remained quiet when the three pairs of steps echoed through the quietness of the place. The flowers were growing next to faceless tombstones, blooming the life even from death. Kyle's name board was right next to his teammate, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. The two sergeants were too young to die and had their whole life waiting in front of them to experience, but their fate is in the hands of the reaper, waiting to strike at the most unexpected moment.

"Hello Johhny," The hood of the dark jacket was covering Simon's head, while the material of his mask kept all the possible emotions that could be written over the lieutenant's face hidden from anyone else in the world. His brown eyes held all the pain Riley went through in his life, as the gaze of the man shifted to another stone of his teammates. It felt as if just yesterday the two of them were having a conversation before the mission, and now Garrick was dead too. "Kyle."

Simon never looked for friends or even mates in the army. His childhood was way too complicated, to let him open up to someone else. But, Ghost couldn't ignore the bond he and Soap formed over the missions. The two found the brotherhood in the field where people find the traumas. There was something sharp pain inside of the man's chest, as he looked over Johnny's name once again.

"Sergeants," Price's voice was unusually quiet as his eyes looked around the cemetery.

He was almost in his 40s, and throughout the years of his career in SAS John was certain that his body would be in the ground first out of all men of 141. But, he was wrong. The captain looked at the names of the sergeants he fought shoulder to shoulder with throughout the years, at any place on the Earth. Losing his teammates was hard, and even with the years passing by, with Price's heart becoming harder for everyone and everything in the world, he could never get used to it. Another reason for the demons in his mind to play games with the man, bringing nightmares to him every other night of the memories he would pay any amount of money to forget about. But, it was a part of life. People come and go out of this world, and everything we are left with is endless pain. 

"Hi boys," Amelia whispered, feeling the choking feeling of hot tears taking her over. The wound in her soul over losing MacTavish will always stay fresh in her heart. Time heals, but it never gets easier.

No one knew Knight better than Johnny, not even her own sister. The hot tears were flowing down her cheeks, and the woman couldn't even make any sound choking on the pain that was taking her over from the inside. A brunette lowered in front of the memorial wall, placing the bouquet of heathers and thistles that were symbolic for Scotland. The two empty concrete flower vases were full of the colors of life next to the names of the fallen soldiers. Crystal white lilies found their place in the vase next to Kyle's name. A part of the woman's mind still couldn't accept the fact that Garrick was gone. Everything felt so estranged, as if it could be another joke of Soap, and he with Kyle would jump out of the nearest bush. But, life was harsher than this.

A brunette took a few steps back, leaving space for the two men to mourn over their fallen teammates. The cold wind was playing with the slightly open jacket of the captain, when he watched over his shoulder, making sure the officer was still there. John's hand reached back for her, finding the warmth of the Knight's palm in his. Price wanted her to be included, after all, even for the short time she was still a part of the team.

John never felt that he would fit into the roles of a caring lover, an attentive husband, or a good father. There was nothing more important than the duty to the captain. Price was in the hottest areas of the world, walking into the rooms some soldiers would never go in. But, the more often he faced the reaper and death, the more the captain thought about the future. The future which was an illusion of something that might never come to reality. Life was changing, the world was a different place from the one where John grew up. Years were passing by, and the thoughts of retirement and hints from the higher-ups sitting in their big, comfortable chairs were getting into the captain's ears. Maybe, John wasn't a good person, but at least he tried. The graying hair of the man was hidden under the dark hat sitting on his head. Price looked back at Amelia, as the wind dried down the tears off her cheeks. Maybe this time, Price had a reason to try to be a person he would never be. 

"Sleep easy, Sergeants," The captain took a deep breath, fighting with the sharp feeling of pain in his mind. John looked at the two people he was surrounded with, knowing there was no one else he could trust in the harshness of the modern world.

Thank you for 8k, it is insane!!! Sending you all looooots of love