"...I was gawky and she was gorgeous [...] I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating [...] If people were rain, I was drizzle and she was [a] hurricane." -John Green, Looking for Alaska

His eyes snapped open again as a jolt ran down his back. The gunshots, the explosion... God, he could still hear her screaming his name as Zakhaev sprayed his brains across the pavement. Price covered his eyes with his arm and sighed miserably. He was fighting every nerve in his body not to look at the clock but lost the struggle when he rolled to his side and saw the red glow of 03:46 on its face. 

Unable to drift off again, he stood up; maybe a splash of cool water would help him unwind. As he ran the water over his skin, he looked into the mirror. 

"NO! GAZ! GAZ!"

He blinked and the memory was gone. As the cold of the water crept into his hands, John quickly turned off the tap and dried his face, listening to the stillness of the house. "It's fine... I'm fine." He lazy tossed the towel over the edge of the sink and meandered back to bed, flopping back down and staring at the ceiling. His eyes closed and soon, he could feel him felt drifting, floating away and a rolling wave of slumber.

Quiet conversation.

A laugh.

Warmth.

A kiss.

Not from him...

John started awake again. He could still see Gaz holding Jess in his arms, and the painful stab of regret he had felt when he saw them together. The ache in his chest felt crushing and he rolled over, burying his head under a pillow. This time, he grasped sleep around its neck like it was a serpent, and wrestled with its strong, writhing body as it spat venomous dreams into his eyes. 

She pulled at his shirt, her nimble fingertips tracing the definitions in his back. Her murmurs were soft and warm in his ear. As he reached out to touch her face, to pull her mouth closer to his, a wall of glass separated them and he beat against it frantically and he was pushed further and further away from her. She held up the pistol, pressing it longingly to her chest and she turned away, calling out Gaz's name as she began to fade away. John couldn't fight hard enough or run fast enough to catch her, and he reached out in a futile attempt to bring her back to him.

The alarm went off.

He crushed the clock under his fist, his dark-rimmed eyes staring up at the ceiling again. John groaned as he sat up, already drained from such little movement. "Damn..." This was about to be a long day.

In the house next door, Jessica was pressing the snooze button. "Just fifteen more minutes..." She grumbled softly and pulled the covers higher under her chin. Sleep had eluded her until the wee hours of the morning, and now she was clinging tightly to it, begging for just a few more of its butterfly kisses on her eyes. For some reason, she couldn't push the look on John's face out of her head. He saw the inscription and froze as if someone had hit him. And that look of pity in his eyes... 

Why did she care? It's not like Price hadn't known they were together. And what sweat was it off her head if he felt bad for her? She wasn't responsible for how he felt; it was her in the situation, after all. She was the one who had to deal with Gaz being gone. Not him.

Yeah.

Why did she care at all?

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

With an aggravated moan, she reached out, blindly groping for the button atop the clock. It continued to chirp irksomely and she finally sat upright to strangle it into silence. She set it back on her nightstand and rubbed her tired eyes, silently hoping work wouldn't be too rough.

Training, in fact, ended early that day. When they returned from the field training exercise, Price leaned against the wall of the obstacle course across from Hangar One. Jess turned around and cautiously approached him. "Long night, sir?"

He opened his eyes and forced a grin. "You could say that." He stifled a yawn and looked into the distance. "You were lagging a little today, did you spend all night wrestling with sleep, too?"

"You could say that," she echoed. She sighed and leaned against the wall beside him. "Just couldn't get comfortable, or did you have something on your mind?"

"Yeah, I had you on my mind..." He pushed the thought away. "It was just some strange dreams, nothing that should have kept me up."

She hummed and noticed his expression harden. "What were you dreaming about?"

He cast a side glance in her direction and scoffed. "Nothing fun, if that's what you were hoping."

"I didn't expect anything fun, I just know what it's like to have dreams that keep you awake. It's rare I ever have a night where I don't dream, and they're not always very pleasant." She folded her arms. "I just figured since you're kind enough to listen to me, if you wanted to talk about it, I wouldn't mind listening to you."

His steely blue eyes focused keenly on her and though she wasn't looking back at him, he had the strangest feeling she was still watching him. A grin pulled at his mouth. "That's sweet of you..." His gaze fell to the ground, a defensiveness taking him over before he continued softly. "But..."

"Hey, Gal!" Ghost was standing a short distance away. "Roach and I are heading to the pub; you joining us?"

She made a friendly smile and shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. "I was thinking about going home and taking a nap..."

Roach pouted. "Ah, boring..."

Her jaw stiffened and she pursed her lips. "... I suppose a drink or two might help me unwind."

"Excellent! Drinks are on me." Roach laid his arm over her shoulders, leaning his weight on her as she braced against him. "Price, will you be joining us?"

He gave Jessica a humoured smile when she tilted her head at him. "Unlike you, I actually have willpower; I'm heading home and catching up on some rest." He laughed as he started away. "You all enjoy your evening at the pub; I still expect to see you in the morning, so don't get too wild, eh?"

"No promises." She grunted when Roach elbowed her in the ribs and she made a twisted smile.

Ghost saluted. "Aye, sir. We'll keep it to a dull roar." He pulled out his eyes and jingled them playfully. "Come on, mates. Let's go have responsible fun."

Soap popped the caps off two bottles and passed Price a stout, taking a seat on a chair on his front porch. "So what were you dreamin' about all night?"

Price took a sip of his drink. "Just some past stuff... Russia and all that..." 

The Lieutenant nodded and took a sip of his own drink. "Had a few of those lately, too. Wish I had some advice for ya, mate, but I'm not the man to talk to."

"Fat lot of help you are." Price laughed, quietly looking out into the street. "... Actually, there was something else keeping me up. Gaz's pistol... He had it sent in for modifications, you remember?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, apparently the only real modification he got was the slide." He held the bottle close to his lips, hesitating as he debated whether or not to bring up the inscription. "I think he was going to use it to propose to Jess..."

Soap's eyes were wide. "Were they even an item?"

Price nodded and took a swig. "I advised against it, but he took his chances anyway, and I suppose they were really getting along."

"Wow..." He leaned back in his chair, rolling his bottle on its arm. "That's crazy... But why did that keep you up? I mean, if anythin', it's horribly sad, but nothin' to lose sleep over."

The Captain sighed. "... If I tell you why, you can't tell anyone else, you understand?" Soap nodded eagerly, and John sucked in a deep, steadying breath to explain.

CLACK! 

Roach wiped a stray dribble of vodka from his lips and snickered at Jess. "Look at you being all responsible over there."

She furrowed her brow as she took a sip from her water glass. "I'm just starting slow."

"It's not like you're the designated driver." Ghost set a shot glass of his own on the table. "C'mon, have a drink!"

"Says the same guy who just downed a shot." She scoffed and rolled her eyes shut. "But I'm torn, do I get shots or a cocktail?"

Ghost guffawed, taking a seat beside her. "Go big or go home, mate, drink all the shots!"

She wetted her lips and looked at the options lined up on the wall. The server walked by and she waved him down. "Can I get a shot of Black Velvet?"

Roach raised a hand. "Make that two."

"Three." The server walked away and Ghost looked back at her. "Apple whiskey?"

"It's one of my favorites." Jessica tucked the menu on the table into the condiment caddy, eyes lingering on the names of the stouts printed on it. "Though, if I'm not having shots, I do enjoy a nice chocolate stout."

He smiled from under his mask. "Hm. Sweet..."

"Oh?"

"Just saying I'd peg you as the type to like sweet drinks." His brown eyes were narrowed, almost as if he were challenging her, noting her composure becoming excited. The waiter returned and he picked up a shot, raising it in silent cheers and knocked it back.

CLACK.

He was surprised that she downed it just as fast as him. "So you do know how to drink..."

"What made you think I didn't?"

"You were sipping on water, mate." Roach chuckled and tipped his own glass into his mouth. 

She shook her head with a humoured grin. "I've drank plenty in my lifetime, I just know water wards off hangovers."

He motioned to the server for another round and settled back into his seat. "Then you've been drinking wrong."

"Yeah, if you want a proper night of drinking, you knock 'em back until you black out. No way to prevent the hangover in the morning, but it's fantastic until then." Ghost picked up another glass and met eyes with her as they guzzled their shots together.

Roach cocked a brow at him. "You think the Captain would be mad if we pushed her limits?"

"You guys want to get me black-out drunk?" She laughed and motioned to the server again.

"No black-out, per se," replied Roach. "But at least lubricated."

CLACK.

She licked her lips and snarled up one side of her mouth in a smile. "Alright, let's do it..."

Roach had stopped long before, but Ghost and Jess were laying down their sixth shot. He was giggling, his balaclava sitting disheveled on his face. Jessica pushed her glass away and leaned back in her chair.

"I'll give you this much, you put 'em away like chord wood." Ghost rolled up his mask and reached for his water, missing his lips at first and sending a stream down his shirt.

She leaned across the table toward him. "I told you, I've been drinking for a while. I've had some years of practice."

"How many years is a while?" asked Roach.

Jessica looked at her hands, lifting one finger at a time as she counted off the years. "Three..."

"That's it?"

"Hundred."

Ghost sat bolt upright. "You're a damn liar!"

"You're a skeptic!"

"You're both drunk..." Roach sipped on his own water, starting when the server stopped behind him. "Did you need us to tab out?"

"Actually, I was coming up here to let you know I have to cut you off..." The server made an apologetic grin. "But if you'd like to tab out, I can take care of you."

Ghost shoved her shoulder. "Look at you getting us cut off."

"I'm not the only one drinking, mate." She tipped her glass into her mouth, savoring the last drop. 

Roach stood up. "Alright, I'm gonna pay this guy, then let's get out of here."

At Ghost's house, Roach put the car in park and looked between him and Jess. "Alright, Ghost, you're good. Jess, would you like me to walk you home?"

She shook her head. "I got it. I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

Jessica stepped out of the car and nodded, catching herself as she began to sway. "Yeah! I'm just a couple streets over, I can make it."

Roach furrowed his brows. "I don't live too far, I really don't mind the walk..."

Ghost tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout it, Roach. You get yourself home, I'm not too bad, I can walk her."

The young Corporal sighed. "You both stress me out." He straightened his shirt and gave Ghost a stiff nod. "You be careful, call me if you need me to come get you." And with that, he started home.

As they walked Galaxy swerved and weaved through the street. Four legs seemed more stable than two, but even that was a challenge. When she started to veer too far in one direction, Ghost grasped her scruff and righted her.

"Ghost, you're weird, you know that?"

He glanced down at her with a cocked brow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You didn't take your mask off all night." She licked at her lips, her tongue uncomfortably lose in her mouth. "What're you hiding under there?"

"I'm called Ghost for a reason, you know." He patted her side with a heavy thud and pulled her along with him. "Is that your house there?"

She flicked an ear to dismiss his question. "But that doesn't answer my question, why couldn't you take it off for a night out? You can't be that mysterious."

"What if I am?"

Galaxy darted in front of him and crouched down in a play bow. "C'mon, loosen up! Besides, it's hard to be friends with someone when you don't know what their face looks like."

He tugged his balaclava down tight against his face and set his brows. "I'm not taking it off, Gal..."

"But maybe I am!" She leaped up and nipped at the mask, his hand coming across her face to push her down.

"No! You can't take it!"

"Oh, but I think I can!"

"Leave it alone!"

She caught it this time, landing solidly on the ground, his mask clenched between her teeth. Before she could turn around to look at him, he tackled her, twisting her head around to tear it from her grip. She fought to tuck her head down and rolled over onto her back, pushing him away with her arms.

Suddenly she felt a heavy sense of regret. He yanked the garment away from her and sighed, his mouth turned down in a frown. "You got awfully big ears not to be listening, mutt." He shook the balaclava in her face. "When I say 'leave it alone,' you leave it alone." Ghost pulled it back on and stood up clumsily. "You happy now? You finally saw my face?"

Gal sat up, her ears laid back. "Sorry, Ghost... I kind of had a different outcome in mind..."

"Yeah? Like what?"

She shifted and looked away, embarrassed now. "You... Just reminded me of someone I knew." She walked up the stairs to her door and shifted, taking one more look at him. "Look, I'm drunk off my ass, and so are you. Let's just get some sleep; we'll feel better in the morning. A'ight?"

He was scowling from under the balaclava, but he nodded. "Night, Gal." And he disappeared into the dark.

At the house next door, Price was exhausted and finally felt like he could sleep. Talking with Soap had definitely helped clear his mind. His eyes fell closed and before long he had drifted off to sleep.

Bright eyes.

Soft skin.

Silken arms.

"We saved the world, will you marry me?"

John's eyes shot open again and he grumbled, tossing the covers over his head. Maybe Soap had been right. 

Maybe he was jealous...