keep me breathing - john price x oc

10. january rain

Present

8 weeks later

Not much had been happening. No news about Makarov's whereabouts had been found, as if he had completely disappeared from the face of the earth following the events in the tunnel. It wasn't really raising any suspicion, as everyone expected this to happen. It was about catching small details and making connections, but if Kate couldn't make those, who could? You sat together going over news sometimes, but nothing seemed to be of any relevance to what you were after.

One evening, Kate brought her wife over for a dinner with everyone. It was nice; for once, missions and tactics seemed to be very far away that night.

Everyone had stayed with you and John over the weeks, it created a sort of atmosphere like a real family temporarily living in your home. Farah assured you several times that she trusted her next in command with everything, so you shouldn't worry about her problems. She repeated that she owed the Captain her life and made it her own mission to avenge a fallen brother.

Gaz had gone home for a while to see his mother, while Alex had continuously insisted that they all take a hotel or something to get out of your house. But to you, that was absolutely no option. Your house was big enough to have them stay; it was one of the compromises you had to make with John. He needed the place to be big enough in case of an emergency - assured you it would never be a safe house - but of course you knew that wasn't true. The man was military through and through, it would follow him everywhere, even into his own four walls.

In order to keep up with everyone, you had promised John to continue physical and combat training. You agreed; it was necessary if you planned to go back in the field. You needed to be ready for whatever was about to come.

Your last training session ended, and you were fleeing from a heavy rain shower down into the tube. Your bones were aching; the trainer didn't go easy on you anymore. It had been weeks, and you were doing physical and combat training almost every day. Sometimes Ghost was there to help you. You didn't ask him for it; he just appeared and helped as if it was his favourite thing in the world. Maybe he was missing the action; you didn't know for sure.

Since you thought you'd pick up a few things for the big family back home, you decided to make a stop at Piccadilly—buying an umbrella being the first thing on your list—and some of your favourite sweets from a bakery. You got off the train with your phone in your hands, texting John that you would be home a bit later. You looked up, searching for the least crowded way to get out, when you spotted something.

Someone.

Your blood froze.

Was exhaustion finally playing your mind a dirty trick?

Were you dreaming?

You blinked.

Maybe you should have got more sleep.

You stared at a man a few meters away, with a thick bandage around his head, hidden underneath a beanie, but it was still quite noticeable.

It could have been any other person.

But, no. You blinked again, once, twice, he was still there.

You'd recognize that profile anywhere.

You pushed through the crowd with haste, not paying any mind to anything around you, as if the person might disappear if you blinked again. People shouted at you, some threw insults your way as you squeezed past them, but you didn't care. You didn't stop until you were standing right in front of him.

"Soap?" Your voice was shaky, but you stepped closer to tap the man on his shoulder.

He turned around, in the process of putting earphones on. "I'm sorry, miss, I think you have mistaken me." It was him. It was his voice, his face, his beard, his eyes, his nose.