MGS: Alaska
Pairing: Snake/Otacon (mostly preslash)
Feedback: Welcome.
Disclaimer: This is not a cash venture. I know the characters are not mine, and I mean no copyright infringement by writing this.
Notes: Takes place immediately after the Metal Gear REX incident (Spoilers for MGS-Twin Snakes, Otacon ending).
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"What is this place?" Otacon asked, brushing aside a fresh cobweb.
"Belongs to a buddy of mine."
"Oh."
"We won't be able to stay too long, but I'll introduce you if he comes back early."
"Back from where?"
"The Iditarod. The race starts in Anchorage in five days. I hope he won't show up, though."
"Why?"
"-That would mean something had gone very wrong and he was out of the race."
"Oh. Okay. Does this place have a thermostat?"
Snake pointed to a barrel-stove in the far corner of the cabin.
"Ah," Otacon pushed his glasses up with one finger, and looked down.
"You should get out of those clothes."
"What!?- But-" Otacon blushed, then blushed again as he remembered another reason he should change his pants. A reason Snake knew perfectly well, and so far hadn't mentioned. "-Oh right..."
Snake turned back to the stove and started building a fire, hacking small strips of birch kindling off with his TAC knife, and piling them beneath the larger pieces. He touched a match to the shavings, and they caught. Snake took off his gloves to the growing warmth and shut his eyes. Suddenly the top edge of the barrel made solid contact with his forehead and Snake flinched back, landing in a three-point-crouch. He shook his head to clear it. The Benzedrine had worn off hours ago, and Sniper Wolf's Pervatin stash was down to one last capsule.
Snake thought about what Liquid and Naomi had said about FOXDIE, and about adrenaline slowing down it's effects... was he already a dead man?
He wouldn't use the last capsule, Snake decided. It hadn't been his idea to go into the mission jacked up so high he could barely hold a gun steady in the first place.
...And he couldn't stay awake forever.
Snake turned back towards the fire to close the stove door, and his jaw clenched in the firelight as he swallowed.
He could hear the clink of cups from the room behind him. Otacon had changed, though it took him a moment or two to register the frayed green object his friend was wearing as the dish-drying towel.
Snake smirked. Otacon caught the mercenary's amused gaze as if it had been a physical nudge, and unconsciously side-stepped, putting the kitchen table between them.
"I thought you'd be thirsty by now. You don't carry a canteen, and there's not much water in a ration. I mean, I'M thirsty, and I was mostly sneaking and hiding, so... here you go," Otacon held out a white coffee mug, over the table.
Snake stood, stiffly. He crossed and accepted the mug, bracing one hand on the edge of the table as he drank. Otacon was right, this-
And then it hit him.
A cold, twisting explosion of pain in his chest, cinching muscles down like leather straps, lancing outwards from his solar plexus like lit detcord. Snake cried out and dropped to his knees, still gripping the edge of the table.
"SNAKE!!" Otacon yelled, instantly at his elbow. Or rather he tried to be, but his bad ankle turned, and he ended up falling onto Snake sideways.
Half-curled on his side under the scientist's negligible weight, Snake could feel how alive Otacon was, struggling then picking himself up, apologizing, bending over him, pleading words that seemed to run together until they became a feeling, one Snake didn't seem to mind at all. His mission was over. Rex was destroyed, there was nothing more he could do for Meryl, Otacon was safe and in time he'd be whole again...
Otacon's voice.
Too high to be fashionable, too calm to be stupid, too open to be military, too wise for his own good. Otacon was in a full panic now, but it didn't matter. Snake just listened, the lines of pain on his face smoothed a little by that one ridiculous thing.
"I know CPR- I think I know CPR- I read about it come on stay with me buddy DAVE, NO!!"
Snake could feel the pain in his chest peak, and begin to fade. He counted his own heartbeats in his ears, but he kept counting one over and over again. Then he got to two. Three.
Snake opened his eyes, cautiously. There was a lingering knot of pain in his midriff, but it wasn't around his heart. It was around the FREEZING COLD WATER.
After twenty hours of field rations or nothing, his stomach hadn't known what to DO with cold water, and in any case, he'd drunk it way too fast. A ROOKIE's mistake.
"Are you okay?" Otacon asked, with a look of mingled hope and grave alarm.
"...Whas' a'matter?" Snake whispered faintly, "getting friendly all of a sudden?"
"-H-hey... that's not very nice..." Otacon said, and he meant it.
Snake took a deep breath, and coughed a few times.
"...Are you really all right?" Otacon asked.
"Yeah, I think so," Snake nodded, sitting up partway. "...I'm sorry I scared you."
Otacon hugged him, and sniffed.
"Hal?"
"Yes?"
"You really might wanna put some clothes on," Snake observed, eyeing the green towel on the floor nearby.
"Ahh--" Otacon drew back for a staring second, then reached up and pushed Snake's blue bandana down over his eyes. "-Problem solved."
"..." Snake chuckled, and touched the well-loved fabric with his fingertips.
"Dave?"
"Yeah?"
"What happened to you just now?"
"The cold water made my stomach cramp up, and I over-reacted because I thought it was FOXDIE kicking in."
"I don't want you to die, Dave."
"I know. Me either. ...I've barely started living yet," Snake admitted.
Otacon's hand squeezed his shoulder, then was gone.
Snake stayed where he was on the floor, soaking up the warmth of the wood stove, and listening to the shuffling sounds of Otacon moving about the cabin barefoot. He was no longer sure he could get up again if he wanted to.
He might never get up, if-
...But he was no longer afraid of that. Aware that FOXDIE could kill him between this breath and the next, not pleased certainly... ...but no longer afraid.
A piece of embedded shrapnel could kill him just as dead as the most sophisticated biological weapon- -and that too could be a danger for years to come. ...This was all beginning to make sense.
Snake's head hurt though, and he shut his eyes behind the darkness of the bandanna.
He wasn't surprised when he felt a hand on his arm.
"-Up to get your arm out through this-"
"-What?" Snake interrupted, stupidly.
"I said you're going to have to sit up so I can get your arm out through this vest," Otacon repeated.
"-Leave me alone."
"Not after you took such good care of me. Besides, the straps of your weapons harness alone are cutting down your circulation, let alone the elbow-pads. Come on, help me get this off, you'll feel better afterwards, I promise."
"Uh-"
"Come on-" Otacon hoisted Snake into a sitting position, "just hold that for-" Snake swayed and almost fell back. Otacon's hand between his shoulder blades stopped him. "You can do this, Dave. Stay with me."
"Whoa... I... okay." Snake concentrated, ...and fell forwards, but only as far as his bent knees.
"That'll do. Now just stay right there, and let me do the rest," Otacon told him reassuringly.
"...?"
Otacon took off, -perhaps the word was 'dismantled', -Snake's tactical gear. The buckles helped, but it still took the better part of five minutes. Before they escaped from Shadow Moses, he'd seen Snake put the whole mess on in about ten seconds.
Under his insulated suit, Snake was every bit as battered as Otacon remembered him in the corridor where they'd said goodbye to Meryl. Raw scrapes, deep bruising in patterns that Otacon could only guess at the origins of, and all over a thin, sticky film of blood that had leaked out between the clammy material of the sneaking suit and Snake's Winter-pale skin.
"Oh my god..." Otacon whispered.
"...What?" Snake asked, waking up a little.
"Um... Is there a first aid kit here?"
"Aren't there some bandages?"
"No, you... must have needed them earlier," Otacon replied, quietly.
"-Made it this far. I'll be a'right," Snake muttered, irritably.
"Dave, you need to answer my question. Does this cabin have a first aid kid, or do I have to rip up some sheets?"
"...Behind the- -the shelves over there," Snake pointed vaguely.
"The ones made out of wooden fuel can crates?"
"Yeah." Snake shook his head to clear it, taking a breath. "-Should be."
Otacon found the kit, and worked with a light, careful touch, cleaning and bandaging. Snake started to drift off again.
Breathing.
Deep, slow, probably asleep.
...That's me, isn't it, Snake thought, coming fully awake.
Was he in a bed? That didn't make any sense... Snake swallowed, and his throat was raw. He pushed up the edge of his blue bandanna and looked around. He was still on the cabin floor, but the pallet and blankets from the bed in the corner had been moved down to the floor as well, and somehow he'd ended up there. Snake rubbed the back of his neck experimentally. His fingers found the knot of his bandanna just above it, cloth still slightly damp.
"...Huh."
Everything hurt, but nothing felt broken. Here and there the adhesive of a bandage tugged at his skin as he moved. Snake sat up slowly, and put a hand to his forehead.
The cabin door opened, then banged shut with the arctic wind behind it.
Otacon glanced down at him in surprise, and Snake looked up at the scientist steadily.
"...Hi," Otacon said, un-freezing. Under his white parka from the day before he wore borrowed jeans and a too-big hooded sweatshirt.
"Hi," Snake replied, in a voice that sounded like fine sandpaper.
"How do you feel?"
"Uh... I'll get back to you on that," Snake decided, with the ghost of a smirk.
"If you can joke about it, you'll be fine. Laughter is the best medicine, you know?"
Snake considered saying, 'good thing I've got you for a doctor,' but thought better of it.
"Hal?"
"Yes?"
"-Come here." Otacon stopped breathing momentarily, which Snake caught, but then he limped over and sat on the edge of the pallet beside Snake. Snake put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I never thanked you for getting me out of that base yesterday," Snake said, simply. "-Thank you."
"...You're welcome," Otacon replied, sounding just a bit squeaky at the end. He swore mentally, but Snake didn't seem to have noticed.
"I'm serious, Hal. I always thought I completed missions for truth, an end to Metal Gear, somebody I rescued, it didn't matter. When I found out I could put my own life, my own survival, AHEAD of all that... I didn't wanna BE me anymore. I didn't just want to die, I wanted to be -erased-..." Snake trailed off. "-I don't ever want to feel like that again."
"Well, I'm glad you're still here. -If you had died with Meryl, Liquid would have shot me as I was leaving the parking garage."
Snake felt as if he'd been punched. Otacon wasn't exaggerating or telling him anything he didn't already know, but the quiet statement chilled and grounded Snake in the same way as Otacon's eulogy to Sniper Wolf had done the day before.
There was steel here.
"That the only reason?" Snake asked, with a wry smile.
"...No," Otacon replied, consciously.
"That's good," Snake said, and shut his eyes.
The low-hanging arctic sun rose outside the door of the cabin, and cast four squares of cold, clear light on the far wall. The fire had gone down to coals in the night, but Snake's back felt warm. He looked over his shoulder to see why. Sure enough, Otacon was asleep back-to-back with him, lying outside the covers.
"Huh."
Snake got up carefully and left the blankets open, 'accidentally' covering his friend.
"We'll leave tonight," Snake decided, pinning a wet shirt to one of the clotheslines that ran across the ceiling. It steamed in the cool air, and smelled faintly of soap.
"Where to?" Otacon asked.
"Anywhere with a phone. I have to call my neighbor."
"What about us being legally dead?" Otacon pointed out. He handed Snake a clean wet sock, and Snake pinned it the line without looking at it.
"Randy won't talk. Besides, I have responsibilities back home that I think you'll understand."
"Do you have children?" Otacon asked, after a moment.
"Huskies."
"-You're a dog musher?" Otacon stared.
"Uh-huh," Snake grinned.
"That's great! That's, um... actually kind of creepy, now that I think about it," Otacon trailed off.
"Don't. This is Alaska. Outside Los Anchorage, dogs make more sense," Snake assured him.
"Well... I like dogs," Otacon began, looking over.
"I know."
A companionable silence fell, and the last of the laundry was washed and hung up to dry before either of them spoke again.
"Dave..."
"Yeah?"
"What about Colonel Campbell?"
"I'm done with the man," Snake replied, shortly. "-Every time, I swear I'll never believe him again, and every time he comes back and blackmails me into one more mission..."
"You aren't military? I mean, you weren't?" Otacon blinked.
"I'm prior special forces," Snake explained, "-but I've been out for a while."
"And Colonel Campbell is still using you for missions?"
"Shadow Moses makes two since I quit," Snake said, matter-of-factly.
Otacon looked at him for a long moment.
"-Then there's no WAY you believe that story about Mei-Ling's data securing our freedom."
"...I don't know what to believe," Snake sighed, "-but I'm not counting on help from the Colonel. ...Do you have any ideas?"
"I might," said Otacon.
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