Don't fear the reaper - Captain John Price

V

The dim light was escaping out of the room along with the soft voices. Evening fell on the base with the silence in the long corridors, as the majority of the soldiers preferred to rest after long days of training, learning, and endless tasks. The common areas were full of people, while the furthest places were quiet and dark with the reflection of the shining moon entering through the windows into the ghosted rooms.

The tired metal of a stool squeaked when a brunette shifted her weight on it, trying to see every little piece of sharp glass that was stuck in the captain's hand. Quiet hissing sounds were escaping out of the man's lips, when another piece was taken out from the depth of the soft skin of his palm. The smell of the rubbing alcohol was flying in the air, mixing up with the smell of the cigar and musk of Price's body.

"You're lucky, Price. Looks like it didn't get that deep," Amelia moved aside for a moment, grabbing another pair of tweezers to catch the largest piece of glass she had seen so far. When seeing a man's palm for the first time, a woman wondered if her evening would become even longer with the possibility of the stitches over the wounds. But, a surprise was written all over her mind as every single wound was not as deep as it seemed at first.

"Damn it, this was painful," John whispered to himself, admitting the pain of the whole process out loud. No matter how long in his life the captain was tortured, wounded, or even shot at, the physical pain was the only pain that could take over the man. There were places on his body that were adapted to pain better than the others, but not the palm of Price's hand.

"Bet breaking a glass with your hand was painful too," A brunette let her eyes travel upwards to the face of the man for a quick moment, before coming back to the little mission she had in front of her face. Trying to focus on the hand of the man, Knight noted to herself how bright the blue eyes of the man were in the dim light of the medical office. 

"In a wave of anger you don't feel much," The man let a thin smile appear on his face as he caught a look of the brown eyes on him. There was something comforting yet so estranged in the air for the both of them. Tissues with blood over the white material were lying on the hardwood desk, as one after another piece of glass landed on a dish out of the Price's skin.

"What got you to the tipping point, Captain?" A woman looked over another discovered piece, understanding that the silence wouldn't make the whole process go faster. But to her own surprise, there was no pressure in the air as the most stubborn man in the whole base patiently waited for everything to come to an end.

"Unfinished business," The captain felt the well-known wave of anger building up somewhere deeper inside Price's thoughts and feelings as the whole picture appeared in front of his eyes. Every time he couldn't get closer to Makarov John's anger was reaching unknown levels even to himself. But, there was nothing written over his face for anyone around to see. No matter how bad the storm inside of the captain's mind was, his actions and thoughts were always cold and focused. 

There was nothing but silence in the medical office for a moment. The loud sound of the tweezers landing somewhere Price couldn't see was the only noise on the cold winter evening. Knight walked to the other side of the room, opening one drawer after another of the medical cabinet. Endless little bottles of liquid, pills, and powder for every type of physical trauma were hiding in the deep drawers. Amelia knew quite well how to handle the wounds, traumas, and most of the physical injuries, but even in the deeper drawer inside of her soul a woman was hiding her scars that were not seen on the fragile skin.

"You don't have to do this, love. I've broken a goddamn glass, I can put a bandage over it myself," Price got up from the chair trying to protest. The whole situation was going on for way too long to his liking. The clock was annoyingly ticking from the wall as if it reminded the two of how late it was. The man wasn't planning to spend his whole evening over a careless act or wasting someone's time because of it.

"Accept the fact that someone already takes care of this, sir," After sitting for a long time, a brunette was happy to stand even for just a moment. The tickling feeling of the thousand needles against the skin of her legs was running along the areas that were staying in the same place for too long.

"And who takes care of you, eh?" The captain watched alcohol run inside of the wounds over his palm, as his jaw clenched over the burning feeling. The soft and warm breath of her was traveling over the skin of the captain, as Amelia tried to ease the pain while antiseptic was doing its magic. 

"I prefer to take care, not to be taken care of," Finally, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol landed on the desk. The deep blue eyes were looking at the brunette who was noticeably shorter than the captain. Finally, the gaze of brown eyes traveled upward as the words escaped into the air out of her mouth.

"What a little liar you are, Lia," John chuckled, not expecting to hear anything else. Usually, people who were taking care of everyone around them were never taken care of by someone else. One thought after another was vocalized out of the captain's thoughts. "All of us like to be taken care of."

Suddenly, the silence fell on the office along with the bandage on the broken skin of the captain's hand. There was nothing Amelia could add, and there was no reason to protest because they both knew that John was right on the cold evening. Human beings are easy, but they pretend to be so complicated. Even the toughest person in the room, somewhere deep inside likes to be taken of, to be thought of by someone else. Price was living his life on his own. With nothing more important in the captain's life than the duty to his country. Throughout the years John would choose the work over anything, even over his own self. Amelia, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of the man. Despite helping people and their injuries, a brunette always knew how to choose herself over anything in the world. Committing sacrifices in her life over someone else never paid out in the woman's fortune and only taught one of the hardest lessons life can give.  

"There you go, hopefully, it will heal fast enough for you not to take care of unfinished business," The tight material of the bandage was hugging the palm of Price's hand as the cold fingers were softly touching the rough skin. Knight inspected the bandage, making sure it wasn't too tight before finally tying the bandage close.

"I owe you a big one after this, dove. Thank you," Gaze of blue eyes of the captain landed on the clock, before shifting back to his hand. But this time, the feeling of anger was replaced with a wave of calmness in the man's mind. There was no visible reminder of his anger, but instead of a moment of care. John let his eyes meet in eye contact with the brown on the other side of the room. It seemed that the two were looking at each other for way too long in complete silence as if the words had to escape from either of the sides at any moment. A brunette looked over the desk, finally ready to end the long day.

"Goodnight, Captain Price," One step after another, a woman walked closer to the captain, but only to let herself out of the room. Spending the whole day surrounded by the same four walls could make anyone go insane. 

A warm, but noticeable smile was over Amelia's face, as she looked at Price once more, before escaping into the quietness of the corridor. The door creaked as it opened, and a surprising feeling appeared in her head as the usual heavy feeling in the palm of her hand quickly changed with the sudden lightness. The uninjured hand of the captain held the door for the both of them, as his heavy boot stepped on the cold concrete floor.

"Goodnight, Amelia," John was getting used to the feeling of tightness around his hand, as the bandage reminded the captain of an injury. At the very same moment, the feeling of anger was taken over by the feeling of regret over the impulsive action. But, there was no turning back and no reason to feel distress over his own actions.

Legs of the two were taking them in completely opposite directions as if they were two parallel lines that were never meant to meet at any other point. But little did any of them know, that it was just the point of the beginning instead of an interception.