Ghosts & Mirages-18+ Smut Series

5: Cherished Spirits (1/2)

"Don't like it black?" Price spoke up, ripping you from the tendrils of the memory. "Got some bourbon if you wanna spice it up."

Smiling a bit, you sat down in your seat and took a slow sip, tasting just a hint of sugar. "That's against the rules, Captain."

"Hmm," He smirked just a bit, eyes occupied on uniform words on paper. "Not in my office."

What started over a simple cup of coffee and an hour of chatter lead to the next few evenings spent in his office, making you become an unofficial companion while he sorted reports and filed paperwork. He ended up being right in the end, your talkative nature peeking through as you two spoke of life and silly misadventures, which he was more than glad to share just to laugh at the twisted expressions on your face.

He even showed you what your official file looked like after a long discussion on why he named the task force it's given name. Looking at the printed photo on the first page had you feeling strange: It was you of course, a bit younger and a lot more wide eyed to the world, holding too many high hopes over promises you wish could've come true. You read over your name, your given expertise, and your summarized paragraphs of what you've accomplished to get where you were now.

It was so odd seeing your face without your given scar, a small, constant reminder to not be so hard on the woman you once were for your own personal sake. You worked so hard to get here, you owed her that much to keep on going.

As the clock reached a quarter past five on Sunday, you asked Price what reports he was working on this time to break the momentary silence. He tilts his head and was prepared to answer, only to repeat the words he just read while running his pen along the sentence, almost forgetting what you asked.

"Oh, Drug bust. Bloody muppets smuggling bombs alongside some of the usual substances."

"Ah." You leaned your head back, looking towards the ceiling fan for the hundredth time. "I think they might remove my stitches on Monday."

"That good- "

"But I was wondering if there was an upcoming briefing perhaps, maybe a mission out on-"

"No," His tone grew quite firm instantly. "That's out of the question."

Sitting up, you frowned at the man, despite him either not meeting your gaze, or not caring to.

"No offense John, but what good am I if I'm stuck here doing nothing?" You gestured your hands up, setting them down on your lap with a small groan. "It barely hurts now, I can still hold a gun."

"Yet can you run when things get intense? I can tell it's you comin' down the hall from all the shuffling since day one." He tapped his pen against the desk, gesturing towards your leg.

"The greatest thing you can do right now is takin' care of yourself, I can't have you running around at risk for more injuries, otherwise I'll never hear the end of it from the others." He'd glance up at you every now and then, making sure to keep that fair amount of eye contact so you were aware he was listening.

"Why the others?"

"They're worried, believe it or not," Price sat forward after closing a file, setting his elbows on the table. "Just like I am."

You tilted your head, keeping your folded arms settled over your lap, crossing your legs in your seat.

"No no, don't look at me like that. You're here now but before, you've kept to yourself, you barely eat. Space is important, I understand that, but too much of it can do more harm than good."

"At least I'm here now." You reached to your coffee cup, taking a sip of the lukewarm, lightly sweetened beverage. "That's usually what matters." You stared down at your half empty cup, your coffee revealing to you your own reflection from the abyss at the bottom of the mug.