AN:

Well, this is my first upload on here, my first COD fanfic to be put up full stop. This is meant to be taken after Shepherd's death, with Roach and Ghost both surviving (I know, I just loved them far too much to let them die, kukuku ;D). More details will emerge as the story goes on; I'm not all too sure how long this'll be but it'll be 10+ chapters anyway.

Enjoy and R+R please!

Socks

The sun was only beginning to rise, yet there was activity about the base. A mission has been called through, and the team was already preparing to depart. Out on the open of the barren base, a Black Hawk sat, almost perched, ready to fly. In amongst the bustle of men moving back and forth, weapons being stashed and support loaded onto the chopper, a pair of figures stood, framed by the early sun.

A man, clad in the usual T-141 gear, but his face covered by a black balaclava, a headset drooped around his neck. His companion only reached mid-thigh, dressed in a loose white t-shirt that fell to his knees and plain shorts, obviously pajamas, and a mop of light brown hair, blinking sleep out of his small eyes. In time, the elder gently dropped to one knee, laying a gentle hand on the smaller's head. Their conversation was gentle, muddled amongst the hustle of movement from the others.

" Be a good boy while I'm gone, alright?"

" Yes Daddy."

" Do as Soap says, and don't bother the guys okay?"

" Yes Daddy."

" Good lad..."

There was a pause, before the child threw his arms around his father's neck, gently being hoisted into the air as he stood up, a soft chuckle filling the air. The boy sniffed, burrowing his head into his protector's neck, and mumbled to him.

" Come home soon Daddy... I miss you when you're gone..."

The elder smiled beneath his mask, gently pulling it down and pressing his lips to the child's forehead.

" I will son, I promise. I'll be home in no time."

The boy sniffed again, small face wrinkled with line of worry, fingers curled into the material of his father's shirt. The moment, however, dissolved as someone spoke from beside the man.

" Ghost. We're moving out."

The speaker stood, an almost regretful look on his face for having interrupted the father and son, his voice ringing in a clear, brash, Scottish accent. Beside him, a slightly shorter man stood, the same look of apology on his face, scratching a bearded chin. Ghost nodded, gently looking back down to his young charge.

" Time to go, little man. Now remember, no pranks, go to bed when you're told, and listen to Uncle Soap..."

The little boy giggled, nodding in agreement, receiving one last kiss from his father before being placed back on the ground, half stumbling in bare feet over to the Soap, clinging to his trouser leg.

" 'No pranks'? That'll be right..."

" Well, he's been warned..."

Soap laid a hand on the young boy's head, smiling down at him.

" Takes after his father too much to listen though. Far too stubborn... Ach, we'll be fine, won't we laddie?"

The little boy nodded, laying his head against the man's leg, looking towards his father, who was pulling his balaclava back up, and strapping on his holsters. Price gave Soap a friendly pat on the back; the two captains shared control of the task force, and took turn about leading the missions, the other controlling from base. After Shepherd's death, the nature of T-141 had changed, and a permanent base had been set up, in hopes it would make controlling the missions easier on whoever was commanding, as well as being able to allow the whole team to gather as one, and relax somewhat. Today, it was Soap's turn to sit behind the radio. He wasn't particularly keen on the idea, he preferred being on the battle field, but it was the deal. Besides, he always had the kid to keep him company.

Said child was currently wriggling in his arms, waving at super speed to the men boarding the chopper, eyes fixated on Ghost. Ghost was last on, turning to close the chopper door behind the men, giving his son one last small wave, before slamming the door closed. Soap turned, heading back towards the buildings as the rotors began to spin, kicking up a dust storm that made nearly all invisible. Once they were inside, the little boy ran to the window, watching as the helicopter disappeared into the distance, green eyes shining. Soap watched for a moment, before walking over and joining him at the window.

" He'll be back, Tigger."

The boy turned to look at Soap, his bottom lip protruding into an unmissable pout, quivering gently.

" I know...but I still miss 'im."

" I know laddie, I know. But he's going out to keep the world safe, you should be proud."

The child didn't reply, still watching after where the helicopter had disappeared. At 4, he was perhaps too young for the whole pep talk, Soap decided. But MacTavish wasn't a man without a heart, and the kid had found a place in it quite early on. It was probably true for most of the men of the 141.

" C'mon Tigger. Let's go see who's on the radio."