A Living Shield (John Price x OC/Reader slowburn)

37.5) Everything Comes At a Price

[Author's note: forgot to mention in the last chapter that I'm uploading the chapters onto ao3 now as well! Same authors name and 'book' name in case you all like reading more there!]

[Song 🎵: Wrong Side of Heaven - Five Finger Death Punch 🔂]

The evening sun, that filtered through the lattices in front of the window, had lowered itself steadily for the past hour and a half. Shades of orange and pink  painting the sky, visible through the slats.

Price didn't take note of it while he sat at his desk. If you'd asked him, it all looked the same colour to him. Dull shades of grey. A mirror to the mood that hung over him.

One that hadn't let up ever since he'd made it back with heavy feet from your last mission. Exhausted both physically and mentally. A mission that'd brought pure catastrophe to the surface, tormenting his thoughts every waking moment, making him unable to focus on anything that mattered. To eventually make it into his dreams, or rather nightmares, for the last two nights.

He was never one to dream much or extensively, probably why he usually slept so soundly and deeply. But the words he'd carelessly flung at you in that forest, they haunted him all the way into his sleep. The edge to his own voice horrifying, a version of himself he never wanted to be. The scene resetting over and over, from angles he wasn't even a part of, but every time showing the harrowing moment he saw the break in your eyes. One that he inevitably caused. Right before they lost all colour and turned lifeless as they regarded him. It was the most heartbreaking thing he'd ever witnessed and with every loop of that neverending agonising memory, the hurt that gathered within him seemed to choke him from the inside out. His legs refusing to move towards you, his hands stuck at his sides, unable to reach out.

To somehow get to you and soothe both his and your ache.

The nightmare always ended the same way. His regret and pain so feral, it felt like it was hunting him through that same dark forest like a wounded animal. The will to fight back at his own misery, nowhere to be found. Like he lost to it on purpose, leaving him bloodied and broken on his knees in the mud. You dead-eyed in front of him, aiming his own gun at his head as it hung defeated. Waiting for the blow. Right before his consciousness woke him up violently. His body still intact, but drenched in cold sweat, heaving in desperate need for oxygen.

The way it all went down was the worst possible outcome he could've thought of when it came to distancing himself from you, yet at the same time he hadn't had high hopes it would go any differently. It hadn't been his intention to be so horrible, but he knew if he had been too soft, too honest, you wouldn't have backed off. You'd have kept trying, wurming your way back to him somehow. Stubbornly holding on like you always did. And you would have been victim to the unavoidable consequences.

Price had just hoped that it wouldn't have ended so painfully. So definitive.

Anger and distress battled for dominance, the papers under his fists crumpling slightly. Files he couldn't focus on right now. Shoving them away from himself, he leaned back into his office chair, an elbow on one of the rests. A hand came up to cover his face, like he needed to shield himself from getting sucked back into a spiral.

It wasn't like he wanted any of this. If he'd had a choice over the situation, he wouldn't have said any of it. All of those vile words he couldn't take back. He wasn't even sure what he would have done, but the outcome would have been wildly different, that much he knew. If he was free to act as he liked, he would have barged into your room by now and held your face so he could look you in the eye while he apologised profusely. Knowing that it would never be nearly enough to make up for what he'd said.

Because above all, Price knew he wanted you near. Needed you to see him in a way no one else was allowed to, not just as a superior. He wasn't daft, he could read between his own lines, even if he was ignoring all feeling towards you for his own sake. Cause as much as he wanted to be selfish and hoard you all to himself, he couldn't.