July 3, 2011
Captain MacTavish sighed in pleasure as he eased into the recliner in the rec room. It had been a long day, and he always enjoyed ending it by watching a little rugby on television with a scotch in his hand.
This evening, the Scot was particularly glad the day was almost over. Between training, chasing Meat all over the base trying to confiscate his "medicine," and enduring Roach's constant excitement about some movie premiere during dinner (he didn't know what movie; he had tried to ignore the American the best he could. Something about wizards?), MacTavish was ready to call it a day.
He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Glasgow was playing the Cardiff Blues tonight, and a win that evening would improve their current standing.
As the match was beginning, Ghost wandered into the rec room. "Who's playing tonight?" he asked as he jumped into the couch.
"Glasgow and Cardiff," MacTavish responded, followed by a swig of his scotch. "Should be an interesting game." Ghost agreed, and they both settled in to watch the game.
Well, as it turns out, it wasn't very interesting. Glasgow hadn't scored once in the first half, and Cardiff was leading by 28. During a commercial break, Roach sauntered into the room carrying a stick. MacTavish presumed Roach was talking to it, seeing as nobody else wanted to listen.
"This match is horrible," Ghost said as the American sat next to him. "Don't waste your time, mate." Although the game was terrible, the Brit mostly just wanted Roach to leave. Convinced, the bug got up to leave the room.
"Hell, our team at Sandhurst could've beaten them tonight," MacTavish commented to Ghost as the match resumed.
"Definitely. Our backs were slow, but they'd be fast enough to beat these twits," Ghost agreed.
Roach stopped as he was about to leave and turned around. "You guys went to the same university?" he asked, as he subconsciously waved his stick around.
"RMA Sandhurst," MacTavish muttered, trying to use his mind to make Glasgow faster.
"Where's that?" Roach asked, not familiar with the name.
"Surrey," Ghost responded quickly, in hopes to shut the American up.
Much to both the Europeans disappointment, Roach didn't shut up. In fact, he screamed like a little girl. Wait- scratch that. Roach screamed like a little girl who had just gotten a life-size "My Little Pony" for her eighth birthday.
"Bloody hell, mate!" Ghost yelled when Roach was done. "What the hell was that for?"
"HARRY POTTER LIVES IN SURREY!" The American yelled as he did some kind of dance. "Did you ever visit his house? Did you see the cupboard he slept in?" Roach gasped. "DID YOU STEP ON THE DOORSTEP WHERE HE WAS SO LEGENDARILY PLACED TO AWAIT THE REST OF HIS TORMENTED LIFE?"
MacTavish and Ghost stared at him in silence, their mouths agape.
Ghost was the first one to break it. He stood up and walked over to Roach, where he rested his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.
"Roach, mate... you know that Harry Potter isn't real, don't you?"
After hearing these words, Roach threw Ghost's hands off his shoulders and stood up onto the couch, where he jumped up and down in anger.
"HARRY POTTER IS TOO REAL! YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS THAT YOU DIDN'T GET YOUR ACCEPTANCE LETTER TO HOGWARTS, SO YOU COULDN'T CHILL WITH HARRY IN THE GRYFFINDOR COMMON ROOM AND-"
"Who's Harry Potter?" MacTavish interrupted.
Now it was Ghost and Roach's turn to be in shock. Their captain was supposedly the Chosen One of the military world; how had he not heard of the Chosen One of the wizarding world?
"Seriously, you don't know who Harry Potter is?" Ghost asked his best friend and commanding officer.
MacTavish shook his head. "Is he that guy down at Vase World that never shaves?" he guessed.
Roach facepalmed. His captain was going to have the full Harry Potter childhood... somehow.
July 4, 2011
"Oi, Ghost, toss me the butter, will you?" MacTavish asked his best friend, who was sitting next to him. The English man handed over the tub of butter as he yawned loudly.
"Didn't you get any sleep last night, mate?" The Scot inquired as he buttered his bagel. Usually Ghost was the most awake of all the men on base in the mornings. This was because he always got up early before all the other men to run the track, without his balaclava. It constricted his breathing, and you only make the mistake of running three miles in a mask once. MacTavish knew that Ghost didn't want to take his balaclava off in front of the others, so he excused him from the cardio workout later in the day in exchange for a workout alone in the morning.
"Nope," Ghost rolled up his mask just enough to reveal his mouth, and he took a bite of toast. He let the balaclava roll back down to its usual position. "The bug was up until two-thirty last night waving around that stick of his and muttering some nonsense spells."
"Is he still excited over that... Jerry Motter movie premiere of his?" MacTavish groaned.
"Harry Potter," Ghost corrected. "And aye. The boy's convinced that someday he's going to be riding hippogriffs and fighting dementors."
MacTavish stared at him like he had just spoken Swedish.
"'Sup guys!" a familiar voice said behind MacTavish. "Er, I mean, sirs." The captain and his lieutenant groaned internally.
"Morning, Roach," the Scot said, trying to sound friendly. He took a bite of his bagel to stop himself from saying anything more.
Roach responded by dropping a large stack of books next to MacTavish's hand. The captain jumped and accidentally dropped his bagel onto the floor. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?"
"You're going to read these," Roach responded.
MacTavish looked at the large pile of books. "If that's intel, Price is helping me," he muttered.
"It's not intel," the American said. "They're the Harry Potter books!"
"That wizard series you're always going on about? Roach, that's a lot of reading, and-"
"Only 4,176 pages. Debatably. There's a bit of an argument over whether or not the copyright notice and title page count. I say no, since nobody ever reads those anyways."
MacTavish closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. "Roach, I know you love the series, and you're excited about the premiere. But I really don't have the time to read for pleasure."
This didn't deter Roach. "Come on, captain. You have two weeks to ready seven little books."
The Scot turned his head and looked over at the stack of books. He raised an eyebrow. "Those are little?"
"They go fast." MacTavish groaned.
"Pleeaase, captain? Pretty, pretty, pretty please?"
"I don't know, Roach..."
"I'll stop stealing Ghost's mask...!"
Ghost, who had taken the top book off of the pile and admired the cover art, quickly looked up. In a sudden change of sides, Ghost threw the book he was holding in front of MacTavish. "I think a little light reading will be good for you, mate!" he exclaimed.
The captain looked up and gave his friend an angry look.
The balaclava-clad man grinned. "You owe me one, anyways."
MacTavish sighed. He did owe Ghost...
FLASHBACK! (A week before...)
MacTavish rested his head on his desk. He hated Mondays. Pretty much everyone on base did. Training resumed, drinking was prohibited, and worst of all, they couldn't go off base to get some decent food.
Sighing to himself, the captain lifted up his head and opened his laptop. He opened the only new email, an update from his nephew (the only family he had left) who was studying medicine in Edinburgh. Typing slowly, he wrote back. Everything was fine, the food was horrible... the works. After he finished, he closed the laptop and pulled a bottle of scotch out of the bottom drawer of his desk. What Collins didn't know wouldn't hurt him...
MacTavish's rule breaking was interrupted by a knocking at his office door. Cautiously, he called out, "who is it?"
"Ghost," a Cockney accent replied.
Leaving the scotch out on his desk, the Scot stood up and walked across the room. He opened the door to reveal Ghost standing there holding a piece of paper out to him.
"Ah, are those the latest training course times?"
"Aye. Roach yelled "Avada Kedavra" at each target he shot, but other than that everyone did fine."
"Avada Kedavra? What the hell does that mean?"
"It's something from that book series he's reading. It's a spell that supposedly kills people."
MacTavish chuckled under his breath. Though the bug could get under his skin, the American never ceased to amuse.
"Would you like a glass of scotch?" MacTavish offered, pointing behind him to his desk. "You deserve it."
Ghost leaned against the doorframe. "What's the age?" he asked.
"Twelve years."
Ghost winced. "As much as I'd like to take you up on that offer, I've got to drive to the grocery store and stock the kitchen. Cook's been complaining that the food is horrible since he has nothing to work with. Like that's why."
MacTavish smirked and nodded as he took the course times sheet. "Another time then."
Ghost grinned (at least, MacTavish thought he grinned) under his mask. "Definitely. See you at dinner, mate."
The captain nodded and closed the door so it was ajar after Ghost left. He sat back down and poured himself another glass of scotch.
"General Collins, so nice of you to visit us," a British accent said unnaturally loudly outside MacTavish's office.
The Scot froze. The new general was here?
"Yes, well, I mostly just need to talk to MacTavish about last week's hostage rescue." Collins said.
MacTavish closed the bottle of scotch and quickly returned it to its place in the desk drawer. His eyes swept over his office, looking for things that probably shouldn't be on base. His eyes rested on the glass of scotch in front of him.
"Yes, that mission was quite a success. Although the intel was slightly off," Ghost continued to stall.
Thinking fast, MacTavish downed the scotch as quickly as he could.
"I don't control what's on the intel, lieutenant," Collins replied sharply.
When MacTavish finished, his throat felt like it was on fire. The captain ignored it and put the empty glass in the drawer with the scotch. He coughed loudly to let Ghost know the coast was clear.
"Of course. My apologies, sir," Ghost said. "Captain MacTavish surely agrees with you."
"He better," Collins muttered. "Dismissed, lieutenant."
MacTavish pretended to be busy looking at the training course times when Collins walked in without knocking. He looked up and tried to act surprised that the General was here. He stood up and saluted.
"At ease, captain. I want to talk to you about last week's mission..."
Later at dinner, MacTavish took his normal place across the table from Ghost. The English man smiled. "So, how did your talk with Collins go?"
"Better than yours," the captain replied, smiling back. "Thanks for that, by the way."
"Yeah, yeah, you owe me."
(End of flashback)
MacTavish looked at the book in front of him. Though Roach could be obnoxious and hyper, he was true to his word. "You two are unbelievable," he muttered as he picked up the book and strode out of the cafeteria. He opened the book and skipped the first few pages. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much...
Later that day...
"Hey Chemo, have you seen MacTavish anywhere? He was supposed to meet me at the firing range ten minutes ago," Ghost asked the Canadian as they passed in the hallway.
"Can't say I have. I thought he was with you."
Ghost sighed as he turned a corner, heading towards MacTavish's office. The door was open, and the Brit walked in. "MacTavish, I thought we were-"
"Shhh!" the Scot hushed him. "I'm reading!"
Ghost rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. "Mate, you've been reading that book for six hours. You skipped lunch. You need a break."
"Not now. I'm at the part where they're trying to sneak past the three-headed dog."
Ghost raised his eyebrows. He walked over to the desk and checked the page number. 276. "Bloody hell mate, you're almost done!"
"I know!" MacTavish responded, sounding genuinely excited. "Then I can read the next one!"
Ghost just sighed and left the room without another word.
Finally, at dinner, MacTavish emerged from his office of solitude. Ghost had warned the rest of the task force not to disturb him (leaving the part about reading Harry Potter out), so of course the men were curious and he got into line and filled his tray with food.
"What do you think he was doing?" Toad whispered to his sniping partner Archer as MacTavish sat down at a table across the cafeteria.
"It's none of our business," Archer responded as he examined a shapeless, brown lump on his plate.
Toad leaned over and whispered one of his theories into Archer's ear. Archer got a disturbed expression on his face, and he picked up the unidentified object and shoved into Toad's face. Soon, the whole table joined in. Then the next. And then another, until the entire cafeteria was chucking food across the room.
Price walked over to MacTavish's table and sat down next to him. "Uhhh... Soap?"
"Yes?" the Scot replied, looking around the cafeteria.
"Um... aren't you going to stop this?"
"No. I need to find Roach. Have you seen him?"
Confused, Price's eyebrows squinched together. He wasn't trying to avoid the American? "He's in his room, reading Harry Potter fan fiction on some website."
"Thanks," MacTavish said, standing up. "You can have my... whatever this is." He near sprinted out of the cafeteria to talk to the bug.
Roach scrolled down the list of Harry Potter fan fiction. 516,192 results. Where to begin? he thought. I know! HarryxHermione! Harmony...
Just then, MacTavish ran into his room. "Roach," he panted. "I need the second book! NOW!"
Roach's face lit up. "Sure, captain! Just a sec!" He proceeded to enter a code into a computerized lock on the wall. MacTavish looked on curiously.
As Roach hit the ENTER button, the bookcase next to his bunk slid into the floor revealing a large safe.
"How come I didn't know about this?" MacTavish asked. However, he was too excited for the second book to actually care that one of his soldiers had dug a hole through the floor.
Roach turned the dial around, until he heard a soft 'click' inside. He pulled open the safe, where the second book rested on top of the pile inside. Please that his captain was taking a liking to Harry Potter, he handed him the book. "Enjoy!" MacTavish took the book and left as quickly as he had come.
Roach grinned and sat back down in front of his laptop. Ooh! RonxHermonie! Romonie!
July 5, 2011
MacTavish sauntered into the cafeteria, dragging his feet exhaustedly. Remnants from yesterday's food fight still littered the room and stained the walls. He didn't care. John MacTavish had a one track mind, and right now he only cared about reading Harry Potter. He held the second book in his hand. He hadn't parted with it since Roach had given it to him.
He took his place between Price and the bug. He rested his head on the table and closed his eyes, using the book as a pillow.
Ghost looked at the lines underneath MacTavish's eyes. "Bloody hell, mate! What did you do, stay up all night?"
The captain simply grunted in response.
Price smiled. He turned around and walked up to the kitchen window, where Cook was cooking... whatever he was cooking.
"Cook! I need you to make something to wake MacTavish up. He must've had nightmares last night or something." Cook nodded in understanding and began to work. Price walked around to other tables to make small talk with all the soldiers.
"Roach," MacTavish said weakly, opening his eyes. "I need... I need..."
"What do you need? Anything!" Roach said, panicking.
MacTavish looked at him. "I need... the Prisoner of Azkaban."
Ghost rolled his eyes.
Roach's brown eyes grew dark with worry. "Right away!" He ran off to his vault.
"I can't believe you stayed up all night reading that book," Ghost said flatly. "I mean, they're good books, but-"
"They're GREAT books, Simon!" MacTavish scolded, his anger waking him up slightly. "That's forty push-ups for you!"
Ghost stared at his commanding officer. "... You can't be serious," he said.
"I am. Forty push-ups. Do it. Now."
The balaclava-clad man sighed in exasperation and got into the push-up position. MacTavish watched him out of the corner of his eye.
Cook came up beside MacTavish and placed a cup filled with red goo on the table. The captain reached for it and dragged it towards him. Struggling to lift his head up, he lifted the glass to his mouth. The moment the contents touched his tongue, he felt better. It tasted like crap, but the Scot was awake again. He could read! Slamming the glass down onto the table, MacTavish stood up. He let out a loud "HOOOOAAAHH!" as he ran out the door.
Price walked over to his original table, where Ghost was doing push-ups. "I think that's the first time Cook has succeeded in making what he tried to make. Every other time he- why are you doing push-ups, Ghost?"
"I was being too logical, sir."
Nobody heard from or saw MacTavish for the rest of the day. Not even Ghost or Price. Rumors began to go around.
"I bet he has some rare disease that prevents him from coming out into the sunlight!" Meat said as they all took turns at the firing range.
"Maybe he's a vampire!" suggested Royce.
"Yeah, they burn in the sun," pitched Toad.
"You guys are so stupid," Neon said. "Everybody knows that vampires sparkle." Everybody looked at him.
"You read Twilight?" Royce asked. Needless to say, Neon would never hear the end of it.
July 6, 2011
MacTavish didn't come out for breakfast. Nobody was surprised. Ghost volunteered to go talk to him. "Right after I write my will," he muttered to himself.
When he got to the captain's office, Ghost had to admit he was nervous. He had never seen the captain so irritable before. Usually he was pretty easygoing, but ever since Roach got him hooked on Harry Potter...
Taking a deep breath, Ghost opened the door. Glancing around the room, he quickly found his friend curled up in the fetal position in the corner. He was shaking violently.
"Mate?" Ghost said worriedly. MacTavish didn't respond in any way. The English man tried snapping his fingers in front of his captain's face, but nothing worked.
"Sorry, sir," Ghost muttered as he brought his hand back. He slapped MacTavish across the face, hard. The Scot stopped shaking and looked at him. "What the hell is wrong with you!" Ghost yelled into his face.
"I n-need..." MacTavish gulped, "the fourth book. But I-I can't go out there."
"Why the hell not?"
MacTavish got a blank look in his eyes. "The dementors." Ghost groaned. He was worse than he thought. "Tell you what, mate. I'll get you the book. If you get out of this office and do something else."
"Like what?"
Ghost shrugged. "I don't know... take a shower. You smell like crap."
MacTavish nodded. "Okay. But get me the book first."
Ghost sighed and walked out of the room. "Whatever keeps you sane, mate," he said when MacTavish was out of earshot.
Captain John Price had always been a very sweaty person. A simple game of tetherball would make him sweaty enough that he had to put on more deodorant and used more Axe. So after a long game of rugby with the rest of the team, he needed a shower.
As he walked over to the locker rooms across base, Price wondered what was going on with Soap. The man didn't have nightmares; or if he did, he didn't show it. What was keeping him awake at night? Something was going on, and Price was worried for his young protégé.
Price knew he would be the only one in the showers. Everyone else was going to lunch. So as he entered the shower building, he took off his shirt and undid his belt. His green fatigues hung loosely on his hips.
When Price opened the door to the shower room, what he saw freaked him out completely.
Soap was in there, his head and arm poking out one of the showers. He had a large book in his hand, and he didn't even address Price as the older captain approached him.
"Soap, what the hell are you doing?"
"Reading," MacTavish responded without looking up.
"In the shower?" The Scot nodded slowly. As he turned a page, he suddenly held the book out to Price. "Can you hold this for a minute? It's Roach's, and I don't want to get it wet."
"Umm... sure," Price replied. MacTavish disappeared behind the shower curtain.
Price looked at the book. The cover said Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. "Is this what's been keeping you isolated all week, Soap?"
"I haven't been isolated," MacTavish replied. "I've had people around me every minute of the day."
"Who?" Price asked.
"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, of course."
And that was when Price knew that his younger captain was in trouble.
July 7, 2011
MacTavish didn't come out at all on Thursday. Again, nobody was surprised.
"I still think he's a vampire," Neon said.
July 8, 2011
Ghost knocked hard on Captain MacTavish's door. He knew how this was going to end, but he'd promised everybody that he'd try anyways.
"Captain! Everybody's going out for drinks, do you want to come?" Ghost shouted.
"No!" MacTavish shouted back.
Ghost sighed. "Come on, mate. Seriously. Do the right thing and get drunk."
"Firewhiskey can be dangerous, Ghost."
"Firewhat?"
July 9, 2011
Price couldn't take it any longer.
All week, he'd run drills; with no help. He'd cleaned up the cafeteria; with no help. He'd been responsible for make sure Roach didn't do anything stupid; with no help. Except a squirrel that had somehow gotten onto base, which kept the American entertained for a good two hours. But that had ended when the squirrel wandered over to the firing range.
Price couldn't do it all on his own. Sure, maybe one or two days would be fine. But a week? He was losing it.
Price and Ghost talked about it in the rec room that night.
"He just isn't himself anymore," Ghost said. "He hasn't been training, he hasn't been drinking, and he certainly hasn't been acting like a captain."
Price nodded. "I'm worried about him. The other day I walked into his office and found him trying to levitate some frag grenades."
Ghost sighed. "I'm gonna kill that bug."
Price looked confused. "Roach? What does he have to do with it?"
"He was the one that got John hooked on the books in the first place. Roach said that if MacTavish read the books, he'd stop stealing my balaclava. MacTavish owed me one, so..." Ghost groaned. "I feel so guilty about it."
Price looked at him. "You should."
July 10, 2011
Roach was walking down the hall to his barracks when two pairs of hands reached out of a closet and pulled him in.
"Wha- oh, hey guys," Roach said when he saw it was Ghost and Price. "What's up?"
"Your number, that's what," Ghost said. "Unless you tell us what we want to know."
"Um, okay. Hit me."
Ghost punched him in the shoulder.
"Ouch, Ghost, that's not what I meant!"
"When is Soap going to finish the books?" Price asked, getting straight to the point.
"I gave him the sixth book this morning... so at the rate he's going..." Roach thought for a minute. "Thursday afternoon."
Price swore. "So we still have five more days of this?"
"Yep," Roach replied. "And then the final movie premieres! WOOO!"
Ghost opened the closet door and shoved Roach out. "Thanks, bug, you've been very helpful."
July 11, 2011
Training resumed. To relieve some of the stress on Price, Ghost ran some of the drills as well.
By this point, Neon had almost everyone convinced that MacTavish was a vampire.
July 12, 2011
At dinner, Roach sat in his usual spot. There was an empty seat between him and Price. "I gave the captain the final book today," he informed them. "I can't believe he read all the books that fast."
Ghost and Price exchanged a look. To them, it had taken an eternity.
July 13, 2011
Price walked into the rec room. He had been hoping for it to be empty, but of course that wasn't the case.
Roach was passing around magazines, and everyone was picking out their costume for the movie premiere at midnight on Friday. The American looked up as Price entered the room. "Hey Price, are you gonna be Dumbledore? You've got the beard and old part down."
Price just sighed and lit another cigar.
July 14, 2011
Ghost woke up miserable. Again. His best friend had ditched him for some fictional wizard. At least, the mask-wearing man was miserable, until he remembered what day it was. He quickly ran to Price's room.
"PRICE! IT'S THURSDAY! MACTAVISH IS GONNA BE BACK TO NORMAL ONCE HE FINISHES THAT BLOODY BOOK!"
The British captain sat up. "THANK THE HEAVENS!" he yelled. "We can finally go back to letting him do most of the work!"
Both the men grinned.
It was at lunch that the man reappeared.
His face was unshaven, a short beard growing on his face. The mohawk on his head was starting to grow out. Lines on his forehead and eyes showed that he hadn't slept for days.
As he wandered over to his usual seat, he could feel the dozens of eyes on him. He didn't care. Harry Potter dealed with it; so could he.
Roach was bouncing up and down in his seat. MacTavish sat down next to him.
"THE DEATHLY HALLOWS PART TWO PREMIERE IS TONIGHT, CAPTAIN!" Roach shouted. The Scot smiled at him. "Are you dressing up, lad?" he asked.
The American nodded. "As Dobby! Are you going to wear a costume?" MacTavish smiled again. "I might as well. I don't want to look like a muggle, do I?" At this they both laughed.
Price and Ghost exchanged a look. MacTavish apparently wasn't too Harry Potter obsessed anymore. They smiled. They had the old Captain MacTavish back.
July 15, 2011
The movie was amazing. The task force had been loud when they came in, so everybody else left; they had the entire theater to themselves. They then proceeded to throw popcorn at the screen whenever Voldemort appeared.
"Don't hate, guys," Neon said. "Voldemort is like the coolest villain every. Even cooler than vampires. No offense, MacTavish." The captain turned around and looked at Neon, his lightning-shaped scar visible on his forehead. "What do you mean, 'no offense?' Why would I take offense to that?"
Neon looked down at the popcorn-littered floor. "Well, you're a vampire right?"
MacTavish just stared at him for a moment before bursting out into laughter. The rest of the task force joined him. Why had they believed Neon, anyways?
Roach smiled to himself. This was much better than having a normal life.