"…John has full use of his arms, sir."
"What?" Price's eyes widened, despite the flat answer.
"…He has full range of motion, both left and right," The physician explained further. He then turned to Soap, who was sitting up. Soap was attentive, looking curiously at the dark-skinned physician before him. "John, will you flap your arms, please?"
Soap began to flap his arms, the entirety of them, in full force. He wore an innocent smile and giggled while doing it. Price could feel the wind the younger was generating. The older smirked to himself, realizing he still was a hard bastard underneath it all. Soap then did arm circles in both clockwise and counterclockwise.
"…That's enough, John," The physician gave a chopping motion, signaling for Soap to end his actions. Soap fidgeted, still giving a vacant smile. "The man recovered rather quickly."
"How long was he here?" Price scratched his head, "Three weeks? Four? Five?"
"We're speaking around four and a half at this moment, sir."
"You've got to be shitting me."
"I've said the same thing."
Four and a half weeks ago…
Price, Soap, and Gaz were doing a special walk through the city of Bath. They decided to a day trip since Gaz got a day off from his coding startup and Price had no clients in his home intelligence business. Soap was skipping forward, ahead of them. It earned the stares and ire from the townspeople but neither Gaz or Price seemed to mind. They ended up in a patch of fields.
However, the field was now being converted into a housing development. If the billboard with the smug-looking business man didn't say it, the various vehicles, construction workers, and the scaffolding and cement said it. Soap gave a fascinated gasp and skipped ahead over, saying hi to one such construction worker.
"Hiiiiii!" Soap bent over slightly and tilted his head at the man. He was built almost the same as Soap but holding some wood and wore a yellow hardhat.
"Soap leave the man alone!" Price pulled the nape of Soap's shirt in protest, "I'm sorry for him to bother you!" He started to drag him back, with Soap offering plenty of resistance. "Soap you don't just come up to people you muppet!"
"C'mon John," Gaz chuckled, "You screwed him over out of playing in Mickey D's play place so he's gotta play somewhere!"
"You expect him to play in this?" Price swooped a hand to all the scaffolding and the wet cement. He turned to the construction worker, "Really, sir, we're sorry to have him interrupt.
The construction worker gave a big, hearty laugh, almost dropping his wood, "Special folks are the best! Every time we see one, it brightens up our day!"
"You got that right!" Gaz clapped and slid his hands into finger guns.
"You men are doing a fantastic job!" The construction worker then went over to a ladder, "Have a nice day, fellas, really." He climbed up the ladder.
Gaz waved goodbye, and Price too. They turned their backs to see Soap.
But Soap wasn't there.
"Oi, Price, you had Soap in your hand, right?" Gaz asked Price.
"He was, but…" Price answered, then glancing to his hand, which was empty, "…Shit… SHIT!" Price and Gaz looked at each other and split up inside the construction site. Gaz runs deep into the site, calling Soap's name. Price stayed, calling out to the construction worker that went up the ladder. "OI! Where's our Soap?"
"The special guy?" The construction worker called back, "I think he climbed up the ladder…" Price raced to his ladder, "Not mine, try the left."
"Shitshitshitshit…" Price grumbled to himself as he climbed up the ladder. He went up the scaffolding, looking in all directions. He ran across the floors and bumped into a few other workers. Some swore at him and some muttered grievances. The former captain continued to call out Soap's name, but to no avail. He continued this for a few floors, until he saw Gaz on the same floor of a different building.
"Soap ain't here!" Gaz caught Price about to ascend the ladder.
"Shit, keep looking!" Price yelled back. Both proceeded to run and climb, still yelling for Soap.
Meanwhile, Soap was making blubbering noises and tossing a ball at the very top of a near finished apartment complex. He was tossing it up and catching it in place. Looking down, he noticed the floor was loosely made: a criss-cross of wooden panels. To him, it was a literal hopscotch floor. Starting from the corner, he started to play an improvised game of hopscotch, putting the ball in his pocket. His toes landed on the crossing of two panels. One foot, two feet, one foot, two feet; he kept going from corner to corner. He began to sing a nursery song that he heard from the TV.
He then pulled the ball out of his pocket and started to bounce it on the cross between the wood panels. Liking this new game he invented, he starting hopping to where the ball went. Drawing from his former strength, he was able to hop to every spot the ball bounced. He could even catch it even if it was far.
The floor wobbled under Soap's weight, but he didn't mind. His legs swung with it. He continued to play his game.
He was so absorbed with his game that he didn't notice the construction worker climbing up to his floor.
"Oi, buddy!" The worker called out, "You better get down from here!" His call remained unanswered, still playing. "Really, buddy, you're gonna get hurt. We're going to install metal beams here, kid!" He gave a large, sweeping handwave, "HEY!"
"Hi mister!" Soap greeted back, swinging to the wave of the floor, holding his ball.
"Get down, seriously," The worker was now going downstairs.
"Okay!" Soap started skipping to the stairs until he heard a rumble. Standing at the corner, he looked up and away.
It was a crane with a steel beam.
The crane recently turned in his direction. The rumbling drowned out the worker's barking orders to get down. The steel beam was only held by a thin metal hook and some string. It swung rather wildly along with Bath's slightly windy weather. The moment Soap noticed the steel beam was too late.
He looked to the left, only noticing now that the steel beam was at stomach level. The man only moved a centimeter before the beam smacked him on the stomach. Loosing his footing, Soap then slipped off the ledge and off the scaffolding itself.
"SOAP!" Price and Gaz screamed simultaneously, looking up to see a rapidly falling Soap. The construction workers scrambled to create a makeshift stretcher of sorts. They took a large white tarp and they stretched it taut. Gaz and Price joined in, barking orders to move quickly to catch the younger man.
Soap's trajectory wasn't smooth as expected. His arms and legs hit some outward scaffolding. He bounced off it them and then fell more. It was unlucky because that apartment was the tallest one out of all of them. The tarp was able to predict where he would fall, catching him right in the center. He bounced a bit more, but he rolled back down. Soap was bawling in a fetal position. The workers then loosened the tarp as one of them called for an ambulance.
Gaz tried to rub Soap's limbs, but he wiggled away, crying harder. Price shook his head, slipping it into his hand. "It's not your fault, Price," Gaz patted his superior's shoulder. Price smacked away in indignation.
The ambulance arrived, placing Soap on a proper stretcher and wheeling him in. Price and Gaz followed and sat with him on then ride through.
The physician announced grievous damage to his limbs and trunk while administering Ativan. He was rendered bedridden for most of the time.
Soap was now out of the bed and walking around in circles. He was blubbering a song from Peppa Pig. Price and Gaz were both in the exam room, a far cry from the private bed he stayed in for four and a half weeks. It was cramped, with Soap almost hitting a wall. Price pulled him back and gave him a fidget spinner to play with. The physician then came in, clipboard in hand.
"Glad to see John up and moving," He started, "He's been rearing to go since you came in. Nothing hurts, right John?"
"Yes," Soap gave a soft answer, attention rapt on the toy.
"Glad to hear," He then looked down on his clipboard scowled, "Mr. Price and Mr. Riley, I have something rather serious to tell you both." Turning to Soap, he said, "John, you can go to the play room. Can you go to the play room for me, please?"
"Okay," Soap gave the same soft reply, walking out of the door and immediately sprinting to the play room.
"Is he okay to do that?" Price asked, incredulously, looking back at Soap.
"Mr. Price he's done that many times in his stay here," The physician replied, "Anyway, back to the issue at hand. His trunk and limbs have recovered quicker than I expected. As you see he can move and play like normal. However, you indicated he has the mental capacity as a five-year-old, correct?"
"Yes, the people at the NHS said it was due to a variation of PTSD," Gaz commented.
"As I was able to connect. He did have nightmares when he slept. They must've related to his service, which I assume was extremely traumatic compared to the average soldier. Some mentally regress to cope with a high level of trauma, I've seen it in some patients, especially public servicemen."
"The nightmares happened before that, Dr. Raj," Price commented next, "Hence why he never sleeps alone at home. And yes, his tour of duty was extremely traumatic. Trust me, you don't want to know."
"I can't comprehend how anyway, nor do I want to Mr. Price. Unfortunately, I've come to deliver the news that John MacTavish has mentally regressed even further. His actions and behavior are now comparable to a three-year-old's. I am sorry, but this hospital has done all it could."
Gaz's and Price's jaws dropped. They cursed and whispered amongst themselves in hushed and stressed tones.
"We ended up seeing that John gets triggered by knives. He started freaking out when we served his meals with forks and knives. He even threw one at a helper and cried at the sight of one, so we cut his food up beforehand. We've let him eat with his hands because it's easier, but he isn't afraid of a spoon or a fork. He still can play with others, but he cannot play at length. I could say the same with his talking. Unfortunately, he's more prone to tantrums, so we've had to give him Ativan. I'm confused because there was little to no head trauma, but this injury made his PTSD act up." He took a huge breath before continuing, "If the service was traumatic as you say, this injury may have been a reminder of it. I know you two have escaped the NHS's hands the first time, but if he proves too much, I suggest you put him in their hands. I'm sorry, Mr. Price and Mr. Riley, but it's tragic and miraculous what has happened here during his stay. I wish you the best of luck." He stood up to open the door, "Nurse Holmes will be with you now."
Gaz and Price went back to Soap's room silently. Soap was back on the bed but watching a children's show on the TV.
"Son, stay here," Price broke the ice, "Gaz and I have to talk about something." He gave a firm grasp on his shoulder before opening his door and leading Gaz outside in the hall. "SON OF A BITCH!" He throws his boonie hat on the ground and roughly stomps on it.
"Price, this is a hospital," Gaz kept the hushed tone from the exam room.
"We made so much bloody progress on him!" Price started his tirade, "And now this injury set him back TWO fucking years! TWO! Especially after being kicked out of school and my homeschooling, our efforts are wasted. FUCKING WASTED I TELL YOU!" He continued to stomp on his beanie.
"Price, this isn't Soap's fault," Gaz said, "We're not certain until we take him home."
"I KNOW this isn't Soap's fault. It's YOUR fault, Gaz! You could've dragged him away from the construction site, but NO you bloody didn't! You've taken him outside so many bloody times that he thinks it's like home."
"From what I remember Price, you were the one holding him back at that construction site in Bath!" Gaz argued back, "So don't pin THIS shit on me when it's your fault that Soap's brain is in shit creek without a paddle! He can't be inside learnin' shit all day! That makes a man go crazy!"
"No! No. You've taken him outside to so many asinine places that he's addicted to them. You made him addicted to danger! At least I've funneled my efforts into reading, writing, and arithmetic… So he can function slightly!"
"Hey hey hey! That shit can only do so much, Price! Also, Soap's a fucking child… Children go out and do shit at dangerous areas, that's just how children are! I do it, within reason mind you, because the moppet's gotta channel that energy out somewhere! Kids aren't designed to sit all damn day!" Hospital staff, patients, and patients' relatives looked at the pair in bewilderment as they wove in and out of rooms.
"Well you have to fucking discipline him, Gaz!" Price gave a motion of slamming his hands on the table, "And that's what I've been doing with my work! You can't let him play twenty-four/seven or whatever the fuck! You get an unruly. Little. Shit!" The people stopped in their tracks to stare.
"I FUCKING DO DISCIPLINE SOAP YOU TROGLDYTE!" Gaz slapped Price's hands. Soap then ran out of the open door, panicking.
"Pricey! Gazzy! Why?" Soap mewled, then softly broke down, clinging onto both of them.
"Look what the fuck you made Soap do… You're the troglodyte here!" Price pointed to Soap.
"Hey, hey, hey, Soap. I'm here. Gazzy's here. Look, it's alright," Gaz redirected himself to Soap, hugging him. "Look, Price I get your lashing out, but don't blame me or Soap. It's an honest mistake and he's not dead." He then turned to Price.
"…How can you be so blasé about this?" Price's mood lowered, head hanging low, "It's my fault. I should've held him tighter. If I did, he'd still be somewhat okay."
"It isn't. Soap's a hard bastard, as you said."
"Sirs, I'm going to do a final check on John," A curvy and short woman in Hello Kitty scrubs came up from behind, "I'm Nurse Holmes." She had a wheelchair in tow with a clipboard on it.
"Oh, thank you," Gaz replied, still holding Soap. All four went back to Soap's room. Soap was still cuddling onto Gaz when they sat down on the bed. Price watched from another chair as Nurse Holmes checked his vitals and wrote them down on her clipboard. She even rubbed Soap's back as she looked at her clipboard. Her smile widened as she looked more and then put it down. She then clapped her hands.
"Well it looks like John is ready to go!" The nurse said, "Let's get you on that wheelchair, big boy!" She then slowly dragged Soap away from Gaz and into the wheelchair. Soap still had some stress on his face, but the comfort of the wheelchair lifted his mood. "Let's go to the lobby so you sirs can sign some stuff and all three of you will be on your way home!"
Soap gave a weak yay and a fist pump as he was wheeled into the elevator outside. Gaz and Price followed him and the nurse silently.
In the lobby, they signed their papers in complete silence, only broken by necessary information to complete the task.
Price then commandeered the wheelchair from then on, with Gaz moving the seats of the Ford Focus to fit Soap. Still in silence, Gaz and Price lifted Soap's wheelchair into the back of the car. Price takes the driver's seat and the other gets shotgun. They drive out of the parking lot and into the busy street.
Price's hands on the wheel are firm, weaving in and out of urban traffic. His eyes are locked straight ahead, but occasionally scan his surroundings. He did grow up near here after all, London was a while away given the traffic. Gaz exhaled through his nose, playing a game on his phone. He occasionally looked up from his phone to see what was going on, but he quickly returned to his phone.
The silence in the air was thick. Soap fidgeted more in his strapped down wheelchair. Outside he saw a large German Shepherd bark through a chain link fence. The dog then sat up, vigilantly. "Pricey, look." Soap said, weakly pointing to the dog outside.
"What is it, son?" Price's voice was gravely, thick with inertia.
"Doggie!" Soap squealed with joy, "Look at doggie!"
Price looked behind through his rear-view mirror and saw the dog just behind him at the side. It was a large dog, just still sitting there and staring at the cars. "Yes, Soap, it's a big doggie," He curtly answered as he continued driving.
A few roundabouts later, they were in another urban area. Gaz was still on his phone and Price hasn't uttered a word since. Soap was starting to feel more agitated again. He looked out the window to see a cat. The cat was sitting on the steps, white and fluffy. It was licking itself. "Pricey, kitty..." Soap uttered.
"What is it," Price groaned, and then realizing it was the youngest, "Oh there's a lot of those here, Soap."
"Pricey, pretty kitty..." Soap repeated.
"Well kitties are the same everywhere you go, son." Price sighed. This was a very busy area, so he wasn't even looking at the cat.
"I want it, Pricey," Soap requested.
"Well I can't see the kitty nor can I stop to get it," The former captain went curt again.
"Awwwwwwwww..." The youngest pouted. The weather was rather gloomy today, which didn't help at all. Plenty of cloud cover, some wind, and no sun made the resulting silence worse. It all changed when the sky became darker and rain began pouring out of the sky. The pitter patter of the rain agitated Soap, causing him to whine in his seat.
"It's just a little rain, Soap," The former captain started his flimsy attempt at comfort.
"I don't like the rain!" The youngest continued, fidgeting more. Thunder then roared across the land, releasing a harder rainfall, "Aaaaaah!" He whined even louder and kept doing so at more instances of thunder.
"We'll be home soon!" Price's voice escalated into a yell.
"I want ice cream!" Soap cried.
"It's too bloody cold for ice cream, Soap!" The oldest was now gripping the steering wheel. The street was filled with panic and traffic. "I get you love it, but it makes no damn sense right now!"
"Look, Price," Gaz spoke for the first time in a while, putting his phone down, "I think Soap has a point here. The kid's been through enough shit already. It's only right we give him something that isn't shit hospital food." He turned to Soap, "Isn't that right, Soapy?"
"Gazzy good! Gazzy good!" Soap waved his hands in the air.
"You too?" Price scoffed.
"Look, we've been through some shit too," Gaz countered, "The good thing about ice cream it's still good even when shit's cold." He gave a questionable smirk to the former captain.
"Fine. You win two against one."
Price found parking near a tiny ice cream parlor. Gaz jumped out and stretched his legs and then unstrapped Soap. He then guided Soap out the Ford Focus. Price then took Soap off Gaz's hands and guided him to the ice cream parlor.
The ice cream parlor was small, with only a few tables and some stools. A slim, athletic woman with red hair in a ponytail manned the register. Price began brushing the lint and water off Soap's hoodie. "You three must really like ice cream to go here in a storm!" She called out to them.
"Let's sit here, Soap," Price pointed to a table near the window.
"I don't wanna," Soap meekly demanded.
"Where do you want to sit, son?"
"Here." Soap meekly pointed to the corner table.
"Well why do you want to sit there?"
"I feel weird when people look at me. I don't want them to see me." He hugged himself in response.
"Well okay," Price reluctantly agreed, "I guess. You just came out of the hospital." He led Soap into the corner table, letting him sit at the corner chair. "Gaz, we're sitting here."
"Gotcha." Gaz uttered absently as he looked at the menu. "I'm thinking Soap wants the banana split, right?"
"Yeah," Soap agreed, chewing on the sleeve of his hoodie.
"I'm thinking of sharing the brownie sundae with you, how about that?"
"...That's fine," Price answered, adjusting Soap. "Actually, I just want a cookie sundae."
"So a banana split, a brownie sundae, and a cookie sundae?"
"Yeah."
"Take your time, sir," The girl reminded them. She wore a blue apron and baseball cap over a pink shirt and overalls. The name tag said 'Rosa'.
"Actually, I'm ready," Gaz replied, "I'd like to have one banana split, one brownie sundae with Oreos, and one cookie sundae."
"What cookie do you want? Rosa asked.
"White chocolate macadamia!" Price shouted.
"Alright, that should come up to £14.57. Cash or card?" Rosa rang up the order.
"Card," Gaz whipped out his Visa card and swiped it in. Rosa gave him his receipt and she got to work in making the orders. She then served them personally. As Gaz sat down, another person came into the door. It was another woman in a raincoat, bright pink. She was thickly built with dyed pink wavy hair. Her pale face made it obvious she wasn't from around here. She shook her umbrella and kicked up her shoes on the mat.
"Welcome!" Rosa gave her food service greeting.
"Uh, hello," The other woman said, "Do you know where Oxford is?" Her accent even gave it away as well.
"I'm not even from here either," Rosa replied apologetically, "I'm from America and I go to UCL for English class. Those three should know. I'm so sorry." She pointed to the three.
"Don't be sorry," the other woman replied, sliding over to Gaz and Price. The three finished their food and were now just resting. Soap covered his eyes and turned away. "Excuse me, sirs... Do you know where Oxford is?"
"She scary, go away," Soap whined again.
"Hey, Soap, that's very rude," Price admonished him and then turned to the woman, "Well..."
"Haruka," the woman corrected herself, "I'm Haruka."
"Well Haruka. Oxford is rather kind of far from here," Price continues. Soap continues whining, "Soap this is a woman who's lost, there's nothing scary about her."
Gaz read the room and got up, "I'm getting Soap more water and a cookie." He weaves away to Rosa.
"What's wrong with him?" Haruka looked over at Soap, confused.
"Oh, he's mentally ill," Price answered quickly, "Well Oxford is about 15 kilometers away. Go a bit forward, turn right and then take the roundabout on the left. There should be plenty of signs that will guide you to Oxford."
"Oh, I deal with the mentally ill all the time," Haruka cooed, "Come on, fellow. It's okay. It's okay," she reached out to touch Soap. Soap finally uncovered himself and recoiled, beginning to whine again.
"Haruka, I suggest you don't touch him," Price gently rebuffed her, "He's not a typical mentally ill victim." He began to massage Soap's shoulders. "It's okay Soap, she doesn't mean harm. I'm here. Pricey's here."
Soap squirmed even more. He took one look at Haruka's hair and yelled, "Scary lady! SCARY LADY!"
"Huh, usually people like my pink hair," Haruka commented and then continued cooing, "My hair is not scary, touch it. It's soft. I won't hurt you."
Meanwhile, Gaz ordered the water but was stumped on the cookie. "Rosa I usually get chocolate chip, but I want something different. What would you get?"
"Hmmmm..." Rosa started to think as well, "I'd recommend the M&M's. They're the better ones I've had."
"Well one M&M cookie please."
Haruka now recoiled back as she saw Soap unravel in front of her eyes. He was now crying after he touched her hair. Price was trying to calm him down with the promise of a cookie, but it was in vain.
"She's scary Pricey, make her go away!" Soap was now crying and hugging the wall.
"What's scaring you son? Please speak to me!" Price tried to shake him, but he remained fixed to the wall.
"Hmph! So rude!" Haruka huffed and stomped away. "Thanks for the directions though!"
"Yeah! You better go to Oxford!" Price yelled back. He turned to Soap to rub him, but the damage was done. Soap was now bawling his eyes out.
"Scary nurse has pink hair! Scary lady! Scary nurse! SCARY NURSE SCARY LADY!" Soap was now leaning back against the wall, screaming and rocking in a fetal position.
"Soap calm down, your cookie is coming!" Price tried to pry Soap's arms apart. The youngest cried even harder, smacking away Price's hands.
"Why is your friend screaming?" Rosa asked Gaz as she pointed back.
"Well he's..." Gaz answered, turning back to see Soap fully break down, "Shit..." His voice went flat, "He's..."
"Crazy?" She crosses her arms and tapped her foot. The cookies were almost done baking.
"Not really..." Gaz corrected with a hint of offense, "Mentally ill is the best way to put it."
"...So same thing?"
It was now a cacophonous spectacle between Soap and Price. Soap was now bawling and squeezing Price's hands. Price was now cursing and pulling away. "Let go of me, son! You're bloody hurting me!"
Soap kept wordlessly bawling as he rocked back and forth. The former captain now used that motion to break free. Soap now started to aggressively flap his hands, slamming them onto the table. Rosa was just about to take a cookie from the oven when she heard the napkin box fall to the ground. She now faced a hysterical Soap that was nearly damaging everything within his immediate area.
"She's gone now, Soap! Calm down!" Price was completely out of his seat, trying to get through to him. He reached out to touch him but was forcefully rebuffed.
"And you'll be too!" Rosa snapped, "Get out of my parlor!" She pointed a firm finger to the door.
"What about my cookie?" Gaz was even more offended.
"No more cookie. I want all three of you out before I call the cops!" Rosa demanded, not dropping her finger.
Gaz rushed over to Soap and jammed an Ativan into his mouth. Price dragged the screaming and kicking Soap our from his seat and to the door. Gaz followed, then valiantly struggles in strapping the youngest one in.
The pill only kicked in when they drove out into the street.
Rosa took off her baseball cap and wrung it in her hands. She muttered, "This part time does not pay me enough for this shit and tuition..."
After another tense and silent drive, the trio arrived home. Gaz put Soap in his bed and left the wheelchair next to him. He left the room ajar as he returned to an exhausted Price on the phone with Dr. Raj.
"Soap had a breakdown, err tantrum just today," Price solemnly reported.
"Did he see a knife? Is he hurt?" Dr. Raj asked the basic questions.
"No and he only has bruises from flapping his hands on the table."
"So tell me what happened, Mr. Price."
"Doc, we were at an ice cream parlor and this Japanese tourist lady with pink hair came in and asked for directions. She then proceeded to touch Soap like a baby and he freaked out. She claimed that handled mentally ill people well, but I doubt it now..."
"Mr. Price, I forgot to tell you," Dr. Raj added, "Forgive me for not mentioning this but one of the nurses was cold and harsh to him. She did no major damage, but she had pink hair. John would recoil and hide under the sheets at the sight of her."
"Pink hair is another trigger?" Price's mind was blown.
"Indeed. I am sorry this happened and will be on standby when he needs help. Goodbye." The doctor hung up.
Price rolled his head and then faced Gaz. He cocked an eyebrow and sighed heavily, "How the bloody hell was I supposed to know?"
Soap was still awake, visibly hurt. He knew Price and Gaz still didn't mean to hurt him. They loved him. And he loved them back. Yet he remembered Haruka, Rosa, and the onlookers at the window. Haruka was eerily close to him and was using a voice he thought was weird. Rosa seemed cold and distant. He could hear some of the onlookers laughing at him. Why were they laughing at him? Why were Haruka and Rosa staring at him? Why was everyone but Gaz and Price staring at him? He remembered looking normal. He remembered speaking normally... or was he?
Soap concluded that people that weren't Price, Gaz, or the hospital staff were mean to him.
Yeah, people were mean and that's how it was. Except Pricey and Gazzy of course. Seeing the pink ball of yarn, he began to paw and knead at it.
Gaz and Price were still on the couch, air full of reemerged tension. They were on opposite ends, only looking at the wall and occasionally each other. At the moments where they didn't play on their phones, one would look at the other and raise their finger, but it failed.
This went on for, say, fifteen minutes but it felt like an hour.
Always one to break the silence, Price haggardly sighed, "It's established that what Soap is now is neither of our fault."
"…Technically yours," Gaz gave a snide comment.
"As I was saying," Price continued, raising a finger, "We can only hold Soap physically back so much until he runs towards god knows where. If he really lost two years in cognitive thinking, what are we supposed to teach him?"
"…You can only hold Soap back so much," Gaz continued with the snarky comments.
"I mean, drilling math and English was hard enough…"
"It's only hard because you expect too much of him."
"Gaz? Seriously? A five-year-old should be reading and counting by now."
"In your defense it provides an illusion of the old Soap, buuuut let's be honest here we can't get one hundred percent. What a three-year-old should be learning should make it easier on us, John. Stop whining."
"…But the social shit, Gaz…"
"Hey hey hey!" Gaz gave an authoritative handwave to Price, "That's common sense."
"…Why are you so blasé about this?" Price raised an eyebrow at him.
"Soap is still alive!"
"At what fucking cost, Gaz?"
"He's still here isn't he?" Gaz inhaled through his nose and then stood up, "So what we have to teach him a little more than we have to. I'm surprised by your lack of faith here, John."
"I'm being realistic, Gareth," Price stood up in response, "People at the startup have been complaining about you being late. You make more than me. I can only make so much with me being here with Soap."
"Money, money, money…" Gaz did the blabbing motion with his hand, "We're not fucking yanks! We don't pay out the ass for healthcare!"
"Sure, we don't, but let's be real here… The specialists cost a pretty pence! Let's see the costs here, why don't you?" Price started counting on his hand, "The special children's food, toys, educational costs, medication… It all adds the bloody shit up!" He threw his hands up in the air.
"So what the hell's your solution?" Gaz had his arms crossed.
"I'm saying if Soap now is too much for the both of us, we might have to send him to NHS housing," Price said in resignation through gritted teeth.
"WE WENT OVER THIS SHIT LAST TIME!" Gaz threw his hands up in the air too, "We. Aren't. Doing. That!"
"They can do a better job than we can," Price said, voice low, "We're stretched thin already."
"They're crowded as fuck and they hire shit people… NO."
"I'm not saying now…"
The pink yarn ball fell off the bed and rolled past the door. Soap leapt off his bed on all fours and kept pawing at the ball. It rolled further away from his room until it bounced off the door. In playing, Soap scooted all the way out in the living room and tossed the yarn ball up and down in place.
He then stopped to see Price and Gaz arguing once again. Only hearing "send him to the NHS" and "teach him more" and "stop whining", he mewled, "You don't like me too?"
Gaz and Price stopped to see a yarn-covered Soap tearfully sitting up. Price lumbered forward and cooed, softly, "Son, we don't hate you."
Gaz followed, "Soap we're not talking about getting rid of you. We love you… Why do you think we're getting rid of you?"
Soap thinks he sees past them and stumbles away rapidly into his room. He slams and locks the door. Inside, he wipes his tears and finally passes out on his bed.
The next day…
Simon "Ghost" Riley wakes up in his government flat. He had the option of going back to his childhood home, but he signed an agreement to have it demolished. Good riddance. His flat was clean, white, and spartan; a reminder of a new life and nothing about his old one. It's in the metropolitan heart of London, where he can see the lights, busy streets and people, and Big Ben itself. Wiping his eyes, he gets dressed.
Ghost is no longer the soldier of Task 141, but instead a tech support in a polo and trousers. He shares Gaz's thick shaggy hair but it's lighter. There's scars on his face but he wears them proudly, no balaclava. Getting his phone, wallet, and keys, he gets into his Toyota Tundra and drives to see his former superior Soap.
He's only heard snippets about his condition from his older cousin Gaz. Injuries so grievous that his cousin and Price (he shuddered about that name) had to take care of the Scotsman. He wonders what kind would down him so much. Ghost only has major memories of Soap being a hard bastard.
He curious but at the same time concerned.
Luckily his job gave him the time off to finally visit Soap's home. Gaz wasn't all that far from him but the traffic made him think otherwise. He wiped his feet on the welcome mat, kept his back straight, and knocked on the door. Hearing no response, he rang the doorbell. Immediately, his older cousin answers the door.
Gaz wears the same choppy hair and is in a black shirt and flannel pants. He jumps forward to give his younger cousin a noogie. Ghost breaks free and does the same to Gaz, only bending over.
"Christ, it's been bloody forever since we've seen each other!" Gaz broke free, laughing.
"Look at you, 'cuz!" Ghost yelled back, "You look like shit."
"I could say the same to you!" They slapped each other's backs.
"Where's Price and Soap anyway?"
"Well…" Gaz scratched his back, "Price is doing some intel work and Soap… Soap is…"
"…Okay?" Hope clung to the last syllable.
"In short he looks like shit, but I'd like you to make the call yourself, Simon," Gaz led the way, "Come with me." Simon immediately followed. They walked across the living room and in front of Soap's door. The crude writing on the tag weirded out Simon but he shrugged it off. Gaz started to softly knock on the door. No response. He then started to knock again. "Soap?"
"Soap?" Simon repeated as Gaz kept knocking.
"Soap," Gaz raised his voice slightly. Still no response. He put his ear to the door.
Nothing.
He turned the knob. Stuck.
"…Shit," The elder cousin gave a sharp yet soft curse. He stepped away from Soap's door and went down the hall. Simon wordlessly followed after him. Gaz opened the door, peering into a Price hunched over his laptop and paperwork. Price looked up, somewhat annoyed.
"…The hell is it?" Price rolled his eyes.
"Erm… Soap's got a visitor," Gaz responded back. He motioned to Ghost behind him, "But Soap ain't responding and the door's locked."
"…Shite," Price got up from his workspace and opened a hidden drawer, producing one master pick lock out of a few. He walked up out of the door. Looking to Simon, he greeted, "Hello Simon."
"Hello Price." Ghost flatly returned the greeting.
"Surprised you're here today," Price continued flatly.
"…Could say the same thing to you," Ghost returned flatly, "You know Soap has friends other than you, you know."
"I'm aware."
"And that Gaz has family in the fold and it makes sense that family should visit him?"
"No, I'm aware. He speaks about you."
"He's done more than that, and in all fairness Soap and I are much closer than you think."
"Uh-huh." Price jammed the lock pick into Soap's door. With a few deft swipes and pushes, the knob turned back, and the door slid open. All three observed that Soap's room was still dark, with toys scattered on the floor. The boy was nowhere to be seen, with only a bit of his mohawk peeking from under the covers.
"Shhh…" Gaz motioned a finger in front of his lips, but Simon ignored that completely as he barreled over to Soap. He jumps spread eagle onto his bed and peels the covers back.
"Wake up you son of a bitch!" Simon bellows as he gives Soap a noogie right on the mohawk, "You look like shit, son!" He laughs as Soap struggles against his hands. He then notices Soap's passivity. Soap wasn't speaking or struggling as much. It seemed like Soap wasn't reacting much at all. Simon then peels himself off his former superior and takes a deep look.
On the outside, Soap hasn't changed much. He still looks like the same Soap he knew from the 141. Same mohawk, same face (except a few scars), and almost the same build (the pink shirt was off-putting but who was he to care). The expression on his face said a different story: his face was completely blank. He just sat upward, looking on at the larger cockney in front of him.
"…Remember me, Soap?" Ghost softened up, pointing to himself, "Remember? I'm your right-hand man… Was?"
The air was at a standstill, with Gaz and Price awkwardly looking on. Soap didn't budge.
"C'mon Soap," Ghost continued, "I'm Simon Riley. I served with you in the 141?" He started to chuckle, "Remember? We served under Shepherd? We had a whole team…? Soap? John MacTavish? Helloooooo?"
Soap still didn't budge.
"You aren't fucking with me now, are you?" Ghost kept going, "If you are, that's one helluva dedicated prank right there! It's been long enough, I should be expecting a major noogie or some swirlie now…" He turned to Gaz and Price, flabbergasted, "You seeing this shit?"
"About that…" Price eyed the door, "There's things we have to discuss outside."
"Soap's fucking with me right?" Simon asks both Price and Gaz. All three are in the living room, Gaz and Price on the couch with Simon on the recliner. "Right?"
"Simon, there's really no easy way to say this…" Gaz scratched the back of his head once more.
"He's really learned from the best went it comes to fucking with people, Gaz," Ghost gave finger guns to his elder cousin, "Remember that time when you told me you're with-" He motioned to Price, "Like holy shit, I thought you were kidding until you really broke it down for me… Gross!"
"This is actually serious…" Gaz put a palm to his forehead, "Can you please listen, Simon?"
"Sure, but if it's a joke, you guys really made one helluva prank!"
"You know the fall injuries from his time in Prague, right?"
"I'm know."
"…And the knife injuries from when Shepherd betrayed us?"
"Yeah, glad he pulled that knife out to kill the bastard."
"It's not just those injuries."
"What do you mean?" Ghost leaned forward.
"We took Soap to your medic and it seems like everything that happened to him just came crashing down. Like that fall burst through the dam of all the injuries he's had mental and physical, Simon. He had nightmares and ended up scared of certain things."
"Like I was after Mexico?"
"Yes, but he wasn't homicidal like you, Simon."
"Shit."
"Shit doesn't cover it. He went… the other way. The medic said he has PTSD, but…" Gaz took a deep breath before continuing, "He's regressed mentally. He's not the same Soap we know before anymore. Soap became comparable to a five-year-old. We've had to anchor him here but even then because of that, he ran into a construction site. The resulting accident made him comparable to a three-year-old."
"You're fucking with me, right Gaz?" Ghost chuckled nervously, not knowing what to think, "You're both in on this, right?"
"He's right, Simon," Price spoke up, motioning to the now active Soap kneading on a plush toy near the kitchen. Soap was now singing the alphabet song to himself. He then saw the TV and ran to open it. Seeing it was Peppa Pig, he clapped his hands and laughed as he sat down and squeezed his toy. Simon swallowed thickly.
"The man can't even write his name or even draw anymore," Gaz sorrowfully replied, producing a picture from the bottom of the coffee table. It was below the skill that Simon was accustomed to from Soap, a formerly skilled artist. The picture was an incredibly crude rendition of the 141, all made with blobs and dot eyes, even with the colors accurate. The tank was a box and Shepherd was a stick with a mustache. The most heartbreaking of all was the depiction of himself: A black human blob with an extremely slopping rendering of a skull with red glasses. That made his blood run cold. The childish writing that said, 'John MacTavish, aged 30', pushed him over the edge.
Ghost stood up, muttering some curses to himself. The fact his former superior was now mentally a child was too much for the man. He took a vase and tossed it across the room, earning a crash on the floor. He then kicked the coffee table over, almost cracking the glass.
He went over to the hat collection that Gaz and Price both shared and threw it off the shelf. He stomped on the hats as his curses grew louder and louder. Soap turned back to see a berserk Simon stomping his way across the apartment. He yelped and held his plush toy tight. Ghost then took the roll of paper towels and threw them like a baseball. He let out an anguished roar.
He continued to roar as he tore a pillow apart and then did the same to all the curtains in the residence.
Price held the small of Gaz's back. They both knew better than intervene with someone violent as Ghost. The former captain then whispered, "You were right to be the one to tell him. If I did it, he'd kill me."
"Too right," Gaz replied, holding Price back, "And I'll have to explain the rest."
Ghost's rampage wasn't done yet. He then started to punch the walls to the point he cracked one open and revealed the stud next to the hole he made. Soap was now weeping at the hole in the wall. Price took it as a signal to go to Soap, not without leaving a peck on Gaz's forehead.
Price rolled away to Soap, squatting as his level. "Son, it's me, Price. It's okay, I am here. Come into my arms, don't look." He spoke softly and slowly as he extended his arms out to him. Soap scooted in them, ignoring yesterday's scuffle and seeking refuge in Pricey's arms. He still wept, but only in gradually quieting bursts. He wrapped his arms around Price's back.
Gaz on the other hand, stood up with arms crossed. He gave a glare at Simon, before using his instructor voice. "After you've taken your rage out on all our shit, I'd like to explain further about the situation Price and I are in about Soap!
Gaz's voice was like a signal to Ghost, who looked away while punching the wall for what was the fortieth time. His knuckles connected with a stud, earning an agonizing scream. For the first time in a while, he stood still, but rubbing his knuckles.
"Seems like you're done so I'm going to continue," Gaz continued in this voice," Price and I made our decision to work close to here to deal with Soap. Soap here isn't one hundred percent malicious. He's actually pretty harmless in this state, acting like some kid. Sure, he has his tantrums, but we've learned to snuff that out pretty quickly. Since he acts like a toddler, we've given him toddler things. And yes, at one point, we've thought of chucking him into the NHS, but given how crowded and shitty it is (Thanks Mirabelle, you fat cunt). We've tried to give him special education, but he stabbed a girl in a fit. Turns out homeschooling was a bit better since he behaves better with Price. So, before you go on a rampage, I suggest you listen how we've dealt with it rather than traumatizing the poor bastard even further."
Simon had his back to Gaz for a little bit. Rubbing out any excess pain from his knuckles, he swiftly turned around. He dashed towards Soap, leading with a right upper hook.
"BULL. FUCKING. SHIT!" He roared, causing Soap to burst out into tears again as Price dragged him back.
"Have you been listening to me?!" Gaz sprinted to grab his little cousin's arm and stopped his leg with his other foot. The elder cousin then did a one arm shoulder throw and slammed him on the floor. "I break shit down and this is your response? What bloody part of traumatizing the poor bastard further don't you get?"
Unsurprisingly, Ghost slowly gets up and brushes the dust off his person. He looks down on Gaz, who now has his hands on his hips. He raises his hands up in the air, but unceremoniously puts them back down again. He now speaks, "Gaz, I completely understand what you are doing, and I still appreciate what you did for me and now Soap." Ghost then turns to Price, looking down on the oldest man in the room, "…However, I find it hard to care when this is all because of you, Price. Or should I say, Captain John Price."
"The hell are you going on about?" Price held Soap tighter, who stopped crying and now looked up at Ghost in wonder.
"Anyway," Ghost continued, "It pisses me off that you had Soap as a FNG, someone still new to the world. He looked up to you, Price. You had the very responsibility to be a mentor to Soap. You took a hot, wet shit all over it! Yeah, you taught him but you in all your intelligence decided to rationalize dragging him along your grudge matches! The man wanted to fucking learn, not be your personal lackey. Soap wanted to live, not die! The bridge on Russia, you firing the nukes, the fucking desert, and then that shit in Prague… Have you no shame? I know I shouldn't be the one to talk, but I know shitty leadership when I see it. You speak to Soap as your son, but what kind of father sends him to die? As his best friend, I'll have to say you don't care about Soap. I bloody said it. You don't give a shit about Soap! All you fucking care about is revenge! You are so obsessed with Makarov, Shepherd, and Zakhaev that you abandon your men in the gulag… For five fucking years! Five years of bullshit where I had to step in to care for Gaz and Soap-"
"I'm going to stop you right there!" Gaz cut through Ghost's tirade, "While it's true Soap was under Price's tutelage, he cares plenty about Soap. He's been a role model for him, so it's not like he let war be the teacher the entire time! Whenever he was there, we were safe and successful, when he wasn't Soap emulated him and we ended up the same. Not to deny Price's lesser actions, but if you want to blame something, you can blame Shepherd, Makarov, Zakahaev, and Al-Asad. If it weren't for them, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!"
"…Okay then," Ghost scoffed, walking out of the door and leaving silently. Gaz and Price then began to clean up, with Soap following the latter. After they were done, Price read Soap a story in his bed until he fell asleep.
Later…
Soap woke up and still stuck to Price like glue. He watched TV with Price, participated in video calls with MacMillan with Price, walked with Price, and even tried to go to the bathroom with Price. But Price locked him out while he heavily leaned on the door. By the time he was done, Soap clung to his leg. Gaz stood out in the hallway, smirking.
"I think he likes you."
"No shit," Price scoffed.
The next day…
"Well, Soap," Price started with the kitchen table. He looked a little haggard due to having to sleep with Soap. "I'm going to teach you how to make a sandwich. It's best you learn because we won't be here all the time. And I know you don't like going outside so this is convenient."
"Okay!" Soap said in a lilted sing-songy voice.
"Since Gaz is gone to get a new coffee table, it'll just be you and me, son," Price continued. He opened the bread, "Here are two slices of bread." He set them down on a purple plate.
"Bread," Soap mimicked Price.
"Yes, son, that's the bread." The former captain then grabbed the knife and put it in the open jar of jam. "Then you get some jam and spread it on to one slice. After you get it even, you put the other slice on top." He then put the slices of bread together and showed Soap the jam sandwich. "You try." He opened the bread again and faced it in Soap's direction.
Soap pulled two slices of bread out and set it on his pink plate. It matched his pink shirt and dark purple sweatpants. He then grasped the knife and scooped the jam out onto the bread. Spreading it slowly, he was mesmerized by the jam pooling around the bread. It was strawberry jam, a personal favorite of all three. When he lifted the knife, he saw it was empty. He gave a childish whine and threw it on the floor. Staring at it fearfully, he kneaded on Price's shoulders.
"You were almost there, son." Price could only flatly comment, "C'mon, put the slices together now." He peeled Soap off himself and held his hands to make the sandwich. There was a little jam but Soap licked it off. "Good job, Soap." Soap then ate his sandwich, but not without some mess.
After their lunch, they played Charades. Soap was the actor and Price had to guess. Soap pulled out a card. Confused, he asked, "How do I do paint?"
"Shush!" Price gave a hushed reply, "You can't say the word." He put the card down and gave him another one. "You have to act it out."
Soap looked at the new card and said, "Doggie."
"No," Price gave a hurried correction, putting that card into the pile, "You can't say. You have to act it." Soap then got another card from the deck.
After a few minutes of looking at the card, Soap managed a noise, "Meow."
"Cat!" Price guessed. Soap jumped in the air and gave a little 'yay'.
This was going to be a long road.
Tomorrow…
Soap was kneading and scratching Price's files. He was in his room, with the file drawer open and there were papers everywhere. He was pulling papers out of the folders and then throwing them up in the air. When enough papers blanketed the floor, he rolled around in it, imitating a purr.
This didn't last long though, with Price barging in to see his papers.
"Sweet merciful crap, my paperwork!" Price put his hands behind his head and tried to pick the papers. However, the more paperwork he picked up, the more seemed to pop up from Soap rolling around. "Soap stop it!"
Soap continued to roll around.
Price repeated himself but more sternly.
Soap still rolled around.
Price raised his voice.
Soap didn't listen.
Price sighed in resignation. He started to yell, "If you don't stop, I won't take you to McDonald's!"
Soap stopped, but shyly said, "I don't want to go to McDonald's."
"Nando's!" Price switched it up.
"I don't want Nando's."
"Toy store."
"I don't want to go."
"The park?"
"No."
"The courtyard?"
"Nope."
"Strange…" Price muttered, "You usually like it when I take you outside."
"I don't want to go outside," Soap's voice faded, with a very sad look in his eyes.
"Well," Price gave a paused, putting a finger to his chin, "I've got an idea. How about you watch TV in the living room while I clean up." Soap gave a weak nod and walked to the TV. Price started to clean properly, but the thought of Soap becoming agoraphobic clung in his thoughts. He followed Soap after put everything together and shredded the torn papers.
He went to the dented fridge and called Soap over. Soap still weakly walked over to him, peering into the fridge. "Today, I'm going to teach you how to heat up food." Price took out a cup of rice. "First, you're going to take some food from the fridge, open it, and put it in the microwave." He opened the lid and put it in the microwave.
"Microwave." Soap softly parroted the last word.
"Then I'm going to put in a minute," Price continued. He pressed the one-minute button on the microwave. They looked at the rotating rice cup until the dinging noise. The former captain opened the door and took the rice out. He then got a spoon and started to eat it. Between bites, he said, "You try."
Soap then got a pop tart from the fridge. He ripped open the foil and put it on a pink plate. He then put a pink plate in the microwave and pressed the one-minute button. Both watched the pastry spin until it made a loud pop. Soap let out a jump while Price peered at the inside of the microwave.
The pop tart exploded.
He stopped the timer and gave whatever pieces he could salvage to Soap. Soap ate his food regardless. After they ate, they went over to the dinner table. Price took out a tub of crayons and some coloring books. Before they started coloring, Price said a reminder, "Soap, if you're going to microwave something small, you should press 30 seconds. Big things need a minute."
"Mmmkay," Soap mumbled as he was very engaged in a picture of a cat.
Price shook his head, seeing the haphazard pink coloring on the cat. He misses the lifelike renditions that his protégé would do, and his better cognitive abilities.
Price and Soap were now playing memory, with many cards face down on the table. Soap was flipping them. He gave a curt curse as he didn't get a pair.
"Fuck!" Soap spewed.
"Language!" Price put a finger to his lips, "Don't say that."
Soap then tried again. He didn't get another pair and cursed again, "Shite!"
"You don't say that either!"
"Fuck, shite?"
"Stop it, it's my turn." Price flipped some cards, but he couldn't get a pair either. Price was about to go again, but the door swung open. Outside were Gaz and Ghost. He looked on and said, "The bloody hell you doing here, Simon? You gonna break our shit again?"
"No," Simon replied, offended, "I'm here because my cousin needs help with the coffee table."
"Yeah," Gaz echoed the sentiment, "Simon found one cheap and offered to help carry it over, so be grateful." The two cousins lumbered through the door, then to the living room to set it down. It was a sturdy wooden one, so it couldn't crack this time.
"Also I want to see Soap," Ghost wiped his hands, "I had a talk with my medic about and he had a point but…" He brushed the dust off on his pants, "I ain't gonna buy into the bullshit, but I might as well be there for him."
"Oh boy, here we go again," Price sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Soap looked blankly at Simon, who was in more casual wear: green shirt and brown sweatpants. Simon extended his hand out, but Soap flinched.
"Hey, Soap," Simon softly greeted, "Remember me? I'm Ghost, remember?" Instead of giving him a noogie, he ruffled the remnants of his mohawk.
"Ghost!" Soap squealed in joy.
"Yes, I'm Ghost, mate! Glad you remember," Ghost then turned to Price, "The hell we playing here?"
"We're playing memory," Price answered, "Watch your language 'cuz he's been picking up the wrong words."
"Well that won't be a problem, wouldn't it be?" Ghost plopped down on the chair. He flipped two cards over confidently. Yet to no avail, he didn't get a pair. "Well, shit!"
"SHIT!" Soap screamed after him.
"SIMON!" Price pounded his hands on the table, "The bloody hell did I tell you?"
"Well, Soap, it's your turn," The younger cousin led Soap's hand to the cards.
Soap then flipped over two cards. By dumb luck, he managed to get a pair. He threw his hands up in the air, shouting, "FUCK YEAH!"
"Soap, stop it!" Price yelled back, pointing to Soap.
Ghost then whispered in his best friend's ear, "Keep doin' it, mate! It's you anyway."
The day tumbled by and into the next week. Ghost came over again and this time they were going to take Soap into the park. All four were crammed into the eldest man's Ford Focus, about to drive away. Soap was quiet and calm until Price drove out of the garage and into the city.
"Where are we going?" Soap asked.
"The park, it's your favorite," Price answered, smiling at him.
"…But I don't want to go," Soap whined.
"Bloody 'ell, you were telling us you wanted to go," Ghost groaned.
"Yeah, you were telling us all week that you wanted to go the park," Gaz complained, "Why didn't you say you didn't want to earlier?"
By the time Gaz spoke, they were already in the parking lot. Price did a parallel park near the street and held Soap firmly as he got off. The two cousins were walking out on their own. For Price it was a different story.
Soap was struggling against Price's hands. The former captain tried to calm him down, but Soap was anchoring himself to the car. The younger was whining and saying that he wanted to stay. Price then said, "Soap, please for the good of everyone here, behave. I know you don't like going outside, but it's good that you're out of the house. It's for your own good, we don't even have to be here long."
"Wait, am I bloody hearing this right?" Ghost walked back to the car, "Soap doesn't like going outside? The hell is this?"
"He's been afraid of people ever since getting out of the hospital," Gaz explained, "But we've been trying to alleviate the problem."
Ghost scoffed and walked up towards Soap, authoritatively asking him, "Why don't you like going outside?"
"People are mean and scary," Soap's eyes became glassy.
"Well, we're people. We're not mean and scary, are we?" Ghost argued back.
Something in Soap's eyes glinted, as he replied, "No…"
"I suggest you shouldn't argue with him," Gaz whispered to his younger cousin.
"Yeah, don't reason with the fellow," Price added, "Come on, son, we can play on the grass." He was still tugging Soap, but with no avail.
"The fellows at the hospital took care of you, didn't they?" Ghost continued.
"Stop it," Gaz spat to him.
"Yeah… but this pink nurse was mean and scary," Soap was now conflicted, looking at both Price and Ghost as he still sat on the edge of the car.
"Don't complicate things, Simon," Price finally grabbed Soap off the car, but the youngest sat on the ground.
"I'm so confused," Soap muttered to himself.
"Well, Soap," Ghost crossed his arms, "If you're going to give my cousin and his man a hard time… Let me take you to the NHS!" He grabbed Soap and ran across the park. Soap broke down crying while the other two chased after him. "It's not fucking fair this PTSD shit has put your brain in a blender and made you a childish retard. Why? Fucking why? You shouldn't be like this. It's obvious you're a burden to my cousin and Price, so why don't just send you to the NHS? WHY?" He set Soap down, who was still bawling.
"I not okay, okay?" Were Soap's most coherent words in a while.
"No fucking shit you aren't!" Ghost yelled in his face.
"Me not the same," Soap continued through tears.
"Wait, you're aware of this?"
Soap stopped crying and only sobbed in short bursts. He only nodded his head. Gaz and Price just caught up to him now. The two confronted Simon. Price stepped forward, holding a fist in the air, "What kind of business do you have kidnapping Soap?"
"I wanted to reason with him," Ghost sighed his answer in rapid fire, "I wanted to know why."
"There are damn well no why's for PTSD, Simon," Gaz stepped in, holding back Price's fist.
"Nor turning back?" Simon's softened for the first time in a while.
"No." Both Gaz and Price said. Ghost stepped back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Soap immediately ran to Price's side, clinging on to his waist.
"This is going to be a bitch to comprehend." Ghost sighed, cradling his head in his hands.
So, everyone went home and recuperated. Price called Dr. Raj and got Soap a walk-in appointment the next day.
Unfortunately, there was nothing further Dr. Raj could do and gave them a number for further therapy should they need it. Nurse Holmes came in and gave Soap a grape lollipop. Haruka came in too, but in scrubs and ruffled Soap's mohawk. She gave him some strawberry soda. He didn't freak out this time as Price was watching him like a hawk now.
Gaz called Ghost more often. His younger cousin was visiting his old medic to ask more questions now.
They ended their day coloring and watching TV in their repaired home. Ghost immediately brought his cost of his damage over to them to speed things up. Gaz was coloring a picture of Mickey Mouse and Soap was coloring Marie from The Aristocrats. Price was reading a newspaper and listening to the TV.
"Mom, me want pudding," Soap stopped coloring.
"Do you mean me?" Gaz pointed to himself, eyebrows raised.
"Yeah, mom, get Soap some bloody pudding," Price spoke over his newspaper. Gaz shook his head and got Soap some pudding.
Price put out a chessboard over the new coffee table. He laid it out and put the pieces in their proper places. Soap was on the other side, rolling a pawn in his fingers.
"So, this is how you play chess, Soap," Price introduced, "You take turns moving pieces and hitting them, so you can take the king piece." He lifted the king piece to show to Soap. Soap dropped the pawn and started to roll the king in his hands. Price puts the king back and starts the match by moving one of his pawns forward.
Soap then moves a pawn forward but close to the captain's side. Price then moves it back to one space. "Son, pawns can only move one forward."
"Mmmkay," Soap mumbles as he looks at the pawn. Price then moves another pawn. Soap then moves another pawn forward one. Price then moves a knight forward. "Why does that horsey move funny?"
"Well, this is a knight and they move in a L shape," He traces the knight in a L-shape, "Try it." Soap then moved the knight.
They played a rather peaceful game, where Price won but he let Soap play with the pieces.
Gaz and Price were now on the couch, snuggling. Soap was in front of the TV playing with a purple ball of yarn. He was rolling around and tossing it up and down. The couple was rather amused by the TV and Soap. Soap was very into his yarn, until it flew out of his hands into Price's lap. He crawled towards them with puppy eyes.
"Here you go son," Gaz picked up the ball of yarn and threw it behind the TV.
"Great job, mom," Price whispered. Gaz gave him a peck on the cheek.
After much discussion, Ghost came back to the residence. This time, everyone was out at the courtyard in the center of their apartment complex. They were playing catch with a pink and purple dodgeball. The cousins started by throwing it to each other, and then tossed it to Soap. Soap then threw it to Price. They established a rhythm from there on.
"Nice catch, mum," Ghost complimented Gaz.
"Oh come on, you're in on this too?" Gaz groaned, almost dropping the ball.
"Everyone's in on it, Gaz" Price chuckled.
"Yay, mum!" Soap caught the ball and threw it to Ghost.
"I guess this is my life now," Gaz chuckled.
"Mine too," Ghost added in, "Right Soap?"
"Yeah," Soap agreed.
"Huh?" Gaz asked.
"Well," Ghost announced, "I just wanted to say something. First of all, I wanted to apologize to you Gaz, for being a dick to you after all the shit you did for me. Second, Price I know you and I don't have the greatest relationship, but I'm sorry for demeaning you and wrecking your shit. You've done an amazing job caring for Soap as he was and is now." He then turned to Soap, "Most of all, Soap, you're my best friend and no amount of mental illness will change that. I've had a long talk with my medic and it put things in perspective. We have the same demons and there's no way we can go back no matter how hard we try. War's a bitch, but we're tougher."
"Yeah, I love you too Ghost," Soap leapt and gave a great bear hug to Ghost. Gaz and Price beamed pridefully as the sun shone overhead.
"Thank you for acknowledging my efforts Simon," Price went up to slap Ghost's back, "Soap's the son I never had and nothing will make me abandon him."
"And Soap's a part of you," Gaz stepped in, "And you're always a part of me, Simon."
"Thank you!" Soap yelled in a sing-songy voice.
A/N: For more stories like these or something of within your tastes, come and commission me on tumblr under TarTarIcing! R&R folks!