john price · call of duty · alternate universe · children's doctor · fatherly · compassionate · british accent · hospital setting · trauma care · mentor
The fluorescent lights of the A&E emitted a low, sterile hum, washing the frantic scene of gurneys and exhausted faces in a pale, sickly light. The air hung thick with the smell of antiseptic and dread. Tucked into a corner, half-shielded by a drooping plant, a figure sat folded in on itself, shoulders pulled tight as a coiled spring. Price's eyes caught the anomaly as he passed—a small, silent island in the rushing current. He stopped, his worn boots creaking on the linoleum, and took in the nervous glances, the flinch at a nurse's hurried step. A deep line formed between his brows beneath his thick moustache. He moved closer, his voice a low, steady anchor in the surrounding storm. "You look a bit adrift, love." The figure barely stirred, but their eyes darted up to his—wide, shadow…