A Price To Be Paid (John Proudstar)

Help Me Be Quiet

That morning was a somber one. I quickly slipped on the jeans and ripped tee John had brought me, and started to make my way through the building. I wandered around, watching as a group gathered together, John in the center. He looked like an exhausted mess. He must have been up all night. I felt guilty not seeing it earlier. Watching him closely, I could tell that his emotions had returned in full force. Even with his heart splintering, he led a group up the front staircase, and out the main entrance.

I fought my desire to help them, knowing they'd have to face this eventually, and started in the opposite direction. I ended up back in my room, slumped against the wall. The bank was beginning to take its toll on me. I didn't know how long I could stick around, if I couldn't even take a relaxed breath.

I looked around the room at all the random office supplies. The desire to help with something made me jump up. Before I knew what I was doing, I had the desks in rows, and had started moving lamps alongside each one.

"What's this? It's looking good in here." John stated in a soft tone from behind me.

I jumped and turned towards him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Peyton." He said as he leaned against one of the desks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

I looked him over. In that moment, he appeared to be in a grief stricken trance. It was evident he had been crying, his eyes red and swollen. All I wanted to do was take his pain away, but I held back. Instead, I tried to ignore it, against my better judgement, simply responding to his question.

"There isn't much to do around here, but wait. I didn't want to waste anymore time, so I thought I'd try to do something helpful. The desks are just long enough for a bed. Maybe if you guys do a supply run, you could find more mats. If that's even possible." I stated, standing before him.

John nodded and looked around the room, saying, "Is it alright if we bring some of the refugees in here today? We're doing a run in a day or two, and I will get some mats if I can find them. You want the couch, right?"

I grinned, saying, "Yeah, go right ahead. I don't mind... uh, I don't need the couch. I was going to go through the offices, and try and make up a few more beds like these, then figure something else out."

John shook his head as he grumbled, leaning in close to me, "I'll help you. I need the distraction... And you deserve the couch..."

He stood to head out of the office, but I moved in front of him, putting a hand on his arm. He stopped, glanced at the ceiling, before finally looking me in the eye with those sad, dark eyes. I could sense the deep pain he was in. He began to shake his head, and pulled me to his chest. I froze for a moment, trying to take in what was happening.

I gently wrapped my arms around him, as I whispered, "I'm sorry. I want you to know, you've got so many people who love you. I know you can get through this."

He dropped his lips to my neck. He held me closer, making me lose my breath. He suddenly released me, and tried to step away again.

I held onto him and took a deep breath. I looked him in the eye, and whispered, "You are so much stronger than me, literally and figuratively, but if you need anything..."

He smiled weakly as he patted me gently on the cheek, and started out of the office.

-----

"Let me get that," John muttered as he walked in front of me, lifting the desk I had been dragging. He did so effortlessly, mind you.

"Damn," I whispered, watching him carry it around like it was made of Styrofoam. "I was going to put it by that far wall..."

John and I put the room together in fifteen minutes. It was a lot easier when one of us could carry three of the large desks all at once.