Price was constantly berated by nightmares since his retirement. They never went away; he had them every night. They haunted him in the night and dragged on through the day, causing a tense atmosphere.

Now, he lays by your side, sleeping soundly. Soon, he starts twitching and talking in his sleep. In his head, he's back in the field.

He rolls over, facing you, not all entirely there. He's not himself. Soon, there's a pillow over your face, suffocating you.

You eyes fly open as you try to hit at John, hoping to get him off. He's finally realizing what he's doing and throws the pillow off, cradling your face.

"I'm so sorry, love." He murmurs, shame and regret wracking through his body, infecting his veins.