Don't fear the reaper - Captain John Price

LXIV

The bright blue sky seemed endless as not even a single cloud was painted over the clear canvas. Rays of the sun were entering through every single door and the window they could knock on, just to bring warmth into the darkest room at the base. The steps of the soldiers were echoing in the empty, cold, endless corridors of the buildings as they were trying to finish another task on the list for the day. Day after another, the date on the lists would change, but the tasks stayed the same. Up until the day each of them would be deployed to the countries unseen on the world map, or unheard by the ears of the civilians.

The piles of paperwork were waiting for Price to come back into the walls of his dusty office with the first streams of the warm spring wind. Reports were mixed up with intel provided by Laswell for future missions, and personal files of the best SAS soldiers who could become new recruits of the Task Force. But, none of them could ever be Soap and Gaz. John was catching himself thinking about the future of 141, but only time could show how things could unfold in the future. Was it the end of the Task Force, or maybe the rebirth of it?  All the questions on the man's mind would be left unanswered for as long as the piles would still be collecting the dust on his desk.

"Already back from the honeymoon, captain?" Simon's large figure entered the room after a loud knock on a weak door. It seemed as if one more knock of the Lieutenant's strong hand could make the hole in the door, taking away the privacy of Price's office.

"Work is my honeymoon, Simon," A lonely cigar was sitting in between the rough fingers of the captain, as he looked over the man who decided to put an end to the peace of his own company. John kept his gaze on Riley as if trying to remember when was the last time the two men had a conversation in the walls of the office that was not related to work. The answer was simple, never.

"Oh, c'mon old man," Ghost let a hint of laughter escape from his side as all of his possible emotions were hidden by the dark material of the mask covering the man's face. The old chair creaked under the weight of the lieutenant, as the silence wrapped its arms around the two on the sunny afternoon of an early spring day. 

"How have you been holding up, son?" Finally, Price vocalized the phrase that had been going around his mind ever since Simon walked into his office on that day. Losing a friend is hard, losing a teammate is hard, and losing Johnny was hard to Riley, even if not even a single muscle on his face ever told about it. He always seemed the coldest, the most emotionless person in the room, but even the thinnest mask in Ghost's collection could hide a lot on his own face. 

"Been through worse. Back to training, sir," Riley raised his eyes at the captain, feeling the tension rise up in the air along with his tall figure. He looked at the old watch on the cracked wall. Lunch time was almost over, there was a lot of work the lieutenant had to come back to. At the end of the day, Price wasn't his therapist who could listen to everything that was on Simon's mind. Ghost wondered if the man could even hear his pain.

"Let's get a proper pint of good beer in the city, eh?" John looked over the piles that were resting on two sides of him. To go over every single page of the endless documents, would take Price a few sleepless nights. A sudden heat wave awoke the urge to get a refreshing drink before jumping into the pool of paperwork. And what can be more refreshing for the captain other than beer? Nothing else in the whole world.

"Can't say no to a pint, Price," For a split moment, John could've sworn that he noticed a hint of a rare smile appearing on Riley's face before disappearing out of his sight. Even if the phantom of emotion ran through the man's face, Simon escaped from the captain's office faster than any other question could fly into the air.

The pub was surprisingly crowded for the middle of the week. One after another, the drinks were leaving the bar to reach the table of the visitors who wanted the celebrate another day, drown their sorrow, or just turn down the heat with a chilled drink. The dark atmosphere of the pub and the crowd caught the attention of the two men on the warm evening. The furthest from anyone else table in the corner was the perfect opportunity for the two teammates to hide in the crowd of people. Loud conversations and laughter were traveling along the small pub away from the base. Everyone seemed to be busy with their own business that evening, leaving the two of them excluded from the celebration of life.

"Fucking delicious," John whispered to himself, as one sip after another, the refreshing cold beer disappeared from his lips. The fluffy white foam left a kiss on his mustaches, as the drink brought the long-awaited feeling of relaxation back into the captain's mind.

"Price?" The tall glass landed on the wooden surface of the shiny table. Drinks were flowing all around the room from the bar to the tables, replacing the empty glasses of beer, as the voices seemed to become louder with each sip of alcohol. Simon looked around, watching how every single person was busy with their own life. For the first time, Riley's voice was quieter than usual, as if with a hidden note of hesitation.

"What's bothering you, son?" Price placed aside his half-full glass of beer, letting the drink get warmer in the hot atmosphere of the pub as his attention shifted to Simon. Tiny drops were running a marathon down the tall glass, trying to reach the wooden surface of the table, as the concern was planted in the mind of the captain as he got used to the silence coming from Riley's side, ready to listen to anything a man decided to share with him.

"Does it ever get fucking easier?" The gaze of the brown eyes got lost in endless happy faces around the pub. A thick fabric of the luetant's mask was hiding his face from the whole world, but his deep brown eyes could scream about the pain Simon rarely shared with anyone else in the large, but lonely world we live in.

"No, Simon, it does not. It only gets harder every fucking time," There was no point in sugarcoating the truth. Price knew the bits of the man's past Riley wanted him to know, but never the whole picture. The pain of losing Johnny, Kyle, and everyone he ever worked with was sitting on the tip of the captain's tongue, and John knew that no amount of alcohol could ever drown the sadness and emptiness left by their passing.

Years were passing by. Simon was forgetting his years before joining the army, and SAS later, but his past would always be a part of him. Riley never had a father figure he could rely on. And now, after half of the team was buried deep in the ground, Price and Simon had no one to rely on other than each other on the whole, large and cold base. Trust is gained throughout the years of loyalty and hard work, and they had neither. The world is full of anti-heroes, who are constantly trying to write their name in world history and to change the story. And only a few, like John and Ghost are able to keep the world clean while having the blood mixed with dirt on their own hands.

"But, the ability to feel pain means you're still a human being, and not just a breathing creature," Price let his large hand land on the strong shoulder of a lieutenant, taking his attention away from the peaceful life outside of the window. A wordless promise was flying in the air between the two men. 141, as a task force was almost dead. They had no one but each other out on the battlefield, and the two men would look out for one another even with death breathing onto their necks.

"Everything felt meaningless and number ever since the incident," Simon whispered as if the words were escaping out of his mouth under someone's control. Every single person can hide the pain for years inside of their minds and hearts, but just like an overflowing boiling kettle, the water and thoughts have one fate – to escape out of their own bowl. Even for a strong man like Simon, such a moment sooner or later, could happen. "And now, this goddamned feeling is back."

"I want you to remember that you're not alone in all this shit, son," The voices in the pub were getting quieter, and the companies were gone to the dark streets of the city as the night fell onto the ground. Two beer glasses were getting warmer, as the hint of the fluffy white foam on the top of the malt drink disappeared. But, the warm feeling of understanding surrounded the two tough men at the furthest table of the pub.

"I appreciate it, sir," Finally, the gaze of Simon's eyes met with the captain's, letting the tired, cold, and distant mirrors of Riley's soul tell everything to the man with no words flying into the air. It is always hard to admit the struggle, especially for strong men who are fighting their whole life on their own. But, on that warm evening, the lieutenant knew, he wasn't alone in the dark world Johnny left him in.

"How many more years it would take you to remember my name, eh?" A soft smile sat on the edge of John's lips, as he reached for the tall glass, letting the malt drink drown all the sorrow that was hiding inside of the captain's mind.

Maybe, it was at the end of 141 as a Task Force which Price originally created with Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. But it was a new beginning for him and Simon.

A new beginning with the same, good-old mission: keeping this damned world clean.