A/N: The bold bits at the beginning and end are what's actually happening during Chapter Two of Wrong Side of Heaven, everything else is memories. I wanted to format it differently so everything was a bit more clear, but FF wouldn't let me format it the way I wanted to. As before, I don't own COD: Ghosts or its characters etc. I do however claim responsibility for Charlie's snark and awkwardness, along with Ryder. As always, reviews are welcome.
Hands steady and my weapon's leveled at me once again.
"I'm sorry, Hesh."
They tell us that that the President, the Commandant and the nation are grateful for Pop's service. That the flag they hand Momma is supposed to be a symbol of their appreciation. To me it's all bullshit. I don't give a good goddamn how grateful anyone says they are. None of that's bringing my old man back. Nothing will. But I can still fight. Not for country or Corp, for him.
I'm one in a sea of a thousand. The speeches all center on our responsibility as leaders and the importance of the roles we're about to take on and they all start to run together. When the Commandant tells us to rise I eagerly stand with my brothers and sisters. I raise my right hand. The Commandant asks if we as 2nd lieutenants will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; if we will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; if we take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; if we will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which we are about to enter. So help us God. I and my brothers and sisters answer in one voice with a resounding 'I do.'
It's been a massacre. Sixty against five hundred. I'm amazed we've been able to hang on this long. It's been three days. Three days and no sign of reinforcements. This is it. No one wants to step up and call it, but if someone doesn't then it's all been in vain. And I, for one, am not about to die for no goddamn reason.
"We can't hold this place," I tell the men, "We barely could when there were sixty of us. Now we're fifteen and we don't have a hope in hell."
"Are you suggesting we abandon our duties? Abort the mission?" the lone surviving Brit asks and I shake my head.
"No, I'm not…"
"Evans. Richard Evans, 22nd SAS Regiment."
"Look, that's not what I'm suggesting, Evans. We can't hold the hospital, but if we act fast we might still be able to save these civilians."
"What do you suggest?"
I tell them my plan. That we have a lone man lead the civilians away under cover of darkness while the rest of us stay behind to buy him time. They all realize it's a suicide mission but they agree anyways. It's the best plan we've got. So I have them draw lots to decide who leaves. I refuse to. It's my damn plan, I'm sure as shit going to see it through. When night falls the lucky bastard takes his leave, civilians in tow. And we take up our places among the dead. We lay beneath the bodies in wait, blood dripping over us and plastering sand to our faces. When the enemy comes through we spring up and fight. Fight 'til our weapons run dry. Fight 'til our blades run dull. Fight 'til the last enemy falls and the fourteen of us that stayed behind are the only ones left standing. I turn to the man that saved my ass, snapped some fucker's neck before he could put a bullet in my head, and shake his hand. I thank him but he blows it off, insists on thanking me instead. Tells me because of my plan, my leadership, he gets to go home to his wife and children. I ask him his name.
"Elias. Elias Walker."
I have no fucking clue how this all went south so damn fast, but Richard's screaming in pain. His leg's been blown to hell, just obliterated, and his gut's aching as he coughs up blood.
"R-Ryder. I've g-got to see Ryder. Got to s-see my boy."
It's not going to happen though. I know it and, even if he won't admit it to himself yet, Richard knows it too. We can't move him. Can't do anything to ease his pain. Only thing we can do is end his suffering. I give him the out and he takes it.
"Lo-Look after Ry-der, Gabe. Pr-promise me. Pr-promise you-you'll take care o-of my boy."
I give him my word that I will. He gives me the nod that he's ready. I pull the trigger.
Elias can't do barbecue worth a damn. At least he knows it. He's man enough to admit when he's out of his depth. Poor bastard's got a barbecue coming up this weekend, a party for one of his rugrats, so I take pity on him. Teach him the proper way to cook ribs and even let him in on the Rorke family secret sauce. I'm only a little offended when he doesn't invite me. Paranoid bastard may be my best friend, but he still insists on keeping the Ghosts and his family separate.
I'm worried sick. Elias has done damn near everything he could to keep us all away from his family. Some bullshit about them being safer that way. If he's calling me in it's gotta be pretty fucking bad. The woman at the front desk buzzes me through to the ER, tells me where to go. A million and one god awful scenarios are running through my head as I hurry through the sterile halls, the lingering scent of disinfectant assaulting my nose. I round the corner. There's a kid sitting on a bench out in the hall, can't be more than 9 or 10. Must be David. He's the spitting image of his father and he's sitting there, wide-eyed and white-faced, as he wrings his hands and kicks his feet. I stop beside him and he looks up at me with those glassy pine-green eyes, the one part of him that looks nothing like his father, as he struggles not to let the tears fall. Takes in my face, my cammies, and then he just looks me straight in the eye.
"My mom's dead."
Oh God. Kat. Poor Elias. And here's David, just staring up at me.
"David? Who are you talking to?" Elias calls, voice weak and weepy though he tries to hide it for his son, as he comes out into the hall.
His eyes are puffy and bloodshot. He's been crying. The second he sees me he breaks down all over again. I pull my friend into my arms and squeeze the ever-loving shit out of him as he sobs against my chest, wailing like an infant. Tells me Kat's gone. That he might lose his baby too. I don't know what to say. So I don't say anything. I just stand in the hall, my best friend in my arms bawling his eyes out as his world comes crashing down around him.
It's been a month. A month a man down. A month without Elias. He asked for it and after everything there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to deny his request. Not when he lost Kat. When Charlie'd just barely been released and allowed to come home.
Which is why I'm surprised as shit when I walk back into my office and find Elias sitting there, waiting for me. He looks exhausted.
"What the hell are you doing here Elias?" I ask as I drop heavily into my chair.
"Good to see you too Gabe."
We sit in silence for a moment and I study him. I see the dark circles under his eyes, the grief that refuses to leave them.
"How're the kids?"
"They're good. David… David's angry, but he's happy to have Charlie home. And Charlie… Charlie's strong," he tells me, letting out a soft chuckle, "Hell, my baby's probably handling this all better than the rest of us could ever hope to. Keeps telling me that it's OK to miss Kat, but that she's in a better place and that she wants us all to be happy."
I shoot him a look of disbelief.
"How old's this kid?"
"Charlie'll be five next month."
I just shake my head.
"Your kid's fucking weird, Elias."
That earns me a laugh. Not some half-assed chuckle, but a deep, belly laugh that nearly has Elias in tears. It's good. Good to see my friend looking a bit more like his old self.
"Oh Gabe," he sighs, "You don't know the half of it."
He proceeds to tell me how he watched Hook with the two rugrats and has had to watch it with the youngest, on repeat, every day since. He also informs me that he's learned the hard way that you can't leave a kid like Charlie alone with a pair of scissors. Says he walked in and Charlie had the scissors in one hand and a fistful of cut hair in the other. Shame too. Apparently the kid had had fucking gorgeous hair, not that I would know. Nearly killed Elias, but he took the scissors and helped the little shit finish.
"And then Charlie spent the rest of the day running around the house crowing like one of the lost boys. Drove me fucking nuts," he tells me, a fond smile on his face, "Didn't stop until David got home."
I laugh at that. The kid sounds like a handful. Almost makes me glad he refuses to let the Ghosts have anything to do with his family because at least it means I'm off the hook for babysitting.
"And they say war is hell," I tease before sighing, "So what is it, Elias? I know you didn't come down here just to shoot the breeze. What do you need? More time?"
"God no!" Elias responds quick enough that I've got to raise an eyebrow at him. He just sighs. "Look, I love my kids. I do, I just… I can't do it, Gabe. I can't just sit around in our house playing Mr. Mom and pretending everything's fine. I'm not… I'm not her. I'm never even going to come close. It… Look, I want to come back."
"Elias-"
"No, just… I know it sounds shitty, to want to come back this fast and you know what, maybe it is a shitty thing to do. Maybe I'm a shitty father, but I'm going crazy, Gabe. I need… I need this. I'm good at this."
I study him a moment. Even through the fatigue and the grief, it's easy to see his desperation.
"What about the rugrats?" I ask seriously because as much as I want my friend back, I'll be damned if it's going to be a problem for his brats.
"Bev and Mike are staying. They wanted to move out here to help with the kids… Charlie and David are all they've got left, Kat was their only child."
I nod. Part of me's worried he's rushing this, coming back too soon. But I know Elias. He's a stubborn son of a bitch and if he wants to come back, I'm sure as hell not going to be the one to try and stop him.
"I, Ryder Pierce Evans, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."
I couldn't be prouder of the kid. Well, I guess that's not completely true. I'd always held out hope that he'd want to join the Corp like I had and like my father had before me since he's the closest I'll probably ever come to having a son of my own. Joanna wasn't having any of that though. She agreed to sign the papers on the condition that he didn't join the Corp. So he went Army instead. Guess that's alright. Elias was Army before the Ghosts and he turned out OK.
I'd been wrong. Turns out I could be prouder of the kid and I am when he joins the Ghosts. His first mission out, when he actually earns the mask, is primarily intel recovery. It's just me and Ryder. He's a natural and so much like his old man it's scary. There's a couple of times I forget that it's Ryder, not Richard, beside me.
It launches. Elias is just a few seconds too slow to stop it and the force of the launch knocks him on his ass, blowing his helmet clean off. The SAM's target becomes apparent as the missile hits the dam just outside the city. Almagro's flooding Caracas. I rush over and haul Elias to his feet as he dazedly pulls his on his helmet. We've got to get moving, and fast, if we're going to have any chance of surviving.
"We've gotta get off the street. Move!" I bellow.
No one has to be told twice. Merrick's shouting at everyone to move as well as we all take off running. I direct my men. Up the street and down an alley as a wall of water comes rushing toward us. It's almost inspiring, the complete and total refusal to surrender, the lengths Almagro's willing to go to to ensure we don't succeed. Another time, another life, I could almost admire the man. This time, this life, I'm going to kill the bastard. No one, no one, threatens my men like this. The water flooding the city picks up a truck and crashes it into the wall at the other end of the alley, blocking our escape and Merrick starts to swear. I glance around and find a set of doors.
"In here!" I shout as water swirls around my ankles.
I crash through the doors, my men hot on my heels, and rush through the warehouse we've found ourselves in as the water continues to climb higher. Calves. Knees. Hips. Chest. Hop a ledge to some higher ground and it starts again. Calves. Knees. Hips. Chest. We press on, never slowing, and wade through the ever rising water. Eventually we hit stairs and continue our mad dash upward. Once the water finally stops chasing us I tell everyone to slow down, catch their breath, and we stop on a landing to do just that. Don't give them long, after all, we don't exactly have the luxury of time. When I get us started again Merrick comes up beside me, asking my permission to speak freely. I give it.
"I think we should call this one. I mean, that asshole just flooded the damn city and took out half his own guys," Merrick recommends hoarsely as we continue upward.
"And half of ours, too," I growl; I'm still fucking pissed about my men being put in danger like this and it just strengthens my resolve to end the bastard, "We're Ghosts, Merrick. We finish the mission."
Merrick tries to convince me, but I'm not having it. If I thought I wanted Almagro dead before it's nothing compared to what I'm feeling now. Merrick takes the hint and shuts up. The building rumbles around us and Ajax warns that it won't hold. It's a good thing we won't be in it much longer then, just long enough to get the roof and get after Almagro. There's hostiles on the rooftop and Elias is the first to start shooting. We're still dropping the SOBs when the roof gives way beneath us and drops us in the drink. I'm tossed and tumbled through man-made rapids, hardly able to catch my breath before I'm dragged under again. By some miracle I catch a ledge and manage to haul myself out, drop into some flooded office building. My gut twists and clenches nervously as I realize I'm alone. I have no idea where my men are. I hurry back to my feet and look out the window, desperate for any sign of them. Hands shoot out of the water and cling to a fallen metal beam, relief rushes through me as Elias' head pops up and he sucks down air.
"Elias!"
The relief is short lived. A truck slams into the beam, knocking it and Elias loose, and sending him back into the water. I let out a stream of curses and hang myself halfway out the window.
"Grab my hand, Elias!" I shout, reaching for him as his head pops up for a brief moment before he's dragged under again.
Come on, come on. Fuck, I don't know what I'm going to do if I lose him. My best friend. Never mind having to tell his rugrats that they're orphans. God, I don't think I can handle another Ryder. Kid nearly broke my damn heart, and there was only one of him. But my best friend's boys? I can't do it. Come on, Elias. After the longest few seconds of my fucking life his hand shoots up, latching onto mine. I heave him in through the window.
"I gotcha!" I help him back to his feet and he breathes deeply, greedy for air. I clap him on the back and turn toward the interior of the office, taking point. "Looks like it's just you and me now, brother."
For a while it is. We make our way through water-logged, Fed-infested ruins for a few minutes before we pick up Merrick's call. Save the stubborn bastard's ass and press on toward Almagro. He's in a hurry to take off, but we make quick work of the Feds standing in our way and rush the helo before he can. There's a blur of action. Merrick and I have our hands full dealing with a couple of Almagro's body guards, but Elias manages to get a pistol free. He fires quickly, damn near empties a clip, trying to down Almagro. The bastard moves fast though, getting ahold of the pistol and beating Elias to the ground with it before Elias can shoot him. Then he's standing over my buddy, pistol in hand, ready to end his life and I'm seeing red.
"NO!"
Snap the neck of the Federation fucker I'd been dealing with and leap on Almagro, throwing his shot off and buying Elias the time he needs to pick up his fallen pistol and end the bastard. He does. Almagro's dead. Don't have time to celebrate though because one of the shots caught the pilot. Merrick makes a mad dash for the controls, but it's too late. We're going down. We crash to a stop on the edge of a building, the rapids raging through the streets of Caracas clearly visible below us. The bird's falling apart. We're too damn heavy. We won't stay up for long and Elias is way too fucking close to the edge for comfort. I'm just about to order him to move back when the whole damn thing shifts and the two of us are sent tumbling toward disaster. I manage to catch myself on a fucking ladder. I'm relieved when I catch sight of Elias clinging to a thick cable. Dread snuffs out the relief as the damn helo shifts again. I grab Elias' outstretched hand, but I don't budge, caught on the ladder. Elias makes no move to hoist me up. Just stares. His eyes are cold… detached… calculating.
"Elias," I plead.
"Ajax," he calls, voice as icy as his eyes.
And then he lets go.
"Elias!"
Down I go. Two shots ring out and pain spreads through my chest as I hit the water below.
"Y-you can't be. You're dead."
Torch is pale and it's not just from the blood loss. I smirk.
"That what Elias told you?"
Torch doesn't respond. Bastard doesn't say much of anything after that actually. Getting him to speak is like pulling teeth. Literally. Even Ghosts break though, I learned that the hard way, and soon enough he's telling me that Grim's operating nearby.
"I'm dead. I-I have to be. That's it. I'm dead. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."
Grim's disbelief is comical. But the second I smirk it disappears, replaced by dread.
"You're not. Not yet anyway."
Costs him a severe beating and a few fingers, but eventually he spills and tells me what I want to know. Elias is in Santa Monica. He's leading the Ghosts, acting as his brats' CO too. Yeah, they joined up. From what Grim says the kids are decent soldiers. Decent enough that Elias is considering bringing them up. I smile at thought of gutting his boys in front of him.
Eleven years, eleven months exactly since I last saw this bastard. Since he fucking shot me. Turned on his commander. Death, death is too good for Ajax, so I take my time with him. Pulling nails and breaking bones, waterboarding and beating him to a bloody pulp. He's choking on blood when he tells me about their safehouse in Vegas and all its security. I leave him gasping on the floor. Let Merrick and Keegan find him. He's as good as dead and I have someplace better to be.
Elias is pathetic. Can't control his kid and he still thinks he's going to be able to get me to spill my guts. It's sad. Don't want to bother with him, even just as a way to pass the time until Vincente gets here. The kid on the other hand, I'll have fun with. Turns out to be a mistake. Misjudged just how fucking volatile Elias' youngest was. Charlie surprises the hell out of me and beats the ever-loving shit out of me. Even has the fucking guts to stab me before bailing out. Haven't been impressed by anyone like this for years.
I don't know how the fuck she does it, but Charlie gets loose, tries to come after me. It's a futile attempt, but still, impressive as hell. She's definitely what I've been looking for, what El Mozo's been looking for.
I don't enjoy Elias' death nearly as much as I expected to. The girl bleeding at my feet can take all the credit for that. Between distracting Elias and making me feel like a goddamn voyeur, she takes away most of the enjoyment I should've gotten from his demise. As it is, the only good part of it was that the fucking traitor was finally dead.
Even incoherent from blood loss she doesn't know when to quit. Keeps fighting and struggling against me even though I'm just trying to help. I'm grateful when the sedative finally kicks in and she starts to relax. Run my fingers through her hair and she relaxes into my touch. I smile down at her, reveling in the softness I find in her pine green eyes.
Those pine green eyes are hard as fucking stone now. After everything I've gone through, everything I've done, I'm dead. Elias tried again and again to kill me and it never took. Suppose there's a sort of beautiful symmetry in Charlie being the one to finally do me in. She pulls the trigger. The shot rings out. Fire burns through me. I fall and the world dims.