Nightmare

Soap has a nightmare about his last fight with Shephard, but in his nightmare, Makarov was there too. He wakes up and tries to calm himself down.

Hello again! I was kinda bored so I decided to write a nightmare about Endgame, with a slight plot twist. Yeah, it might be kinda boring if you already know how it goes. But oh well. :D

A/N: Italics at the start of the story are memories. Anything in Italic after Soap wakes up are his thoughts.

Soap saw Shephard leaning against an old car, his outline blurry from the sandstorm-like weather. He moved closer, Shephard didn't seem to notice him. He raised the knife, and aimed to stab his neck, but Shepard countered, grabbed the knife, and slammed Soap's head into the roof of the car.

He fell backwards and onto the ground. Soap saw Shephard raise a knife of his own and impaled him right in his chest. He could feel himself about to pass out- and he did.

"Five years ago, I lost 30,000 men in the blink of an eye. And the world just fuckin' watched."

He opened his eyes to see Shephard loading his handgun.

"Tomorrow, there will be no shortage of volunteers, no shortage of patriots."

He finished loading the gun and aimed it at Soap's head.

"I know you understand."

Just as the trigger was pulled, Price came out of nowhere and tackled Shephard and kicked the gun out of his hand. Soap saw his chance, slowing crawling towards the abandoned gun. Careful not to disturb his wound, he reached for the gun and found Shephard kicking it out of his reach as he threw Price to the ground.

Soap looked up and saw Shepherd's boot come smashing down on his face, turning the world dark. He awakened to Price and Shephard having a one-on-one fight. Soap fell unconscious again, with his chest growing ever more painful. He awakened several times during the fight, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Soap coughed a bit, his chest aching. He was pretty sure this was the most physical pain he'd ever been in. He awakened again, and turned his attention to the knife stuck in his chest. He just had a crazy idea. It might kill him, but he had to save Price. He lifted a shaking hand to grasp the knife.

As he pulled the knife out, he got his other arm to grab the knife as well. The pain in his chest was unbearable. He grunted in pain, but at last, he was able to get the knife out. He spun it around, blade end in his hand- and aimed at Shephard.

As soon as Soap raised his arm to throw the knife, he felt someone grab his arm. Looking up to see who is was, he saw Makarov.

He lifted a gun to his face, and pulled the trigger.

Soap gasped and opened his eyes to darkness. No- not complete darkness. Moonlight was shining through his window. He lifted his legs out of bed and onto the floor. Calm down. He thought. It's just a dream. Shephard is dead, and Makarov was never there. And you're not dead. He told himself.

Soap knew he wouldn't be able to sleep after that nightmare. He remembered how Ghost was an expert at handling nightmares.

Oh Ghost. I wish you were here. You too, Roach.

Soap couldn't forget Roach. His soft brown hair, forest green eyes and stout form.

He sighed and lay back down on his bed, hoping for a dreamless rest of the night.

Well there it is! Like I said, it's kinda boring, not much, blah blah. Anyway, I'd love to hear any feedback, the good and the bad. It helps! :D any story suggestions are more than welcome! 3

-Stay Feirce!