Once again. Taylor had found herself laying awake at three in the morning, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. Her eyes going over each intricate pattern carved into the plaster. Her temple still ached from the injury she sustained only a few hours ago. She rolled onto her side, groaning as she curled up into a ball. Shepherd has had the Task Force all over the place on small, pointless op's based on crappy intel from questionable 'informants'.
The most recent op had been a complete disaster. A small safehouse in a deserted part of Chelyabinsk which Shepherd believed to be containing an anonymous target who supposedly knew the whereabouts of the terrorist Makarov. Of course it was a trap. Much like the compound they assaulted in the Karkonosze Mountains. She forced her mind off of the topic as her chest tightened slightly. But her imagination was unwilling to turn away from any morbid thoughts and she started thinking about the man they'd lost not to long ago.
Canine. She had to admit, she detested the man, her feelings didn't change after his death. The Canadian was arrogant, loud and had a total disregard for rank along with other peoples feelings. He was one of the many men in the 141 who believed that Taylor had abused her old friendship with the Captain to secure herself a spot in the Task Force, and almost always tried to pull rank on her despite them both being 2nd Lieutenants, and their childish insults often resulted in bitter arguments that nearly had Taylor punching the pretty boy smirk off his face. She would of aswell if Ghost didn't keep getting in the way. He prided himself on being the best explosives man in the business, only to end up being killed by an early detonation in one of his own devices. She could only roll her eyes at the irony.
Her two years in the Task Force hadn't been easy. The younger men instantly took against her, throwing harsh insults and slurs her way whenever they could. It was nothing she hadn't already heard, Mac had thrown much worse at her during her days as an F.N.G. Then there was the Captain. She did her best not to blur the line between Captain and subordinate with Soap (she'd even agreed to keep his nickname a secret and call him 'sir') but the carefree camaraderie they instantly formed raised suspicion and the rest of the team soon caught wind of the fact that they used to be on the same team five years ago. And despite their efforts to play down the friendship the rumor mill began turning.
She lifted her head and slammed it back into the pillow in frustration, instantly regretting it as a dull ache pulsed through her forehead. She grumbled and cursed the Russian who clubbed her with his pistol in the split second she broke focus to pull Roach back to his feet after he tripped over a corpse and went flying, giving her a mild concussion. She needed alcohol. Alcohol numbs everything. She could go knock on Royce's door, surely her drinking partner would sort her out with the single malt he kept hidden in his bedside cabinet. But Doc had assigned Roach to wake her up every few hours to make sure she wasn't sleeping for extended periods of time, otherwise she could land herself in a coma. So she'd most likely end up being caught staggering back to her room and sent to rest in the infirmary. Not that deep sleep was a problem, her insomnia had kept her awake for the past month. But that didn't make her any less grumpy when someone tapped lightly on the door.
''Hey Hazard'' Roach's voice called from the other side. Taylor winced at the call-sign, it was given to her by Soap as a homage to her two left feet and the fact that the men from the 22nd regiment used to 'affectionately' call her a walking hazard. ''It's been two hours''
''Fuck. Off'' She growled. She sat up and glared daggers at the younger man as he approached and sat on her bed, she rolled her eyes. ''Alright, i'm still awake. Please go away now'' Roach just laughed.
''So'' He kicked his boots of and crossed his legs ''How'r you feeling? You look good'' Taylor scowled at his badly hidden sarcasm.
''Why are you doing this? I need peace and quiet and Doc refuses to give me any more drugs''
''I need to make sure you're coherent'' He shrugged ''Doc's orders not mine. And I guess it is kinda my fault that you were pistol whipped in the first place'' He studied her for a few moments.
''How's Cobra?'' She felt obliged to ask. Cobra was Canines wingman, or slave. Depending on the perspective. He was the only person who took the whatever shit he dished out. He was shy, and unable to stand up to the Canadian brute. But he wasn't a bad guy from what Taylor could see. Roach shrugged.
''Pretty shaken up'' Roach sighed.
''At least he's free of his influence'' Taylor said. She groaned and cradled her head in her hands as her temple flared up again.
''Does it really hurt that much?'' The younger man asked, when Taylor nodded he bit his lip ''Shit, sorry i'm such a clumsy ass'' Taylor laughed.
''I used to be the same'' She shrugged.
''Still'' He sighed ''Thanks anyway'' He gave her a weak smile.
''Have you spoken with the Captain?'' She asked, swiftly changing topics.
''Yeah, we didn't pick up anything valuable. You didn't miss much while you were unconscious''
''Right'' She pinched the bridge of her nose ''Shepherd got anything else planned for us?''
''Why are you so eager?'' He chuckled ''You just need to rest now''
''Wasn't it was your job to keep me coherent?'' She asked with a grin.
''Fine'' He rolled his eyes. ''It's not definite, but apparently the Captain's only taking one guy for this one''
''Why just one?'' She asked with a frown.
''Not sure, but whoever he picks will find out'' He glanced at the digital clock sitting on her bedside ''I'm gonna let you sleep a little more. I'll see you at breakfast?''
''Yeah'' She sighed and watched as he left the room. She fell backwards and winced as her head hit the pillow. She knotted her fingers behind her head, and went back to staring at the ceiling. Her eyes once again began to go over the patterns and strokes. The more repetitive it became the heavier her eyes got, and soon enough. She was drifting into a rare, and restless sleep.
Helpless, numb, and only hearing the yelling and the sound of bullets being emptied into already broken bodies. A sound she remembers all to well. Unable to move, the only function she can manage is the blink of her teary eyes as she watches the massacre of her team-mates and friends. A shaky hand slowly moves to her stomach, blood pumps in endless streams from the shrapnel wound that shredded her stomach. She felt the burn in her abdomen with every shallow breath she took.
Her eyes swept over the fiery carnage that was their escape route. Civilian cars lay in burning wrecks on their sides and roofs. Not to far away lay the large tanker that blocked their way. She looked for her teammates. Gaz and Arem lay motionless a few meters away, along with who she suspected to be MacDonald. The only men to be seen were those that were already dead.
She looked for Price and Soap. he only two men she knew were still alive. But a bitter, malicious laugh demanded her attention. Her head whipped back round and her heart stopped a what she saw.
Who else but Imran Zakhaev. He stood over her, holding the pistol he used to kill Gaz. His black eyes twinkled with evil glee as he beheld his helpless victim.
She wanted to cry, plead for her life. Anything to keep herself alive. Not caring about cowardice in her weakened state. Zakhaev's face bore no sympathy, just a constant glare as he leveled his pistol. Everything moved in slow motion, the destruction around them blurred into silence. It was just the two of them. Soap wasn't here with Price's pistol to save her now. All she could do was hold her breath, and wait...
Zakhaev's finger lightly brushed the cold trigger. He gave one last sneer before squeezing. She heard the shot and felt the bullet rip through her chest. The last thing she could hear through her pain and sobbing, was Zakhaev's cold laugh.
Taylor's eyes flew open, she coughed a few times, sat bolt upright and grabbed at the front of her t-shirt with a trembling hand. She looked down at the white Osprey's jersey, only when she was sure that there was no blood did she allow herself to relax. She rolled her tense shoulders and turned to her digital clock. She groaned in disbelief when she saw that it had only been fifteen minutes since she'd dozed off. Shaking her head, she kicked the covers off her clammy skin, threw her legs over the edge of the bed and buried her aching face in her hands. She wanted to get up, but her shaky legs wouldn't support her for more than a few steps.
She flicked the bedside lamp on. The light was a small comfort. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, the gunshot still fresh in her mind. Nightmares were nothing new in her line of work, she was used to sleep deprivation. Most of the dreams she had were the usual, falling, having a loved one die, running from something you can't see, or even just being emerged in complete darkness and never able to find a way out. They'd never been a problem for her. But this particular night terror never failed to scare her shitless. Even in death, Zakhaev still manages to be the bane of her existence.
She dreamed about Price sometimes too, but dreams like this were just mini flashbacks of her short time on Credenhill. Oddly enough, it was these memories that were the most painful reliving.
Soap suffered to. She knew he did, even if he never said anything outright. No matter how much they tried to avoid the topic around each other, they were still blindsided from losing Price. He'd hinted that he didn't sleep any more that she did, since her and Ghost were the only two people he'd actually talk to. But she'd seen him rigorously cleaning and tweaking that pistol Price slid to him five years ago on that bridge. She'd asked him about it a few times, but she was answered with grunts and annoyed looks. The weapon had become his obsession.
A shiver ran through her sweaty frame. Sleep was futile now, she continued to stare into space. Another glance at the time told her that breakfast was in half an hour. She got up, wincing at the ache in her back. She reached for the least worst smelling t-shirt and jeans and pulled her hair back into a hasty bun. Heavy footsteps that probably belonged to the younger lot of the 141 rang outside her door. She waited for the racket to pass before making her way to the mess hall.
Pushing the double doors open, she automatically headed for the small kitchen, which was currently occupied by Archer who had control of the kettle. Like her, Archer and and anyone else close to the age of thirty were considered the older bunch of soldiers. The two had been good friends since she'd been recruited, the sniper was one of the few men who showed her genuine respect and made her feel welcome in the team. She leaned on the counter next to him and gave him a tired smile as he reached for a second mug.
''Morning Hazard'' The older sniper grinned ''How's your face? You look fantastic'' He quipped sarcastically while glancing at her injury.
''Fuck off'' She chuckled, playfully knocking her hip against his ''But good, thank you'' She gratefully accepted the cup of coffee he handed her with one hand, the other lightly scratched at the paper stitches holding the gash together ''It would of been even better if Doc had those Mickey Mouse plasters but I can make do with plain''
''I would of thought the little pink ones with hearts would be more up your alley'' He chuckled deeply.
''Nope'' She took a generous sip of coffee ''If I want anything holding this pretty face together I'd prefer it to be Disney characters''
''Please'' Archer smirked ''I don't think it matters, the 141 has long since knocked out whatever prettiness that face had'' Taylor mock scowled, nudging him with her elbow.
''Fuck you'' She rolled her eyes ''That is not how you talk to a woman''
''You're not a woman, you're Hazard'' A self satisfied smile flashed across his face at his reply. Taylor paused, drinking more coffee before looking up at him.
''You're a dick. I do enjoy our banter. But you're a dick'' She said simply.
''I know'' Archer yawned loudly. Taylor cocked an eyebrow.
''Am I really that boring mate?'' She asked, her voice tainted with amusement.
''Yes'' He said. They both nodded to Worm as he approached and reach passed them for his hot chocolate sachets. He smirked at them both and went to refill the kettle.
''You guys heard yet?'' The normally quiet African American cocked a quizzical eyebrow.
''About?'' The other said almost simultaneously.
''The next op, apparently it's a two man job. The Captain's choosing who gets to go''
''Hm'' Archer grunted
''Must be a quiet grab and go'' Taylor sighed ''Ten quid says Riley goes''
''It's likely'' Worm shrugged. He then frowned and nodded towards the door. Where a haggard looking Cobra walked in and sat himself at an unoccupied table.
''Shit, that's right'' Archer sighed ''You lost Canine last night didn't you?'' Taylor frowned at him, then remembered he didn't accompany them to Chelyabinsk.
''Yeah'' Taylor sighed ''Killed by his own creation''
''Damn'' Worm said. Though he didn't sound to upset. The tables began to clear as the men began filing to training. Taylor drained what was left of her mug and discarded it into the sink.
''You coming to the pit Hazard?'' Worm asked over his shoulder.
''I'm still supposed to be on bed rest, so i'll just hang out on the range'' She paused and turned to Archer. The range was practically his territory ''If that's okay with you?'' Archer nodded.
''Sure. Toad's crap company anyway''
The range was empty save for Taylor and the two snipers. She spent most of her time here. Usually to blow of steam after a spat with Canine. Just emptying bullets into targets for hours on end. It wasn't as good for tension release like sparring or boxing. But the range was also a place for the men to throw idle gossip back and forth. Which despite it being childish, Taylor couldn't help but enjoy.
''I bet it's Ozone'' The American accent of Toad echoed through the range. The younger sniper was having one of his many conspiracy bitching sessions. Taylor re-loaded her pistol and exchanged a glance with Archer.
''Why him?'' She asked, humoring him ''He's only been with us for three months''
''So what?'' Toad scoffed ''The little kiss ass could sweet-talk his way into anything''
''I very much doubt the Captain would fall for sweet talk'' Taylor aimed and fired six bullets into the metal targets. Grunting in satisfaction as they hit their mark.
''Who do think it is then?'' Toad asked, straightening up from his prone position. Taylor rolled her eyes.
''I'm not doing this Toad'' She deadpanned. ''Just let it go, it'll probably end up being Ghost anyway''
''Maybe'' Archer agreed ''Whatever this op is, even if it does only need two men it's probably important. MacTavish would want someone he could trust out there''
''Especially if he's only taking one man'' Taylor said.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the quiet only being broken by the gunshots at quiet bickering between the two snipers. Taylor abandoned her pistol and settled for sitting on the table, leaning back against the wall. Occasionally offering an input into Toad and Archer's debates. Her attention was diverted to the doors as they slowly swung open. Roach's head poked through the small gap, she grinned when he saw her. He shut the doors behind him, quickly nodding to Toad and Archer before hopping up on the table next to her.
''Looking to get some target practice Roach?'' She asked.
''No'' He replied '' I was looking for you, and Worm said you'd be here''
''Well'' She sighed, leaning her head back again ''You found me. Whats up?'' She frowned as Roach continued to give her an expectant grin.
''I was just in the Captains office'' He paused, throwing a glance over at the two other men before lowering his voice ''Guess i'm going to the Tian Shan mountains to retrieve an ACS module''
Although she felt a slight, but sharp pang of jealousy. She was happy for her friend. And that she was the first person he wanted to tell. She gave him a smile and a playfully nudged his arm.
''That's fantastic mate!'' She practically squealed ''You must be thrilled''
''I'm shitting myself'' He laughed ''But yeah, it is one hell of an opportunity''
''You're fucking right it is. But a lot of lads probably wanted that opportunity, you might want to watch your back'' She snorted ''So. When do you ship out?''
''Tomorrow at 0700 hours'' He sighed.
''Damn'' Taylor chuckled ''That's pretty early''
''Yeah'' He glanced at his watch ''I just wanted you to be the first to know, don't tell anyone''
''They'll find out eventually'' She shrugged. ''But i'll keep it to myself in the meantime''
''Thanks'' He smiled, he glanced at his watch and sighed ''I better go get my shit together''
''You do that''
I tried to make it longer and less suckish. But it's short. And sukish. Apologies. But the next chapter will be Cliffhanger, and we'll take it from there :) I think I can do this. Just bear with me :P
A big thanks to Butterscotch MacTavish for listening to my endless drabbles. And too GHOST oo007 for being my buddy :P and smokeyuchiha for the encouraging message.
Also, listen to 'Where Butterfly's never die' by Broken Iris. It's my theme song for Taylor, it's a little morbid. But I find it strangely fitting.
:)