"Of Doubts and Dreams"
***CHAPTER ONE HAS BEEN REVISED WITH A NEW AND EXTENDED ENDING, AS INDICATED IN BOLD FONT! PLEASE READ!***
Update on Chapter 1 (1/17/10):
Yes, I've gone an made edits to this story. I didn't like how I set up chapter one and decided to ditch Roach's dream entirely. It was something I through-in last minute and now I realized it that didn't fit the direction I wanted to go in. There's also a few minor edits elsewhere in the beginning but the major change/additions are at the end of the chapter. The new stuff is highlighted in bold for easy reference. Overall, I feel that this new chapter flows better with chapter two... so, please let me know what you think, and thank you! =]
A/N: Hi there. This is my first piece of Call of Duty fanfiction and first piece of FF in a VERY long time. In fact, over the years I mostly deleted all of my old stuff (probably for the best) from my early years in high school (I'm now a senior in college!). Anyway, I recently played the heck out of MW2 over my Christmas Break and quickly became addicted to the gameplay, story and attached to the characters (Especially Ghost [OMGSEXAYVOICE], Soap, and Dunn, but everyone loves them, right? Haha).
Anyway, I'm a bit intimidated posting this, having already read through several of the CoD Fanfics (mainly slash, and may I say... you're all so talented! *_*) I feel like my idea isn't particularly original or deep, but I hope some of you enjoy it nonetheless. Please let me know! Thank you!
PS: This is a mini-fic, I normally only intended three chapters but I might be able to stretch that out to five! And yes, it may start out rather innocent enough, but it's gonna get slashy. ;) You've been warned!
"There's an evil man hiding in these shadows and we're gonna bring him into the light."
Commander Shepherd's words resonated deeply within Gary "Roach" Sanderson of Task Force 141, who smiled grimly with satisfaction. " 'Bout damn time."
Makarov, the sonofabitch who single-handedly brought about the Russian attack on American soil, was finally going to get his just deserts. It had been a long, taxing road tracking him down, from the slums of Rio de Janerio to a Russian Gulag, Makarov's influence was widespread, making him a most difficult and elusive man to eliminate. Take Force 141 had suffered the loss of many good men in the pursuit of the bastard, and Roach was more than ready to avenge his brethren and start the end of the war.
Yet there was one setback. According to Shepherd, the intel revealed that Makarov was either in one of two places: his safehouse in the Caucasus Mountains or an old airplane junkyard in Afghanistan. Captain Price, however, assured Shepherd that the mission would not be beyond the capabilities of Task Force 141. The team would simply be divided and both points of interest would be attacked in one fell swoop.
Roach listened intently to the debriefing as Ghost spoke up.
"50/50 chance to take out Makarov, eh? Captain Price, request permission to take the safehouse with Roach."
"Granted." Price responded immediately, "Soap and I will take the boneyard in Afghanistan."
Roach stared at his Lieutenant, though he did not return the look.
Ghost. Ghost request me?
Roach blinked, yet no one took notice of his apparent confusion. This operation would be big and there would be a lot at stake; there was simply no time to raise questions. Hell, Roach was ready for this and adrenaline momentarily pulsed through his body as he thought about the possibility of capturing the Russian bastard; payback on Makarov had been long overdue. Having the hard intel to finally shed light on the whereabouts of Makarov should have raised his spirits, but instead, complete elation avoided Roach.
No, what was really troubling him was that he couldn't help but feel that Ghost's decision to make plans without consulting Captain Mactavish was somewhat uncharacteristic of the man...
Price, Ghost, and Shepherd dispersed. It was time to ready up.
"Roach," Captain MacTavish announced the call sign in his distinctive Scottish accent, catching Gary in the hallway on his way to the armory.
"Yes, sir?" Roach answered sharply. As the field commander of Task Force 141, MacTavish always had the complete attention of the sergeant.
MacTavish nodded politely in acknowledgment. Roach knew that MacTavish had given up ages ago in his attempt to convince Roach that his formal manner of greeting him was completely unnecessary. It probably had even irked him up to a certain point until MacTavish decided to give up and just ignore it. But with Roach's background of being raised in a strict military family, following the formalities in the chain of command had been a difficult habit to rid himself of.
"You've been debriefed, correct?" He asked, holding steady eye contact with Roach. It was small gestures like that that made Roach feel that his captain genuinely cared about him.
"Yes, sir. General Shepherd's just informed Ghost, Captain Price, and myself."
"Very well," He almost sighed with relief. "How do you feel about the assignment?"
"I'm fully prepared to do what it takes to take down Makarov," Roach stated without hesitation.
"Aren't we all?" MacTavish grinned broadly. "How much you want to bet Price and I will find and kill the sonofabitch first?"
The two soldiers shared a laugh, but it ended abruptly. Roach was suddenly reminded of the mounting pressure he felt for being team leader with Ghost.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Roach asked after the laughter subsided.
MacTavish laughed heartily once more. "What, do you think I'm Shepherd or something, boy?" His eyes glistened with tears.
"I'm... I'm sorry sir," even Roach had to laugh weakly at himself, and he managed a small smile. "It's just, this whole situation is pretty damn serious, ya know?"
"Aye, it is. The world's in deep shit but we're gonna do somethin' about it." He winked then paused before asking, "Now, what is it that you wanted to say?"
"Do you think I'm prepared to be team leader along with Ghost?" Roach stated, somewhat hesitantly.
MacTavish peered back at him quizzically. "I certainly don't question Ghost's decision," he stated bluntly.
"Thank you, sir," Roach replied, forcing his voice to sound more confident than he felt. "I guess it doesn't help that I'm just not exactly sure why Ghost chose me to accompany him, especially without consulting you first. I honestly thought that he would request for your assistance over mine," Roach finished the last sentence rather meekly.
"Roach, do you think I would have brought you along with me to Kazakhstan if I thought you were incompetent?" MacTavish referred to the mission that Roach alone had accompanied him on as they infiltrated a Russian base for a downed satellite module.
"I don't need to hear that you from MacTavish, you actually let me know that I'm valuable."
"If you're still doubting yourself, why don't you ask him? Ghost's the honest sort, but don't expect him to sugar coat you with praise if you're looking for an ego boost." He clapped Roach's shoulder in a friendly fashion. "Right, I've got to find Price. We've got an operation in the boneyard to plan!"
Roach stood there for a moment, debating whether he really wanted to have that particular discussion with Ghost or not. Usually Roach basked in Captain MacTavish's approval. His Captain's confidence in Roach despite his shortcomings (Roach had lost count of the numerous times the captain had saved his narrow ass after he had miscalculated the amount of speed required to jump across a chasm and land safely on the adjacent ledge) was something that he valued highly. But from Ghost, Roach never received the same type of approval or confidence. Roach always sought it out, because if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he was a bit jealous of the bond MacTavish and Ghost shared. Sure, The 141 were all pretty tight and had each other's backs, but sometimes Roach got the impression that Ghost just didn't see him as his equal like he did with MacTavish. And for him that was disheartening.
And yet... Ghost had chosen him as co-team leaderfor the safe house op.
Had MacTavish noticed this and insisted that Ghost work on his rapport with me?
If that was the case, Roach certainly didn't want to hear some bullshit, rehearsed answer from Ghost.
A few more seconds of pondering and anxiety was already starting to bubble up in his stomach. There would only be a few precious hours available for them to gear up and discuss tactics before the mission, and Ghost certainly wouldn't care to waste the time discussing something as silly as Roach's personal doubts.
Roach continued his way to the armory, where he expected to find the likes of Scarecrow, Ozone, Toad, Archer, and Ghost discussing procedures whilst kitting up for the mission. Archer and Toad had sniper rifles resting on their laps as they carefully cleaned and serviced the weapons for maintenance. Ghost, Ozone, Scarecrow, and several others were leaning over a table, observing Ghost who indicated points of interest with a gloved finger. Archer and several others nodded in recognition as Roach entered the room.
"Archer and Toad will remain behind here, 180 meters from the safe house, to provide sniper fire." Ghost was obviously referencing a map of the location of Makarov's estate in the Caucasus Mountains. "The rest of you lot will be providing support for Roach and I," Ghost finally looked up for the first time to acknowledge Roach.
"The safe house will be well protected and they're likely anticipatin' this assault by now. I expect Makarov will attempt to flee once he's aware of our presence and I wouldn't put it past them to have the property under heavy surveillance. An ambush certainly isn't out of the question either." Ghost paused briefly, then continued, "If Makarov does flee, we'll have Javelin fire from Archer and Toad to take out any vehicles."
"Once the property is free from threats, we'll proceed to clear the safe house and search for Makarov. Roach will be in charge of breaching the rooms, Scarecrow and Ozone will provide support as necessary. Ev'ryone understand?" Ghost stared solemnly around the room to regard each of the men in the room, eyes and emotions concealed by mask and shades. Roach remained silent, hoping to conceal the concern he felt about having such direct responsibility. He would be expected to stay sharp and act swiftly in order to carry out the breaching of the rooms as effectively as possible. Despite this, he was relieved that he would atleast be taking on a role that played off his best strength, agility. But with so many possible responses from Makarov's men, he knew the plan that Ghost had dictated could easily go astray if they didn't adapt quickly. The plan was straightforward yet flexible as long as they kept their wits about them. It was sensible, it was Ghost.
"Sir? And you?" Roach managed to finally pipe up.
"I'll be maintaining contact with HQ and Captain Price for further orders if necessary and guardin' the main entrance. Anythin' else?" There were a few noncommittal murmurings throughout the room that Roach identified as "Sounds good," "Got it," and "Let's take this bitch out!"
" 'Right then. Let's do this." Ghost concluded with the much often-used catch phrase of his. "Take the next couple 'o hours to kit up and catch up on some sleep. We're oscar mike in oh-four-hundred hours." With that, Ghost exited the armory.
"I don't understand," Ozone had immediately turned towards Roach's direction. Even with only saying those three simple words, Roach already got the impression that the American was somehow annoyed with him. "Ghost doesn't even seem to like you that much, and he chose you to work with him as team leader?" Ozone scoffed.
"Dude, lay off, would you?" Scarecrow readily came to Roach's defense, "We don't need you starting this shit when we've got bigger fuckin' issues at stake here then your ego."
"Whatever," Ozone grumbled, "I'm just sayin'. This is a pretty big fuckin' operation. We don't need Roach stumbling over a twig or something and compromising the damn mission."
"Man, fuck you!" Roach took the insult hard. He had already been doubting his role in this mission from the get go, and now it was apparent that Roach wasn't the only one who noticed that he was suddenly flung into a position of heavy responsibility that he didn't normal possess.
Ozone made a move to deliver a punch square at Roach's jaw, but Archer placed both hands firmly on the soldier's shoulders, his quick action restraining Ozone from moving forward. "He may be a bit clumsy, but remember, he alone of three men survived in the slums of Rio when the team was tracking down Rojas." Archer spoke. "He's a difficult fucker to kill." He grinned at Roach, who was appreciating the support from his men.
"Yeah, well, we don't know the exact story behind that, do we? There could be a good reason for that. I don't recall Roach ever crying over the likes of Royce or Meat." His tone became venomous with accusations.
"You say one more word, and I'll mention this to MacTavish... you're out numbered here Ozone, step down." Roach was suddenly feeling more confident, though he never realized that Ozone had beef with him regarding the death of Royce and Meat in Rio de Janeiro.
"Fuck you! I'll tell you something... I bet you're ready to kiss Ghost's ass more than ever now that he finally cracked and gave you something important to do. Yeah. You know what? Before he died, Royce told me that he was a little tipsy one night and let it slip to you that he had no love lost on the Lieutenant. And it just so happens that you fuckin' follow the man like some lost puppy. You never did give a shit about Royce, did you? Because he didn't like Ghost? It's fuckin' sick, man, the way you constantly seek his attention." Now Ozone's insinuations had reached to a whole new level.
Roach had to muster every ounce of his self-restraint to refrain from throttling the absolute shit out of the man. He was so angry that he was on the verge of shaking. Sure, he might have been bothered by Royce's attitude at times, but he would never have disregarded him on the battlefield just because they weren't best friends. And now he had to keep calm, no matter how much Ozone's words had fired him up because in a few hours he would be leading Ozone in combat and expecting this man to watch his six. If this was how Ozone truly felt about him, he had all the more reason to be nervous.
"We're going to forget this conversation, you here that Ozone?" Roach maintained an even tone as best he could, "Get your head out of your ass and focus this energy on Makarov, he's the one responsible for Royce's death, hell, for the deaths of all the friends and brothers we've lost! Don't you for a second blame a single man in this force."
Ozone maintained an angry glare in Roach's direction before shaking off Archer's steady grip.
"I'm outta here," Ozone muttered, walking off with a loaded bag of weapons and ammo stock.
"Dude, I'm so sorry. He's taken Royce's death pretty hard, they were best friends before they joined the one-four-one," Scarecrow apologized. "I'm gonna go talk to him. Don't worry, he'll come to his senses," he added sincerely, though Roach was finding it hard to feel rest-assured on the matter.
"I didn't realize that he... blamed me for that," Roach looked down at his feet uncomfortably, voice quiet.
"He'll get over it," Archer replied, though Roach wished he could believe him. "He'll have to, or else Makarov won't have kill us, we'll end up killin' each other."
Roach simply stared at his boots.
"Ease up mate, you're gonna do fine!" Archer flashed him a toothy grin.
Roach nodded grimly. The confidence he had briefly felt earlier was mostly gone and wasn't likely to return. So Ozone truthfully believed Roach had a role in Royce's death. Fuck. Ozone had even seen how badly shook-up Roach had been after Rio, how we he hadn't spoken to anyone for days afterword. Hell, Roach had nearly been killed himself. He wasn't exactly angry at Ozone, but more so pissed that he had brought up his devotion to Ghost, especially considering that he was already sensitive to the topic in his own right. He should have been focusing his attention to Makarov, to completing the plan successfully. But his brain was in a mad disarray, full of his self-doubts and desperate dreams...