Another commission for Sandrotii, an expansion and extension of the previous one.
2:03 P.M.
London, England
"Hey Price, where's the crisps?"
It was months since Gaz, Price, and Soap were all discharged from the SAS and Task Force 141. To save money, they all moved in together in Price's apartment. They tried to balance responsibilities amongst themselves, but with Soap's mounting PTSD, Gaz and Price had to shoulder all of it. Gaz shuffled in the kitchen, muttering to himself about food.
"Left top cupboard!" Price shouted over the TV. Price and Soap were watching BBC news.
"Found it," Gaz grabbed a bag of barbeque crisps and opened them. He walked over to the couch, joining the other men. He folded the bottom of the bag just, so it would stay upright. Soap wordlessly grabbed a handful and gobbled it. "Slow down, mate."
"Soap, you can really hurt your mouth with those," Price flatly stated, eyeing Soap's aggressive chewing. Soap just kept on chewing and chewing, cramming more crisps into his mouth. He then stopped and finally swallowed. His face contorted into a grimace, with one tear rolling out of his right eye, then more.
"OOOOOOOOOW!" Soap let an alarming bellow of pain. He slapped a hand to his cheek.
"I told you, but you didn't listen!" Price groaned.
"It hurts…" Soap sniffled, "My mouth hurt."
"I told you to slow down, didn't I?" Price repeated himself. Gaz shook his head and went to the night stand, producing a flashlight. He scooted himself over to Soap.
"Open your mouth, Soap," Gaz turned on the flashlight. The cockney then put his hand on his shoulder.
"Aaaah," Soap dropped his jaw. Gaz then shone a light into Soap's mouth. Looking into his mouth, it looked rather normal. His mouth was rather red and pink, so it was hard to tell until he saw a line of bright red on his fleshy pink hard palate. "What you find, Gazzie?"
"Well, your mouth is fine," The cockney turned off the flashlight and put it down, "Just don't eat too fast. Those crisps can hurt your mouth." He then ruffled the faux hawk on his head.
"Mmmmkay!" Soap continued to eat his crisps.
"Look, it's Peppa Pig!" Price pointed on the TV. The titular pink pig played and sang. Soap was enraptured by it, even forgetting to chew his crisps. He even crudely parroted the dialogue.
Gaz ruffled the Scotsman's hair again, "Don't forget to chew, mate." Price motioned to Gaz with a head nod to the kitchen. The men got up and headed to the kitchen.
"Thanks, mate," Gaz opened, "I could feel my brain melting from that Peppa Pig shite." He crossed his arms, crumpling his Manchester U shirt. His jeans contrasted the warm pale palette of the kitchen.
"Me too," Price agreed. His clothes fit more with the kitchen, a soft yellow shirt and olive pants.
"What is it this time?"
"I think Soap needs to be somewhere outside of the house."
"Don't bring up the NHS again. I dare you to do it, you moppet."
"I'm not thinking about the NHS. Maribelle was a proper cunt." Price pulled a Villa Clara cigar from out of the drawer. He started to smoke it.
"A fag? Right now?" Gaz asked, incredulously, "With him around?" His head motioned to Soap, who was still fully distracted by the abomination of sight that is Peppa Pig.
"He won't give a shit." He blew smoke out of the kitchen.
"Anyway," Gaz moved on, "I think Soap can benefit from some kind of schooling. Not only to take the stress off ourselves, but also encourage healing and useful skills."
"School?" It was Price's turn to be incredulous, "I doubt the headmasters would believe he finished his A-Levels with his current speech."
"I'm not talking about college."
"University isn't going to let him in. They'd rather take a migrant."
"Price!" Gaz gasped, "I'm not talking about something that high." He pulled out his iPad, scrolling through some sites, "I'm talking about something that will help him relearn the basics. Maybe introduce him to more people. He can't be with us all the time. I think a bakery job courtesy of a group home will help." He showed a PDF file of a group home brochure.
"You have a point, Gaz" The former captain looked closer at the brochure, "But Soap is more functional than an average group home resident. Perhaps try a trade?" Price started scrolling through trade schools accommodating of special needs on his phone.
"I think you're overestimating Soap's independence here. He no longer is comparable to an average worker. All he can do now is eat, shit, sleep, and play with a kindergartener's vocabulary. He's gonna get fired quick. He needs a school."
"So, you're telling me to send him to a glorified babysitter?" Price blew more smoke, "He's a hard bastard, Gaz. If he can survive solo intelligence missions, then what's a paltry labour job?"
"A hard bastard he may be, but it's going to take a shit ton of effort to get it out again. A school is going to be a more structured place where he can learn and sort his thoughts. Possibly a place where professionals can untangle Soap's brain, so he can become the Soap we once knew and mentored. We need to take this slow."
"Even a broken person can be functional. If Soap can have just a fifth of functionality as he did before, he should back on his feet in no time. That's why we have to act now." The former captain felt a heavy weight on his foot, chuckling, "Speak of the devil."
Soap was tightly curled at Price's foot, pouting. It was a comical sight to see, him wearing a white shirt with fleece Cadbury-patterned pajama pants. He also wore bunny slippers that he wouldn't stop wearing until Price firmly told him so.
"Hey there, mate," Gaz greeted softly, waving hi.
"Me go nap. Peppa Pig gone." Soap blubbered.
"I'm here, Soap, let's get you to my room," Price got up, slowly shaking Soap off his leg and helping him up. He then led him by the hand to his room, tucking him in his and Gaz's king bed. Gaz followed only to say, 'Sleep tight' and ruffle his faux hawk again.
Him and Gaz then proceeded to cuddle on the couch to Dr. Who.
8:31 A.M.
Price woke up, more tired than usual. He always felt some level of exhaustion since going on leave, but it was now dragging him further down. His shoulders felt heavy and his eyes felt droopy. Even peeling off the comforter was a herculean task. He rubbed his eyes, looking at the clock and then his phone.
'Shit, we really need to be outside again.' Price looked at the window, noting the grey skies and the sheet clouds. His hands heavily went onto Soap, who was soundly asleep. As much as he appreciated Soap's presence, he wished he could only sleep with Gaz and just Gaz. The leftenant just slept mere centimeters from Soap, except buried in comforters with only a beanie sticking out. It was true Gaz fashion to swap a baseball cap for a beanie to sleep.
And that was one of the many reasons he loved Gaz. He was a cockney, born and bred. Lived in a working-class family on the verge of poverty. Headwear was a major thing for him and he cherished every hat in his possession. As crude and funny he was, deep down he was loyal and passionate. He would care for his little cousin Simon even if it meant demotion.
That was probably why he was much gentler on Soap than he was, mused Price.
Soap was splayed out between them, loudly snoring and muttering about Zakhaev and Makarov. He was still in his pajamas, wearing Superman socks. Yet Price spied a crucifix on his neck. It was true that Soap was Roman Catholic according to the records, but he wasn't open with it. Perhaps it was another part of his mental regression, if he actively wore it as a Scottish youth.
A lightbulb went off in Price's head.
Price then shook Gaz awake, gently, "Hey, love."
"The hell you want, wanker?" Gaz growled, inching his way over the comforter and rubbing his eyes, "I was dreaming that I had unlimited Nando's."
"Typical," Price huffed, "We should take Soap to some cathedrals."
"The fuck? Why?" Gaz spat, confused.
"Think about what we talked about yesterday."
"Oh. Shite that's a bloody good plan," Gaz leapt out of bed, changing from his black hoodie and sweatpants into some jeans and a green shirt. He also switched hats, from the beanie into his signature baseball cap.
"Oi, Soap. We're going to eat at Mickey D's." Price then gently shook Soap awake. Soap rolled over at first, and then looked at Price, eyes bleary. "Good morning, Soap."
Soap's eyes then widened, and his face burst into a smile, "MCDONALD'S! MCDONALD'S! MCDONALD'S!" He screamed, bursting and pushing out of Price's door.
"Works every time." Gaz chuckled. "Oh shit!" Soap emerged out his own room with his jeans on his head and a sweater around his ankles.
"Gaz, prepare the bathroom," Price commanded, then went to the improperly dressed Soap, "Bloody moppet, pants go on your legs and the sweater goes on your chest." He pulled the jeans off the youngest's head and lifted the sweater off the ground. Soap kept wiggling and whining, but Price persisted in getting Soap changed properly. He then unceremoniously pushed him to the pre-prepared bathroom.
The bathroom had a bright blue toilet seat and a large rubbish bin. Gaz was there to guide him in relieving himself.
"Pull down your pants."
"Aim at the toilet."
"The tissue goes into the bin. No, not the toilet. No, not the sink. There. There!"
"Wash your hands. That's enough soap. Use the white towel."
"Brush your hair."
"Don't squirt all the toothpaste, mate. Shite, it's all over the sink."
"Spit in the sink. In the sink. Sink. In. The. Sink. Not on my hand!"
"Don't use the white towel on your mouth."
With proper wiping and cleaning from Gaz, Soap looked like a presentable adult with his jacket on backwards. The cockney had to wriggle him out of it and turned it out properly. With Price and Gaz frazzled, they set off into the Ford Focus and drove to Westminster.
11:05 A.M.
Westminster
After a rather complicated breakfast at the local McDonald's, the three went into a private park. Soap was too invested in his Happy Meal toy to truly eat the other two had to barter him. They promised a game of hide and go seek, in which they were currently in the middle of. Soap volunteered to be it, of course. Gaz told him to count to sixty-nine, and Price had to choke back an exasperated chortle.
Price climbed a tree to survey all the churches and cathedrals around him. Most were weathered and old, but they were still sturdy even with schools attached to them. He wasn't a man of God, but he knew if religion was practiced correctly, it can yield great results.
Gaz on the other hand, wasn't even trying to hide. He was weaving in and out of graveyards, with only a tinge of Christianity in mind. After the sadness set in too much, he escaped to the football field. It was eerily empty except for a red-headed groundskeeper.
"Riley?" He growled in surprise, "That's not really ye, innit?"
As ashamed he was to admit, Gaz jumped at the sound of his last name. He turned to see the freckled red head come toward him. The groundskeeper was a gaunt man in threadbare coveralls and a cable-knit wool sweater.
"Oh, my goodness, Gaz!" He gasped, giving Gaz a bear hug, "It's been years since our A-levels! How's life treating ye? Where the hell is Simon? Did he really kill his own fam-"
"Kellan? What the fuck are you doing here?" Gaz glared at him.
"Sorry, I guess it's still sensitive shit. I dun mean it like that."
"I guess," Gaz scratched the ground with his trainer, "It's rough shit, but I'm rougher."
"That's how it is, innit? Ye eat shit until ye eat no more. My mum died, and my siblings just got jobs not long after the ceremonies. Turns out I got passion for dirt, or what's growing on it."
"It's a living. Simon died in service a while ago."
"I'm sorry, mate." Kellan rolled his shoulders back, laying a hand on Gaz's shoulder, "Simon was one fucked kid. I remember you chasing after him when he tried to flirt with those eleventh form birds. I think he may have set cat shit on fire too."
"Fun times. Not so fun when the man you serve with becomes some form of that fucked kid."
"What?" Kellan broke the toothpick he was chewing on.
"Yeah, another buddy of mine and I decided to take this FNG in, the war fucked him up big time. Brain got scrambled into some child. We're trying to figure out a way to get him normal."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah…" Both looked up at the sky and their phones for a while, refusing to break the silence.
"Ya know," Kellan broke the silence, "I do work with retarded kids, not like okay retarded but incredibly retarded. I've seen first-hand the shit they pull. Insane shit. Everyone I know became a basket case within kilometers of them. Tell ya what, our janitor had a breakdown and quit. We're looking for one, one great with kids. Being nice is great, but money is the thing that solves a lot of problems. From what I seen, they hit the wallet."
"Indeed. I can probably shoulder tuition, but he is not retarded."
"It's a good idea. Think about it."
"Yeah, Patricia and Katherine are the good ladies running that department."
Just so, Soap was charging towards Gaz, yelling something indiscernible. Gaz was then tackled down, with Soap giving a tighter hug. Price followed behind, holding a small rubber ball. Soap then got up and took the rubber ball, throwing it up and catching it.
Kellan took note of Soap's behavior, "Catch?"
"Catch!" Soap yelled, throwing the ball at Kellan. They started to play catch.
"Gaz, how the hell you'd end up here?" Price asked, intrigued.
"How they hell did you find me?" Gaz was impressed.
"I surveyed each church from a high tree. I had to get down because Soap kept shaking and screaming at it," Price turned to Kellan, "The hell are you?"
Kellan caught the ball, "I was Gaz and Simon's classmate since second form. I'm a groundskeeper here. This the FNG, Gaz?"
"Bloody right, he is," Gaz added, "He was Price and mine's FNG."
"Given how this little bugger talks, he's gone." Kellan drawled.
"He is not!" Price was offended, "He's just heavily traumatized."
"He is totally gone. Not only this guy speaks like a kid, he plays like one too." The groundskeeper commented, "Not to be rude, but he belongs here."
Gaz was now deeply offended and drew a sharp inhale, "Are you fucking serious? Do you think sending him to a fucking church will cure him? He is not gone! He is not retarded! And he is NOT something for you to play savior too." He tackled Kellan into the ground, wasting no time in pummeling him in punches.
"Here?" Kellan had now Price's attention, "Gaz, calm down! He only has PTSD from the war, but I do not appreciate your ignorance and condescension towards him!" He managed to pry Gaz off the groundskeeper but couldn't help placing a kick in the ribs. He then pushed Gaz to the side and whispered to him, wiping off any grass and dirt.
"Hey man, I'm sorry," Kellan wheezed, "I forgot how tough soldiers can be." He turned to Soap, "You know what, kiddo. You ain't a lost cause. You have great aim." He rolled himself up, sitting cross-legged, "I guess my work's hardened me too much. It brings me back memories of when you kicked ass when people talked shit about Simon." He raised his hands up in defeat, biting his lip.
"There's more where that came from," Gaz accepted the apology sharply, "It's been years, but I still do not tolerate any crap."
"For someone that works within a religious school, you meet my expectations. The hell kind of place is this anyway?" Price crossed his arms, eyeing the downed groundskeeper.
"This is Sacred Heart academy, Westminster location. We're a top school. We'll deal with all buggers: White, Black, Green, Yellow, or boy or girl."
"Isn't this a Catholic institution?"
"Well, historically, yeah," Kellan scratched his head, "But you don't have to be Catholic to attend. Brings the numbers up and keeps us working."
"Well, this FNG here, Soap," Price continued, "Is reported to be Catholic so I see no issue with ideology." Soap dropped the ball and leaned heavily into his captain's back, "You remember going to church, Soap?"
"Yeah, me mum take me erry Sunday," Soap replied, leaning further, "I get to talk to Jesus."
"Well, we're going to not exactly church, but something to help you. It's so we can meet new people. We won't be there-"
"NOOOOOOOO!" Soap yelled, flapping his hands hard, "Me want Pricey and Gazzy to be there! I wanna play catch! I wanna sleep! I wanna play footie! I wanna stay home!"
"Hey, Soap, be quiet!" Price tried to hold his shoulders down, "Shhhhh, this is a school!"
"Shush! Don't scare Kellan!" Gaz tried to rub his back, but Soap started stomping.
"No, I've seen worse," Kellan nonchalantly whistled, "Now kiddo-" He tried to approach Soap with the rubber ball.
"NOOOOOOO!" Soap screamed louder.
"Just play catch with me," The groundskeeper persisted, "Just… play." He tossed the ball at Soap, hoping to get a reaction. The youngest felt the ball hit his foot and stopped his tantrum to look at it. He then tossed it at Kellan, "There, buddy. Good kid."
"Is there a problem here, Kellan?"
"What?" Kellan caught Soap's ball, looking towards the classroom a field away. His sight caught onto two nuns, rather young looking. One was tall and skinny, pale with blue eyes and brown hair sticking out of the top of her habit. The other was slightly darker, with brown eyes and a black braid sticking out of the top of her habit. "No."
"And who are you?" The other nun asked, looking at Price, Gaz, and Soap, "Why are you on our school grounds?"
"I can explain that, Katherine," Kellan rushed to defend the trio, "Gaz," He pointed to Gaz's hat, "Is an old friend of mine from primary. We just lost a janitor so I'm guessing he can replace him. He served in the military, so his buddies are living with him."
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Katherine clapped her hands in joy, "Praise God to give us the ability to always the serve the veterans."
"I guess we can take it from here," The brown-haired nun finally spoke, "Kellan, get ready. The kids are going to have their lunch. I'm Patricia and this is Katherine. A talk should be in order."
"That makes more sense now," Patricia swept her hair away from her forehead. The nuns and the trio were in their main office. She sat at her desk, papers organized and a brick bearing her name and position, "I'm the head of the special education department."
"I'm the assistant head," Katherine was pouring tea and serving biscuits. Gaz and Price were seated separately. Soap was wandering around and tinkering with the play table.
"May I know my hours for the position?" Gaz crossed his arms, "Also, if Soap is enrolled here, is it possible for us to see him during school hours?"
"You will in the day time for the most part, on-call for nights. And yes, it's possible to see Soap on your break, but due to policy we often separate students and their guardians."
"I'm aware you do a standard eight-hour schedule," Price commented then asked, "But Soap isn't good away from us. He… naps a lot and just loves to play. Yet Soap is still an adult. He's cleared his A-Levels and some college, so I'm not sure if this is appropriate for him."
"Regardless of age, Soap here sounds like one of many of our special ed students. We have an adult program here, not to worry." Patricia clarified, "Mental regression is an uncommon symptom of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, but it's still a symptom common to some on the program. The adult program isn't of an academic focus, but instead a practical one where we teach independence and healthy living."
"How religious do you make this program?" Gaz asked again, with a hint of disgust.
"We often strive for a Christ-centered education," Patricia reassured, "So we like to open with a prayer and share parables. However, God calls us to be more practical with them than our regular students."
"Soap is Catholic, no?" Katherine asked.
"Yes, I can submit records," Price answered, "As good as it sounds, I'm not exactly convinced. While the PTSD has done on number on him, he's still stubborn. He's terrible with new environments. He'll throw tantrums and we can't really leave him alone unless he's sleeping. Hell, he even threw a tantrum at the suggestion of being away from our apartment."
"That's the case with many of the special ed children we have received. Therefore, we have four dedicated and rotating teachers, all with Masters' degrees in Special Education and some specializations. They all have near decades of experience and can handle any situation or feeling."
"Even an adult war veteran?" Price added.
"More than likely."
"We'll have to sleep on this one. Sorry ladies."
"So how do I get started with the position?" Gaz asked, hopefully.
Katherine handed Gaz a packet, "Fill this out and send it to us when we call you for the interview. Have all appropriate documents ready. As for your dependent, try to get him prepared as possible in the case you decide to send him here. Due to his condition, it is absolutely vital."
Gaz and Price got up from their chairs, noting the time. They shook hands with the nuns and Soap followed them out of the door, waving goodbye. The trio went back to the car and to their apartment.
Soap took a long nap in Price's bed. Price and Gaz gathered all documents possible and filled out the packet.
One week later…
12:30 P.M.
Sacred Heart Westminster
Gaz was twiddling his thumbs outside the office. He was well-dressed this time. It was comical to see him in a three-piece suit and slicked back hair. He had a leather portfolio, courtesy of Price. He still remembered Price's good luck kiss as he drove here.
"Gareth Riley." Patricia peeked out her office, "Oh it's you, come in." She shooed Gaz in and closed the door.
"I'll talk with the other nuns about the decision. How about you explore the campus while you wait?" Patricia concluded the interview.
"Thank you for your time," Gaz thanked. He brushed the lint off his suit and carried out his portfolio. The campus was awfully big for a Catholic academy. There were multiple quads and floors accompanying each. The dormitories were on the other side. The field they met in wasn't all that far from the special education classrooms. Knowing Soap, they opted out of the dormitories and elected to commute instead. He and Price tried to look at other schools, but in his mind, the tour really cinched it.
Gaz pulled out his phone to call Price, "Hey, Price. I think this place is it. Not only do I have food provided, but I get to have benefits such as a 401K and I'm able to see Soap. The campus so big and comfortable, like it's not pretty, but it's not scary looking. The field is beautiful, and I can imagine Soap having fun here."
"The place can be a dump for all I care," Price replied, "Hey, Soap. Stop it! How are the teachers?"
"Another big thing is that me being here will cut Soap's tuition down to almost nothing. That'll be another thing off our shoulders. The teachers aren't even nuns. The classes are quiet and well-behaved. The kids looked pretty good there and it seems like they're a family. I think Soap can really benefit from that."
"You hit it on the nail, love. Soap, no!"
"Say hi to Soap for me, Patricia is coming."
"You'll get it, love." Price hung up, "I think this is our best bet. Let's take this opportunity and be extra careful with Soap.
"Hey, Gareth," Patricia found him in the center of the school, next to the statue of Jesus.
"It's Gaz by the way," Gaz corrected.
"Well, Gaz, come to the office. We made our final decision."
"We made the decision to hire you. Welcome to Sacred Heart," She extended her hand to Gaz, shaking it, "Your qualifications are strange, but they show that you are worthy and committed."
"I highly appreciate your decision. I hope to not disappoint you, "Gaz gave a firm squeeze, "Price and I made the decision to send Soap to the adult program."
"That is wonderful!" Patricia clapped her hands, "The adults are going to be excited to have another person with them!"
The trio celebrated at an Italian restaurant, applauding at Soap's proper use of the bathroom, and the words 'please' and 'thank you'. It took much effort on both elders' part, but it was worth celebrating when Soap pulled through.
Another week later…
6:03 A.M.
It was finally the first day of school for Soap and the first day of Gaz's job. Soap was dashing around the kitchen in mismatched socks and an inside-out blazer. He had some French toast in his mouth as he kept playing with the fidget spinner that Price bought him. Price was chasing him down.
"Sit down, Soap!" He yelled, reeling him back into the seat, "You have to get ready. It's your first day of school, remember?" The captain turned his blazer right side out and left it on him.
Soap finished chewing on his French Toast and swallowed, "My name is John MacTavish, but I'm Soap."
"Good." Price commended him on his rehearsed introduction. For the last week, Price and Gaz girded themselves for the long hard road of Soap's reeducation. Things people took for granted like writing, asking for permission, and putting on things like jackets were nigh insurmountable with Soap. "Just do as we practiced, and you'll do fine."
"And be nice to the teachers and your classmates," Gaz added, fixing his shirt and jeans.
"Hey, you should go soon, the traffic will be bad," Price shooed them away, giving Soap his bright red lunchbox.
"Too right, mate," Gaz put on his sweater and grabbed his keys, "We're leaving, Soap. Bye, love," He gave a quick peck on Price's cheek before rounding Soap into the Ford Focus. Price watched Gaz drive Soap away from the front window.
With a contented sigh, he took out a bottle of Jack Daniels and downed it. He then smoked an entire Villa Clara cigar.
It was a good day to go to the horse races.
8:30 A.M.
Sacred Heart Westminster
Soap's classroom was located right in front of the field. Classroom 21B. He sat in a wooden desk, facing the dingy chalkboard. The students didn't look much different from him. There was men and women, big and small. Some of the Down Syndrome students looked at him. The students with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome stared at the teacher.
The teacher was a stout ginger woman with wildly long hair. She wore a pink floral dress and black flats. She gently let Soap up to the blackboard and told him to write his name. He wrote Soap instead of John but in a rather crooked way. She then turned Soap to the crowd.
"Guys, this is Soap. Soap, these are going to be your new best friends." She announced to the class, "I'm Mrs. McNamara and I will be your teacher."
"Hi Mrs. McNamara," The class chorused or at least tried to. Some people clearly slurred or had a stutter. She turned to Soap, "We're going to have a lot of fun, okay?"
"M'kay!" Soap cheerfully replied, skipping to his desk and coloring in his worksheet.
"So, we're going to start with a prayer," Mrs. McNamara spoke, "Our father, who art in Heaven…" Soap caught the entire class bowing their heads and praying. He looked left and right, then joined them in bowing and mumbled choice words from his childhood memory.
12:30 P.M.
Price and Gaz's rehearsals for Soap have started to lose their effectiveness. The youngest has gotten out of his seat for a total of six times. Two of those times, he ran out of the classroom and had to be baited with candy to come back. He started to tap his foot incessantly, earning the ire of the severely autistic adults. During the reading lesson, he kept resorting to using W instead of R but was able to read the story in its entirety, albeit slowly. The Down Syndrome people looked at him in sheer jealously and dimness.
During recess he played rough and knocked some of his classmates over. Mrs. McNamara dragged him to time out, in which he cried loudly until recess was over. In the classroom, he started to whistle, causing the ones with Asperger's to go wild and hit him with erasers.
When Mrs. McNamara read the parable of the tortoise and the hare, Soap got into an argument with one of the higher functioning autistic students and she had to diffuse it by putting them in separate corners.
By the time lunch rolled around, Soap was withdrawn. He absent-mindedly ate his sandwich and colored in a crude picture of Makarov being blown up.
Gaz rolled around to give Soap a KitKat bar, and hugged him at the bad times and the good times. He was wearing a drab olive uniform with black gloves.
Day 2
Soap's day was slightly better, as he played blocks with the ADHD crowd and talked about dragons and games. The prayers were starting to make sense. Writing lessons started and he was getting the hang of aligning his letters properly.
He only had a few outbursts and spent his time in the corner twice.
End of Week 1
He got to play the parachute game and was incredibly happy over it. Gaz keeps giving him KitKat bars and listened to whatever Soap said.
However, things were different at home. Price scrambled to aid a constantly tired and withdrawn Soap to finish his homework. Soap would whine and stay on one spot. He even broke pencils. When it was too much, Price would slip away and drink and smoke. His eyes were sunken in from the hours devoted to Soap's homework and advice.
Gaz on the other hand said very little and watched TV. He tried to calm Price down but was pushed away.
Worse was when Soap keeps barging into their room to sleep with them.
Week 2
Basic math such as addition and subtraction were introduced. Everyone else but the higher functioning people struggled on the course. People started bumping into him and mocking the way he spoke.
"Hey, Soap, it's sowwwy, not sowwy!"
"Hey soup!"
"You're a giant!"
"You're a moppet!"
Yet Soap tried to greet the others with a smile and kind words. He answered the teacher's questions and learned how to play tetherball at recess. He even tried to help one of the Down Syndrome boys with his reading quiz. Although it was technically cheating, Mrs. McNamara couldn't help but giggle. Moments like these were the reason for her years.
During Wednesday, another student came in. She was a mousy girl who spoke very little and looked at floor most of the time. Everyone stared at her, especially Soap.
"This is Sarah," The teacher introduced, "She will be joining us today. We'll be friends in no time." Sarah had dark olive skin and wore a dusty pink hijab and dress. She managed to write her name beautifully in cursive on the chalkboard.
"We'll be friends in no time," Sarah parroted back as she found her seat. She stared intently at Soap's doodle of Zakhaev being shot, "You draw pretty."
"Hi… Thanks, hehe," Soap stopped drawing, scratching his head and felt warm, "I'm Soap. You Sarah?"
"You Sarah," She parroted back. Through doodling in class, they became fast friends. Sarah was bewildered over Soap's violent and graphic depictions of war and death. Soap was fascinated by Sarah's near photographic renders of flowers and rabbits.
They even played tetherball together.
However, Soap being over the moon about Sarah brought additional irritation to Price.
"Sawah is a really pwetty girl! She draw pwetty pictures!" Soap sighed dreamily, putting his hands to his cheeks.
"I'm glad you have a friend, but Gaz told me that you're failing math," Price curtly replied, "You really have to do your homework." He unfolded the crumpled worksheets and put a pencil in Soap's hand, "Please, this was easy for you in Prague."
"I dun wanna," He flipped the paper over and doodled, "I wanna do this to Sawah," He pursed his lips and kissed Price on his head.
"Soap," He flipped the paper back up and set his writing hand on the blank line, "Please."
"No." He kissed Price again.
"Soap." Price let out a haggard sigh and smoked a cigar. It went out in record time and Soap still hasn't finished his homework. Gaz gently pushed Soap to finish but resorted to filling out his answers at times.
Week 3
Mrs. McNamara introduced cooking to the class. They slowly started with microwaves and then moved up using the stove. Another teacher, a burly blonde man, joined them to keep watch. His name was Mr. Stevenson and was well loved for his large bushy beard. Although injuries were had, it was all in good fun.
Soap and Sarah were slowly invited by the Down Syndrome students to play Four Square with them. The autistic people ignored them, and the Fetal Alcohol syndrome people threw rocks at them.
Soap got detention for throwing a larger rock back and giving one of them a concussion.
"Soap, we are very disappointed in you." Gaz sighed, "We know you're in there somewhere, but… This is not acceptable. Kellan said you sent this kid to the hospital. If you were back in the SAS, you would be dismissed."
"The old Soap wouldn't do this. Why are you like this?" The rhetorical question Price asked felt hollow. He knew the damn answer.
"They hurt Sawah!" Soap slammed his fists on the table, letting his homework fly over the table. Price opened a beer and downed the whole can.
"Sarah was not involved in any of this," Gaz corrected, "She was telling you not to, Soap!" Price downed another can of beer.
"Soap, we did a lot to open out the old you," Price started to slur his words, "You… you are just throwing it away. Gaz and I thought the school would help you. I thought the school would help you be yourself again. Back in the SAS, there was none of this coddling shit. You went through hard shit, but you picked yourself up and didn't hurt anyone doing it? What's so different about now?" Gaz cringed as he pulled Price away, mustache and beard soaked in vodka.
"I'm sowwy, Price" Soap chased Price, then clung to his waist, "I'm sowwy! I didn't mean to hurt them! They were being mean and scawy."
"That's no excuse, though," Gaz replied, "We taught you to use your words. Selection taught you to use your words." Soap kept clinging onto Price. Price then shoved him off.
"No iPad for tonight." Price uttered before stumbling into the bathroom.
"I'm so sowwy!" Soap repeated it through tears as he wrapped himself under his covers.
Week 4
No set of students but the severely disabled ones and Sarah would even be civil to Soap. The rest were either neutral, ignorant, or rude to Soap. Some of the autistic kids would stim louder to counter Soap's increased whistling. One even had a meltdown over Soap reading. A girl with Fragile X threw a paper airplane at his eye.
Remembering Gaz and Price's warnings, he could only growl loudly, call her smelly, and violently tear the paper airplane apart.
Soap kept doodling more, to the point he would doodle all over his worksheets. He just wouldn't stop doodling. Mrs. McNamara found the contents of Soap's doodles disturbing was at the same time unsurprised given his status as a war veteran. She pulled Soap aside, during the reading lesson.
"Soap," She spoke, "Soap, look at me." Her voice had an airy tone to it, but it had a worn depth to it, "You've been drawing violent pictures. Like this one, you drew someone on fire."
"I 'member it, dat's why," Soap replied blankly, "I 'member things every day."
"Are your guardians aware that you do this?"
"Pricey and Gazzy do, they wan me to do homework. Pricey get tired."
"You need to focus on the lesson. I know it's hard, but can you for me, stop drawing and actually fill out the worksheet?"
"Mmmmkay."
At home, Price let Soap play on his iPad while he filled in the answers. He smelled of cigars and kept drinking beer while watching football on his phone. If he wasn't drinking, he'd yell at the games on his phone. If Soap asked him questions, he'd answer to try to be his old self, be nice, and do what he's told. Gaz tried to sit Soap down to make up for the lessons, but to no avail. Soap kept crumpling the papers.
Week 5
It was now only Soap and Sarah, but now Sarah was starting to feel fearful of him. She didn't like that Soap wasn't doing his work or him sticking out his tongue at other people. In group play, she slipped away to play with the other autistic children.
For some reason, it stabbed Soap in the heart. He was a lonely boy. Without Sarah, he ate, played, and worked by himself. He even drew by himself. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared blankly at the blackboard.
It all came to a head during a cooking lesson. The objective was to make chicken soup. The students got into pairs. Soap rushed to be with Sarah, but she ran away.
She found herself with her hips to the table, shaking. There was an obvious fear in her eyes, covering her chest with one arm. "You are a bad man. You kill people. You draw scary things. I don't want to be your friend anymore."
Something inside Soap snapped as he reached for the knife and stabbed Sarah in the arm. He started bellowing, "WHY YOU BETRAY ME? I DO NOTHING WONG! DON'T LEAVE ME. WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY!?"
Sarah fell to the floor, sobbing, parroting Soap's words between gasps. She held her bleeding arm as everyone else screamed and ran around. Mr. Stevenson dragged Soap to Patricia's office as Mrs. McNamara tried to calm the class down in vain. An ambulance arrived to take Sarah in.
With a few brusque words from Mr. Stevenson, Katherine called Gaz and Price immediately.
Gaz and Price were seated in front of Patricia, with Soap slumping the in the middle seat. Gaz looked hollow. Price had a look of discontentment. Soap was looking at the ground.
"Gaz, Price…" Patricia took a sharp inhale, "His teacher and Mr. Stevenson fear that his extent of his PTSD is well beyond our paygrade. He no longer behaves properly in class, the students avoid him out of fear or hatred, and now has stabbed another in what was possibly an episode. The fact he harmed another human being without hesitation is bringing massive alarm to everyone in the program."
"I'm not going to defend Soap on this one," Gaz muttered defeatedly, "But Price and I have tried to make Soap a proper student. We practiced all the rules and did sample runs of each lesson. He did so well like it was almost like his old self."
"We… really did," Price added, numb, "We repeated things repeatedly. I always had to keep Soap at the table to finish his homework. I told him to not hit people."
"I understand that PTSD is an incredibly debilitating disease, but has it occurred to you that maybe your attitudes are affecting him? I'm aware you two are veterans also. Despite the childish demeanor, I can still see a soldier inside Soap. An unaware child. A scared child. A scarred child."
"We try to make our home like a civilian one," Price lowly responded, "We try to give routine and repetition, but we're more laissez-faire with him."
"I thought our home and this school was a place to get himself sorted out."
"Me too," Patricia sighed, "I'm at a loss here. Soap needs our help, but at the same time he's a threat to other students. I don't want another stabbing."
"What's your solution?" Price asked.
"I'm incredibly sorry, but it's the only solution. I'll be issuing an ultimatum." Price and Gaz gasped.
"You're quick to give up that easy?" Price spat, offended.
"It's not a matter of giving up, but a matter of changing hands," Patricia groaned, "My ultimatum is this: Keep Soap here but with live-in psychologists or homeschool him yourselves."
'Shit,' Price whispered.
"Given Soap's condition, what he committed will not warrant an expulsion, but it will be on you to pay the damages. I'm incredibly sorry for this…" Patricia had tears in her eyes, "I'll commend you on your assistance though.
"Thank you for the chance," Price grabbed Soap, pulling him up, "But I doubt the psychologists here can deal with adult veterans."
"Fair enough, you know him better than we do. Perhaps you can accommodate to him better, so he can improve at some pace," She tried to stifle a sob.
"Thank you for the opportunity. I appreciate it; I really do," Gaz bowed, "But I'm sorry it had to end this way. May I request a two-week notice?"
"…Yes," Patricia began sobbing, "I'm so sorry, but it's incredibly important that I do this."
Soap spent his last days in a corner table in Mr. Stevenson's class. He was like a stone that no one wanted to touch.
Gaz and Kellan mourned together in the coming two weeks.
As a severance package, Gaz was given his benefits and a somewhat large sum of cash. A good amount of the cash went to Sarah's family to cover her medical expenses. Gaz offered Soap to visit Sarah, but Patricia declined, saying that Sarah's rough family life could jeopardize Soap. With some negotiation, Price was able to gather all possible homework and lesson plans from the program. He also replaced all of Soap's broken pencils.
It was a bright and early Thursday, with Soap clinging onto Gaz as he made some bacon and eggs.
"Gazzie…" He whispered in his ear, watching the oil bubble and burst.
"Good morning, Soap," Gaz exhaled a greeting, "Watch it, this may hurt you." Soap leaned onto his shoulder regardless. He was lighter than Simon, so Gaz paid no mind to it.
"Mornin', love," Price slurred his speech. He held a bulging portfolio and a bottle of whiskey, "Morning, FNG," He passed by Soap, slamming himself down on a chair.
"Price, it's only nine in the morning!" Gaz admonished, "What the fuck?"
"Soap kept kicking me," The former captain whistled.
"Don't pin this on him!"
"Is Pricey mad with me?" Soap asked, looking intently at Price.
"Don't worry about it," Gaz poured a glass of milk, "Here's your milk, go sit at the table."
"Mmmmkay!" Soap grabbed the glass of milk and sat down at the opposite end of Price. He began to tap his fingers on the table, swaying back and forth. Price put down the whiskey and glared at him.
"Breakfast's ready!" Gaz called out as he plated everything for the three of them. All three maintained an illusion of silent but civil togetherness as they ate.
It broke as soon as they were done. While Gaz gathered the plates, Price started to glare at Soap. Soap was singing a church hymn from school.
"He's got the whoooole world, in His hands
He's got the whoooole world, in His hands
He's got the whoooole world, in His hands
He's got the whoooole world, in His hands
He's got my brothers and my sisters in His hands,
He's got my brothers and my sisters in His hands,
He's got my brothers and my sisters in His hands,
He's got the whole world in His hands.
He's got the sun and the rain in His hands,
He's got the moon and the stars in His hands,
He's got the wind and the clouds in His hands,
He's got the whole world in His haaaaaands!"
Price chugged the rest of the whiskey in disgust. Gaz came back, unaware the bottle was empty. "You know what, Soap, how about we play some cricket and walk outside?"
"'Kay!" Soap cheered as he got ready to change.
"Please plan something while we're out, okay?" Gaz requested, "I can't do all the work."
"Don't worry, Gaz. Have fun with the bugger," Price spoke normally for the first time today. Gaz went outside with the cricket bat and ball while Soap followed. As the door closed, the former captain started to create a lesson plan, modeling it from the school. He figured to introduce material he was best at first, so he wouldn't pour any effort yet. For a groundskeeper like Kellan, he was impressive. Kellan gave Gaz a bunch of old spare books as a parting gift. Price used one of the easy books to start something.
Gaz and Soap went home to see a sober Price with papers neatly arranged on the table, complete with a sharpened pencil.
"Well done," Gaz gave a nod and pouted his lower lip. He went away to his computer, now taking a coding commission.
"Have a seat, Soap," Price pulled the chair out. Soap sat down on the chair, bouncing in his chair. "How about we read this story about the tortoise and the hare?" Price opened the book out, "Repeat after me: The Tortoise and the Hare."
"The… Tortoise and… The Hare…" Soap took a great effort.
"Good, let's the turn the page." Price turned the page, "A Hare was making fun of the Tortoise one day for being so slow…"
"A Hare was," Soap began to play with Price's hat, "making fun… of the… Tor-toi-se one… day for being… slow."
"Well, that was decent. Let's keep going. 'Do you ever get anywhere?'
"Do… you…" Soap stopped to flap the brim of Price's hat.
"Let's not get distracted here," Price pulled Soap's hand to the table, "Again: 'Do you ever get anywhere?'"
"Do… you… e-ver get any-where?"
"Better. He asked with a mocking laugh."
"He…" Soap use his other hand to play with the brim of Price's hat, "He…"
"He asked with a mocking laugh."
"He… asked… with… Aaaaaa… Maw-king… La-" The way the brim bounced fascinated Soap. He sat, affixed. Luckily Price knew where this was going and took off his hat, tossing it at the kitchen counter.
"Let's see if you do better…"
"He asked… with a mocking… laugh."
"Hm, I was right. 'Yes', replied the Tortoise…"
The Next Day
The reading lesson took longer than Price predicted but after much distraction and redirection, they were able to read the whole fable. He decided to do another reading lesson, but instead with another fable. He downed a shot of vodka before the lesson, so Soap's antics would irritate him less.
"The Fox and the Grapes," Price began.
"The Fox… and the Gr-apes," Soap repeated.
"A Fox one day spied a beautiful bunch of ripe grapes…" He turned the page.
"A fox, one… day spy-y-iiied… Aaaaa beeeeeauuutiful bunch of riiiipe grapes. I want some grapes."
"Not now, we're reading. …Hanging from a vine trained along the branches of a tree."
"Hanging from a vine… Can I get grapes please? Soap puffed his cheeks with his hands.
"Well, you can't read on an empty stomach. Go ahead," For all the irritation and contempt Soap's new self brought upon the captain, he couldn't but be charmed but it at times. Soap got up and grabbed a bunch of grapes from the fridge. He began to scarf them down but tried to read.
"Han-ging, Mmmph mmm… from a tree, Mmmm Mmmph, traiiiiined aloooooong the…" He gulped, "braaaanches of a tree."
"Okaaaaay. The grapes seemed ready to burst with juice, and the Fox's mouth watered as he gazed longingly at them."
"The graaaaapes… seeeeemed ready to… burst with juuuuice… aaaaaand the Fox's mouth wa-tered as he gazeeed longingingly at them."
"Better. The bunch hung from a high branch, and the Fox had to jump for it."
"The bunch… Pricey me want a snack," Soap looked downtrodden at his empty stem.
"You already had your grapes. That should be enough."
"Me hungry!"
"That was a big bunch," Price said with a scowl. Gaz was peeking out of the corner, cringing at Price, but brought over a bowl of peanuts.
"Hey, Soap's still a large man," Gaz sighed, "He should be eating enough."
"I'm aware, but we barely got past the beginning of the story." Price pushed the bowl towards Soap, "Eat up." Soap did.
It took almost two and a half hours to read this fable in its entirety. Soap managed to eat a bag of crisps, a Twinkie, a peach, and two Pop-Tarts during the story. That didn't even count drinking water. Price cursed Gaz for bringing the peanuts but thanked him.
He gave Soap a weak high-five upon finishing.
One Week Later
With Price getting rid of his hat entirely and bringing food on the table during his lessons, Soap learned at a slow but steady pace. He could now read children's books by himself and write his name and the alphabet. Basic addition was now doable, but he struggled with double digits. Price thought it was okay to introduce single digit subtraction today.
"Soap, we learned addition so now we're going to learn subtraction." Price took out a set of pebbles.
"Mmmkay, one plus one is two," Soap put two of the pebbles together.
"Yes, Soap, one plus one is indeed two," Price downed a shot of vodka, turning himself away from his protégé. He turned back and looked at the subtraction worksheet. For all its crappy doodles, it did demonstrate the concept well using small objects. "Now we're going to do the opposite."
"What's the opposite of one plus one is two?" Soap tilted his head.
"What is two take away one?" Price put the pair of pebbles together.
"Take… away… one," Soap thought intently.
"Well take away one, what do you have left?"
"Take away," Soap pulled both pebbles back.
"No, you're taking away two. You only take away one." Price pulled the pebble back to him.
"Take away," Soap pulled both pebbles back to himself.
"One, son. You take one." He pulled a pebble back and pushed the other one.
"Take away," he parroted. He pulled Price's pebble towards him.
"IT'S ONE, SOAP! WHEN YOU TAKE AWAY ONE PEBBLE FROM TWO, YOU HAVE ONE BLOODY PEBBLE!" Price pushed one pebble towards Soap and then flipped the table with a mighty roar, "WHAT IS SO HARD ABOUT TAKING AWAY THINGS?" He glared at Soap, who now slumped to the ground and whimpered. Papers scattered the floor and the pebbles rolled off into a hundred places. "OH WAIT, I BLOODY KNOW! YOU TOOK SOAP AWAY! YOU KILLED SOAP AND NOW HE'S A RETARDED PSYCHOPATHIC CHILD!" Price pointed at Soap.
The captain was now heavily breathing and growling, alternating raising his fist and lowering it. Soap kept flinching and breathing heavily too. When Price raised his fist again, Soap broke down into heavy sobs, with quicker breathing in-between. He lowered it and his protégé ran towards his own bedroom. Price followed him, raising his fist yet again. Soap went in and slammed the door, with loud bawling following.
Price, with fists clenched still, walked up to the door. He took a few deep breaths and rocked on his toes. He released his fists and started to knock. "Soap, I'm sorry for losing my temper at you. Can you come out to finish the lesson now?"
"Go away!" Soap cried. Price buried his face in his hands and let out a heavy sigh.
In the chaos that was brewing, Gaz stepped in with the groceries. He took a long hard look at the scene and curtly asked, "Okay, what the fuck is going on?"
Price's hands fell to his sides and looked around alarmed. He didn't expect Gaz to be home early. "The subtraction lesson went to shit. I tried to demonstrate two minus one being one, but he just wouldn't take it," He muttered.
"He just wouldn't take it?" Gaz put the groceries on the counter, responding incredulously, "He just wouldn't take it? Are you listening to yourself right now?" He crossed his arms and looked up at Price.
"He kept on taking both pebbles instead of one, so I had to correct him."
"Well, when you correct him, you don't do this shit," Gaz extended his palm towards the flipped table, "Our Soap needs to be taught with care, Price." He noted Soap's muffled sobbing behind the door.
"Oh, look at you being the mother," Price spat condescendingly, shrugging his shoulders and raising his palms in the air, "Soap's still our Soap, he does better when we push him hard!"
"You're so close and yet you're bloody far!" Gaz yelled back, raising his hands in the air too, "Can't you see his brain is scrambled beyond recognition? Yes, we still have Soap, but you can't treat him like we did before!"
"I thought if I can treat him like I always did, his old self would come back!"
"BULLSHIT!" Gaz pounded his hands on the counter, "Soap is fucking damaged. You'll only further the damage if you keep treating him this way!"
"HE'S A HARD BASTARD, GAZ!"
"I know that!"
"HE DOESN'T NEED ANY OF THIS CODDLING SHITE!"
"Look, Price…" Gaz lowered his hands, "I'm incredibly sad about what Soap has become. Our Soap, the FNG we taught together and fought with together, now reduced to a toddler? He's haunted by his own demons. I'm appalled at your recent behavior with not only him but yourself."
"SAS soldiers are tough bastards, Gaz. You and I both. Soap is no different. We are not coddled. Selection doesn't coddle us. I didn't coddle Soap and neither did you. We don't raise soldiers that way. They either get better or they break. So, what if Soap hit rock bottom, there's only one way to go up. My drinking is fine, thank you very much."
"It's like you forgot five goddamn years of your life, John," Gaz shook his head in absolute shock, "This situation should ring a bell." He stood closer to Price, chests nearly brushing.
"I was in the gulag- "
"BEFORE THAT!"
"…Simon? Riley?" The captain snorted, "That's not even comparable. HE WAS A FUCKING PSYCHOPATH BEING AN ADULT PSYCHOPATH! Shepherd was scared to interview him. Everyone was scared to meet him. Soap's only worthy of mockery not fear!"
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Gaz shook himself violently, dumbfounded, "Simon and Soap had the same medic. That medic diagnosed them with PTSD. THEY HAVE THE SAME GODDAMN DEMONS, PRICE!"
"THEY DO NOT!" Price cupped his hands to imitate a scale, he leaned right to signify Ghost, "Riley was abused. Soap had ignorant, strict, and conservative parents. Riley was just some killing machine filled with rage. Soap, I don't know, turned into some retarded abomination that got kicked out of special education school!"
"DON'T TALK ABOUT SIMON THAT WAY EVER AGAIN!" Gaz gave a right hook into Price's jaw. The captain fell backward, only to catch himself on his elbows and crawl slightly backwards. "What the fuck happened to you?"
"…I've always been like this." Price was at a loss for answer.
"No, you weren't. When you met me, you took me under your wing for being a shit. You didn't flip tables or drink preemptively with me. Or anyone else for that matter. When Simon was kidnapped in Mexico, no one knew how fucking torn up I was. But you knew. You knew I would sneak out late at night and fuck around with the GPS consoles finding my little cousin in vain." He wiped a tear from his eye, taking a deep breath, "You caught me one morning sleeping on the main console. But you didn't give me shit for it. You let me cry and listened to my panicked ranting. You opened yourself to me. You became patient but tried to instill resilience in me. Then Soap came along, and you passed that on to him. You became the father I, Simon, and Soap never knew we had."
Price wordlessly hung his head, collapsing back flat on the floor.
"And following your example, I took care of Simon coming out of Mexico. He may have been violent to me and others, but I was patient with him. Yes, I hit him out of self-defense, but I never wore down his self-worth. I remembered Simon as some bright, punk and worldly kid but the war molded him into an enigmatic firecracker. War changes you, Price…"
"…Are you siding with Kellan?" Price could read between the lines.
"Not really," Gaz scratched his head, "But the thing is with war, you can never be the person you were before selection. I know I couldn't. Neither could you. I don't want to admit defeat, but I think Soap's childish mindset will never go away. It's like how Simon's anger will never completely fade despite my help. He kept teasing Roach the whole time."
"Oh, thank goodness…" Price sighed, strangely a breath of relief.
"Oh?"
"Gaz, I thought I was alone in thinking Soap will never change. That's why I kept drinking so goddamn much. I was just so shocked. I just wanted the old Soap back. I was willing to do anything and push hard."
"I know… I want the old Soap too, but maybe his childish mindset isn't too bad. He could be the son we never had, but if that's the case…" Gaz pulled Price up, sweeping the dust off him, "Promise me this…"
"Hm?"
"Please stop drinking so damn much. And please, please, please just be the father figure he needs. Soap needed you before, but he still needs you now."
"You make a proper good point, love," Price hugged Gaz, placing a kiss on the forehead. The two cleaned up the mess and then opened the door to let Soap out. He immediately jumped into Gaz's arms. "Forget about the lesson, we're going to the park! I'm still sorry about getting mad at you."
Soap wordlessly forgave him as he hugged him, letting the older two hold his hands to the park outside.
A Week Later
Price quit drinking and only limited it to social occasions. He began to put more thought into his lesson plans and let Soap be himself more.
"Good job, son" Price praised Soap for finishing a math problem. Soap hugged him.
"They're gone now," He held his protégé as he was awake from his nightmare, "Those bullies are gone now. It's okay, Soap."
"That's a proper good home run!" He yelled as Soap hit the ball far.
"This show's kind of funny," He chuckled at Peppa Pig with Soap.
"Here's some mac and cheese," He gave Soap a big bowl, smiling as he devoured it.
It was nighttime, and all three were in bed together. Soap was sandwiched between Price and Gaz, snuggling a Peppa Pig plush.
"Goodnight Soap," Gaz greeted.
"Good night Pricey and Gazzy," Soap replied.
All three went to sleep, not only wrapped in blankets but the warmth of each other's hearts.
A/N: Again, any comments or criticism is welcome. If you want more fics like this, then look at the commission sheet on my tumblr. I hope you enjoyed this labor of love!