This is stupid.
I'll go back to Hetalia shit next time I swear
Warning: this crap is shippy. And I mean shippy. It's supposed to take part around 'Cliffhanger', if you didn't get that.
Enjoy!
Focus, Sanderson!
Watching MacTavish sit himself down in the crunching snow makes me wonder how on earth everyone in the 141 seems to be so casual with everything. I mean, he lights his cigar and takes a drag on it like he's sat at home on the patio watching the sun go down. Not exactly the kind of behaviour you expect when you're deep in the Tian Shan Mountains, right? I sit down next to him, but cling on for dear life at the same time, as subtly as possible of course. Don't want MacTavish to think I'm pussying out at this stage. I try to look out at the view, but it's too fucking snowy to see anything decent. There's just snow and clouds, that's it. Kind of like some people imagine heaven to be like. Yeah, right. Heaven. MacTavish and Roach went to heaven to retrieve the ACS module. We'll have to sneak past fluttering angels and maybe even contend with God himself.
Although if Makarov's the deity, I can see him being more like Satan.
"Ghost wanted to come on this mission." MacTavish says suddenly, taking a long drag of his cigar.
I kick a chunk of snow off the cliff, and it disintegrates on the way down. I can't see where it lands. I don't really know how to respond to his comment, either. Call me antisocial, but I've never been one for talking. I just don't see the point. There's going to be times when they'll hope to God that I won't talk, so what's the point in ever starting? At least, that's what I'm sticking with.
"Like I said, mate. He wanted to come."
Ghost always wants in on the exciting missions. He probably just wanted a chance to snipe some Russians and get in a few knife kills to brag about back at the base.
"He was worried," MacTavish takes another drag of the cigar, "that a muppet like you wouldn't survive this."
Ghost can talk all he likes. I shuffle uncomfortably in my icy seat. Ghost always talks rubbish anyway; he's the one who can't take a bullet without yelling. It would be nice if MacTavish had brought folding chairs or something, since this mission is apparently turning into just a casual little chat at the edge of the chasm.
"I'm not a muppet." I mumble, taking a while to find my words. I think that's the most I've said all week.
MacTavish laughs at me. "He's worried about you, Roach. Thinks the world of you."
Ghost also thinks the world of car batteries and beating people until they talk to him. Thankfully I've never had a conversation beaten out of me. He thinks the world of torture, so I'm not entirely sure how to feel about that so-called compliment. I can't imagine him as the kind of guy who likes to play Mother Hen. Maybe he's just impressed that I can take a bullet without screaming, unlike him.
"You'd better not get killed, mate." MacTavish is about halfway through his cigar. I wonder how many he's planning on smoking before we can get this over and done with. "I'll have hell to pay."
Ghost might hook him up to a car battery. Or maybe he'll go old-school and just throw around a few punches. I don't say any of this, though.
"He likes you a lot." MacTavish catches my eye and grins. I assume that I don't have to make any expression in return, since my face is pretty much entirely covered up. I don't like the cold, and MacTavish doesn't look all that comfortable with the icicles in his beard. A MiG flies overhead and he flicks the cigar over the edge of the cliff; I watch it fall down. Like the snow, I don't see it hit the bottom.
"Break's over Roach. Let's go."
Oh God. I attempt to follow MacTavish around the narrow ledge, gripping the cliff tightly with every step. I hope that the next mission is somewhere hotter and closer to sea-level. The drop below us seems infinite. I follow him up the icy climb and practically have a heart attack when he slips a little. Yeah, I really hope that we go somewhere nicer next time. Maybe Italy, or Spain. Holiday destinations. That's why I joined the 141, for the visits abroad. MacTavish runs to the edge of the cliff once I manage to stagger onto the ledge and he leaps off, digging his ice picks into the other side and working his way back up. Oh God, I have to do that! I've never been particularly good at jumping long distances, but I give it my best shot and dig my picks into the ice. They rip huge cracks in the chasm and I start to fall.
Oh my God.
MacTavish grabs me at the last minute and flings me back up to keep climbing, but not before I've had what feels like a heart attack. What if I died before the mission had even started? Ghost would make fun of my grave. I want to say thanks to MacTavish or something, but I still can't get into this thing where we're supposed to act casual on the missions. Hell, I think I'm acting too casual now, even just in my thoughts. Focus on the mission, Sanderson, focus on the mission.
Weirdly enough, I manage. I check my heartbeat sensor every few seconds and take out the guards when MacTavish says. He takes up position on the ridge, and I keep sneaking through the snow.
"You'll be a ghost in this blizzard." He says just before he leaves.
A ghost. There's a reason that he's got that nickname, he would have been much more suited for this mission than me. I don't know why I was assigned to it, but it probably would have been better if they'd sent Ghost. After all, I've almost died once already. I creep along through the blizzard and MacTavish takes out a few guards. I can't concentrate as well as before. Why did MacTavish have to start a little gossip about Ghost? I can't get it out of my head. He likes you a lot. Fucking hell, Captain, you couldn't have picked a worse time to give me something to obsess over. What did he mean by that, anyway? Ghost is pretty much my best friend, even though he's a lieutenant (and a bit of a dick). I suppose it's good if he likes me in a best-friend kind of way, too. Is that what MacTavish meant? I'm kind of tempted to ask him, but then he might get pissy at me for wasting time or for talking about irrelevant things. Well, he's not all that bad so he probably wouldn't even be annoyed. I still don't want to ask. What kind of sergeant asks the Captain for love advice?
Love advice?
Sanderson, what the fuck are you thinking?
Oh shit, a guard. MacTavish's impossible sniper shot brings him down, and I'm not even entirely sure how. Last time I checked, I left him on the ridge... meaning that was a pretty difficult shot. Whatever. Focus, Sanderson!
MacTavish says something about a truck coming so I lie down in the snow and try to stay as quiet as possible, which isn't hard at all considering I don't make any noise anyway. Maybe that's why he wanted me on this mission.
"Roach, the fuelling station is at the northeast corner of the runway." Says MacTavish.
Right. I take cover behind a MiG and check the heartbeat sensor. There's a couple of dots at the edge, but nothing too near. I hope that the blizzard will hide me well enough, and take note of the fact that MacTavish's dot is nowhere to be seen. How the hell is he still going to provide over-watch from that ridge? I take a deep breath and dart across the icy concrete until MacTavish tells me that I'm near the fuelling station. I don't know what's in the water up in Scotland that gives them super-sight, but I can't see a damn thing. I grope around in the snow until I find it, and then press the C4 on until it sticks. Damn, maybe I should have put it in a less obvious place? Ghost wouldn't have fucked up like that.
Focus, Sanderson!
"I'm picking up more radio traffic about the satellite. Standby. Got it. Sounds like the satellite's in the far hangar. Race you there. Oscar Mike. Out."
Fucking hell, a race? He knows how bad I am with speed. Everyone in the whole damn 141 does. Snail might have been a better callsign. I dart off into the blizzard and start thinking about how this place is kind of like heaven again. The buildings are all masked by the glittery snow, people wandering about in the distance... it doesn't look real. Damn Russians. It's honestly like some weird, surreal dream. It doesn't seem right that I just crept through an entire base without anyone seeing me, with MacTavish providing cover with impossible shots and impossible sight. My feet crunch on the ice, and I take another quick look around to check that nobody's seen me. It doesn't look like they have.
Once I reach the hangar, of course, MacTavish is already there.
"Took the scenic route, eh?" He laughs, opening the door.
Oh ha fucking ha. How did he do that anyway? He was twice as far away from the hangar as I was. I follow him in through the door and he takes out a guard in a pretty imaginative way. I still want to ask what he meant by telling me that Ghost likes me. Seriously? It sounds like something a little girl says to her best-friend-forever. Ohmygawd, you know Simon Riley? He likes you! MacTavish says something about going upstairs so I head off, still thinking about the stupid idea that MacTavish and I are little schoolgirls and the infamous Simon Riley has a damn crush on me.
You know what? He might have just meant that Ghost likes me as a friend. He thinks the world of me because I'm best friend. He likes me a lot because I listen to him when he talks about all the shit that's happened to him, and he likes me a lot because I trust him enough to say more than one sentence to him. There's the ACS module. I take it, and I'm still thinking about Ghost. Damn, I shouldn't get this distracted on a mission.
Focus, Sanderson!
I run out of the cluttered room, and then there's Russian voices. Shit.
"This is Major Petrov! Come out with your hands up!" One of them shouts, his thick accent echoing through the building.
Shit, he's talking to me, isn't he?
This is what happens when I'm too damn casual on missions. I was thinking about Ghost, and now we're compromised. Damn, Ghost really would have been better on this mission than me. Why am I even thinking about Ghost anyway? We're in the Tian Shan Mountains surrounded by Russian troops, MiGs, trucks and God knows what else. And I'm thinking about how to interpret something the Captain said about my best friend. Fuck this, I shouldn't be allowed to have friends is this is where it gets me.
"Roach, go to Plan B..." MacTavish mutters.
Shit, the detonator. I fumble around and pull it out whilst that damn Major Petrov starts counting down until the time he's going to execute MacTavish. I detonate the C4 and pray there's no problem or anything because if they try and take down the Captain there's no way I can take out that many Russians by myself when they're pretty much expecting me. Luckily the C4 detonates, and I use that spare millisecond to shoot as many of the soldiers as I can. I'm not sure how many I've taken out, but MacTavish is still alive, so that's a plus. He tells me what to do and for once I don't drift off into a daydream. No thinking about how MacTavish is making impossible shots, no thinking about how Russia is apparently Heaven and Makarov is Satan, no thinking about how Ghost might just like you a lot and...
No.
Damn it.
Focus, Sanderson!
"Head for that MiG! I'll cover you!" MacTavish shouts, taking down one of the soldiers. I run to the plane, but it explodes before I can reach it. The soldiers start to swarm around again. Oh God, they're like cockroaches.
"To the East, Roach! Go!" He shouts again, taking down some of the soldiers.
I Spray bullets wildly and make a run for it. Snowmobiles appear. I shoot the soldiers off one and it crashes. The other one circles back. No time to aim. I sprint to the gap in the fence and dive down an icy hill, immediately regretting my decision. It makes me wish that I was back on the edge of the cliff watching MacTavish smoke a cigar – before he had to start distracting me with thoughts about Ghost. Another pair of snowmobiles flies off the hill and circles around. MacTavish appears – somehow – and takes the soldiers on one out with his ice pick. I shoot the soldiers off the other. More are coming towards us. Shit. We're going to die. I don't know why I'm so scared – I've never really given a shit about dying before. I haven't exactly contributed anything to this world, so who gives a flying fuck, anyway?
Oh wait, I still want to find out what MacTavish meant with all that shit about Ghost. Of course. That's totally a legitimate reason to want to live. I miss the days when I had no feelings towards anything at all, instead of all this bullshit. I'm like a goddamn woman. Miss Roach, that's what they'll start calling me. Getting my feelings all up in this mission. Fuck.
"Roach, take the snowmobile!" MacTavish shouts. "Let's get the hell out of here!"
You have got to be kidding. I've never driven one of these in my life! I clamber on, and it doesn't look too hard. I manage to get it going, at least. And as soon as it starts, I zoom off. I think that MacTavish is behind me. He's shouting to Kilo Six-One, anyway. There are more soldiers on snowmobiles all around. I shoot at them, but it's kind of hard to steer – holy shit, I hit one? I still can't stop thinking about that damn Ghost. I'll have to have a go at him when... if we get back. It's his fault I've been so damn distracted. Him and MacTavish. I'll have a go at them both,
Okay, maybe not the Captain.
We skid over a hill and onto a frozen lake, and a helicopter decides to join the party. I swear to God, this mission would have been just fine is MacTavish hadn't told me that Ghost thinks the fucking world of me and got me all distracted. Somehow, if that hadn't happened, then we would have been fine. No backup LZ needed, we'd have been fine. We drive up another hill, and then down an almost-vertical one. This is ridiculous. It's like a ramp. Oh God, there's a jump at the end of it and everything. Like a video game. Ghost always beat me a video games, now that I think about it.
Focus, Sanderson!
Okay, focus on the jump. My snowmobile flies into the air and skids down on the other side. At least it was more successful than climbing up to the base. The helicopter touches down and I dismount and run in. Finally. MacTavish sits down opposite and grins.
"Have fun out there, Roach?" He asks as the helicopter takes off.
I shake my head. Nothing else really needs to be said to that.
"C'mon, you're pretty good with that snowmobile." He jokes. "Might have to get you on another mountain-mission."
I shake my head again. Nothing good can come from this type of mission. I'm still in shock from the last jump. I wait a couple of minutes to clear my head, and look at the other soldiers in the helicopter. They're talking amongst themselves or on the radios, so they're not really listening. I lean closer to MacTavish, and try to find the right words.
"What did you...?" I mumble, trying to think about what should come next. "When you said that Ghost thinks the world of me. Likes me a lot."
Oh God, I sound like Little Miss Roach again. Honestly, it might sound stupid but I care about what Ghost thinks. He's a complete prick half the time and he's weird all of the time, but he actually listens to what I have to say. Even though it takes me a while to say stuff, he listens to every damn word.
I guess that's just stupid.
MacTavish just laughs. "Ghost's a strange one." He fumbles around in his pocket for a cigar. "You'd have to talk to him about it, mate."
I guess that's what I'll have to do. When we land, Shepherd's there to greet us. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about him. There's something a little off. He's still a good guy though, I guess. The kind you can trust not to shoot you when you're down. He wants to brief MacTavish on some shit that's going down later or something – some mission involving a Ranger.
"Ghost's probably at the firing range." MacTavish mutters before he leaves with Shepherd.
Great. Ghost's always at the firing range. I don't see the point of it, really. I'm not going to be shooting at wooden people in real life, so what's the point in practising on them? Although you kind of have to sometimes. No choice. There aren't that many people at the firing range today. A couple of soldiers near the entrance, and Ghost in his usual spot. Furthest from the door. He doesn't notice me when I walk up behind him.
"Bloody hell." He grunts, missing the target by an inch.
I tap him on the shoulder.
"Bloody hell!" He yell again, turning around in surprise. "Roach!"
He sets his gun down and glances at the other guys. They're not even paying attention. I'm not entirely sure how happy he is to see me based on his tone when he shouted. I'm going to guess that he's pleased, since it's usually a good thing when your mate doesn't die on a mountain in Kazakhstan.
"Well you didn't die, then." He comments, pulling off his sunglasses. "I won't have to bollock MacTavish."
I nod. How exactly do you bring up this sort of topic with your best mate? Oi, mate. I heard some rumour going around that implies you might like me. What's up with that? I don't really think I have the necessary social skills to be that confident. Even around Ghost.
"How was it, then?" He asks, picking up his gun again and aiming it down the range.
"Alright." I grunt. "Almost died once or twice."
He jerks his gun and the bullet doesn't hit anywhere near the target. Well done, Ghost.
"How'd you manage that, then?"
"Uh," I begin. At least I can take my time. He aims the rifle down the range again and hits the target dead in the middle of its wooden forehead. "Distracted." That seems like a good way to get into it.
"By what?"
Yeah, definitely a good way. I grab his arm and slowly lower his gun until it's pointing down at the ground. "You. Captain told me something." I mumble.
He looks genuinely concerned now. Shit. Maybe I did something wrong? I've never actually done this kind of thing before, and I assumed the whole romantic-comedy type of situation was out of the window when I joined the 141. You don't expect gossip and crush-rumours in a Special Forces division, really.
"What did he say, then?" Ghost asks. I swear I can see him frown underneath the balaclava. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I could actually see his face. Then again, I cover my face up most of the time as well. Invisible and practically mute. No wonder they don't notice I'm there. Sometimes I'm more of a ghost than Ghost. Not on missions though. Not when it counts.
When I actually want to focus on Ghost, I can't. That's fucking stupid.
Focus, Sanderson!
Maybe we need to get a 141 counsellor or something. Yeah, I'm having a bit of a problem – I couldn't focus on a mission because I was thinking obsessively about my best friend, and now I can't focus on my best friend because I'm thinking about my mission. Diagnosis: fucking stupid. I kind of wish I was back in the mountains again. Not that crazy fucking snowmobile chase, but before MacTavish said all that still about Ghost. He didn't say anything.
"What did he say, Roach?" Ghost nudges my shoulder with his gun. That's safe.
He said that you think the world of me and that you like me a lot. There, I said it. In my head. There must be some kind of roadblock from my brain to my mouth, something like that. If someone ever tried to interrogate me, I'd tell them everything telepathically. Playing it safe, I suppose. That was the reason I said before, right? Soldiers aren't paid to talk, anyway. If I come face-to-face with Makarov, I'm not going to start on the small talk; I'm going to shoot him. I don't need to know how to express words to get my job done.
"Roach!" Ghost shouts, jabbing me again with the gun. He's getting impatient.
"I, Uh..." I begin. Shit, what exactly do I say? MacTavish implied you like me a lot? Something to that effect. "He said that you, well," just as eloquent as always, Sanderson. "You think the world of me."
Ghost aims his gun down the range again and slots in a new magazine. He shoots the target right in the middle of the forehead. This doesn't bode well for me. I tap him on the shoulder.
"What?" He grunts.
Maybe not. I take a step back and watch him fire a few more rounds, peppering the target with holes. He finishes the magazine and replaces it. Shoots again. Repeats. That target's beginning to look like Swiss cheese by this stage, and with one more shot he manages to break the damn think in half. The wooden-terrorist's legs fall and hit the ground, and Ghost swears under his breath. What is he doing? He wanted to know what MacTavish said, so I told him. I don't understand why he's being so odd about it.
"Ghost." I mumble, taking a couple of steps closer. I hope that he doesn't have some weird fit of rage and turn on me.
"Bloody Hell, Roach."
"What did you mean?" I honestly think that I'm exhausting all of my ability to hold a conversation.
"Means I like you, idiot."
"Yeah, 'cause you're my mate."
Ghost puts his gun down in order to slap his hand to his face. "I like you more than that you bloody twat." He glances over at the guys at the other end of the range. "Get it now?"
Oh. Oh. I glance at the other guys, too. I don't think that I can complete my circle of romantic-comedy-slash-soldier lifestyle with a kiss, though. We'd definitely get in trouble for that. Wait, wasn't I the one insisting through that whole mission that we were just mates?
Maybe if I'd just come to this fucking conclusion earlier then it would have saved me a whole lot of trouble and I'd have been able to actually complete the mission with no screw-ups and no having to rely on the Captain's superhuman shots. Maybe there wouldn't have been a damn snowmobile chase. I can't stomach shit like that. I would've been focussing enough to plant the C4 in a less obvious place. I could have wedged it behind the fuelling station, or even just closer to the ground. Maybe it was the C4 that gave us away? Shit, I almost got MacTavish executed. I hope to God that he didn't see how awfully I placed that C4...
Ghost is looking at me. I think he's frowning.
He doesn't expect a response, does he?
Focus, Sanderson! Damn, my conscience really has its work cut out.
"What?"
He shakes his head. I think he's smiling. "You're a complete freak, Roach."
"Thanks."
The two guys at the other end of the range start to walk off. Ghost watches them leave – what the hell is he planning? I can see that kind of evil plotting look in his eyes, which is kind of worrying. When they've left, he pulls up his balaclava a little, just enough so that I can see his smirk. He leans in, reaching out to pull mine up as well – it's still the arctic camouflage one too. I stick out like a sore thumb in this base. His fingers are just lifting it away from my neck when there's a yell from the entrance.
"Ghost! Roach!"
Shit. It's MacTavish. Ghost pulls his hands away and readjusts his balaclava back to normal.
"Yeah?" He shouts back.
"We need you guys at the meeting. Come on."
Ghost looks at me and I can see him grin again. He puts his sunglasses back on and gives me a friendly punch on the arm.
"We can try that again later, mate." He laughs.
Okay, this is definitely not what I signed up for.