[Search Cpt. John 'Soap' Mactavish]

[2 hours after prev. Transmission]

(The Other One)

I can hardly breathe. The pain is becoming so acute that I can't think. Barely aware of my surroundings and unable to move I just listen. "We are landing now. Is he still alive?"

Two fingers press against my jugular, checking for a pulse. "Yes. Keep it steady Nikolai, his bandages are coming open."

The helicopter veers to the right and gently touches down. I have no idea where we are. I don't really care either. It's done. I killed him. The thought of his body lying there is so satisfying. I wish I could've grabbed that knife; it would've been a nice trophy. Slowly I open my heavy eyelids, spotting Price and Nikolai's concerned faces above me. I force a smile, which comes out more of a grimance, ignoring the new wave of pain from my ribs. "G'morning gentlemen," I mutter, voice hoarse and full of the exhaustion I am feeling. "That was a smooth flight."

"How are you feeling Soap?"

"Peachy; swell even."

"That is good to hear." Nikolai grins.

I give him an odd look. "I was being sarcastic."

The smile disappears, "Oh."

"Let's get going." Price urges, probably already annoyed with having to drag Nikolai around. I let my eyes shut again as they push me into a sitting position, stand me up, and half-carry me out of the Pave-low. I can barely think straight let alone stand on my own, or even with their help. Pathetic, I know, but I could care less at the moment. I groan in pain as the wound stretches out and bleeds faster, dousing me in sticky red liquid. My feet don't want to co-operate and refuse to move as they drag me to a re-enforced door.

Nikolai knocks forcefully and a small hatch opens up. No face appears, but a nervous voice says, "Yes?"

"Sveta, it is Nikolai. We need to come in."

"We…" The voice belonged to a woman. I knew that for certain even without seeing her face. "What 'we'? You brought someone here?"

Nikolai looks a little annoyed. "Sveta, darling, we do not have time for this."

"I am not your 'darling' and I am not letting you in." Her accent is Russian. She sounds beyond annoyed by our intrusion, especially when she knows it's Nikolai calling on her.

The pilot groans, listing off a few obscenities. "PLEASE, let us in."

"No. Go find some one else to drag along on one of your mindless adventures." The slide on the door begins to close up again. "Goodbye."

"WAIT!" He calls. "My friend is injured."

Now a pair of bright blue eyes appears in the opening. They lock on Nikolai for a moment, before flitting over to me. The icy blues examine me for a moment before the woman mutters some Russian profanities and sighs. "I must be out of my mind." The slot snaps shut and the door swings open. "Get your rears inside before someone sees you."

Price and Nikolai hastily obey, guiding me inside. I groan again. It's all I can do to keep from whimpering…or blacking out for that matter.

"Where do you want us to put him down?" Nikolai grunts.

"I have an extra cot in the back. We can not keep him in the foyer, now can we?" Sveta returns coolly, leading us through a short hallway. The whole place looks like a regular cabin—minus the front door—and could easily pass of as a person's residence. Nobody could be truly suspicious until they reached the back room.

Sveta brushes her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder before knocking three times on the wooden wall. "Coming," The wall, which houses a secret door, creaks open and reveals a thin young man standing there. "I thought I heard Nikolai," Great…an Irish guy, I can tell just by his ridiculous accent. "Welcome back. How's it been on the open range?"

"Terrible," Nikolai smiles, "Look what I brought home."

"More outlaws." The man laughs and steps aside, allowing us entrance. The hidden room is all concrete, looking more like a bunker than a home. "Put that on the cot. I'll pull another for both of you."

"Easy, Nikolai," Sveta urges from behind us. "Do not injure him."

"Da," He returns curtly. Price and I share a quick smirk before chuckling softly. It's clear that the two Russians didn't part on the best of terms.

"Up we go," The unintroduced man urges, helping Nikolai and Price lift me onto the white sheets of a hospital cot, "How you feeling?"

"Bloody brilliant," I mutter, fighting off another bout of white hot pain.

He laughs again, good-naturedly of course, and pats my shoulder. "You're among friends now." His eyes flick to my chest. "Sveta, you better handle this 'un. He's bleedin' like a facet."

"Just a moment," Though Sveta is in my blind spot from this position I can hear a tap running. "You take care of the other one."

Price makes a mock-indignant face because of being called 'other one' before going to sit on another cot. I take the momentary pause to look around the room. It's a pretty large space, filled to the brim with medical supplies. It could almost pass off as one of the larger rooms in the infirmary back at the base, other than the concrete, though it lacks some of the more technological equipment. I notice that a portion of the large room is curtained off, but before I can ask about it Sveta sticks me with an IV. "GAH! Don't sneak up on somebody with one of those things!"

The woman just chuckles and shakes her head. "Just take some deep breaths. Trust me; you do not want to be awake for this."

"I don't want to go to sleep…ye—"

My eyes slide closed between sleep and ye— and I never finish saying 'yet'.

[Transmission CUT]

{CONTINUE CODE REQUIRED}

[ENTER CODE ********]

{DENIED}

[********]

{DENIED}

[RUN Trojen5567339532]

{ACCEPTED}

[TRANSMISSION Continue]

By the time I wake up, Sveta and mystery man have finished working on us and have disappeared. I spot Nikolai and Price talking quietly. I lift my head as best I can and call, "Mind telling me where the hell we are?"

"Goodmorning, princess," Price laughs, coming over to my cot. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I admit while letting my head fall back against the pillow. "Sveta's a good medic."

"Da, I knew she could handle this." Nikolai smiles proudly.

My (former, since we've become outlaws and lost our titles) captain rolls his eyes at the Russian's statement. "Big success there Nikolai. You also sucsessfully ticked her off this morning."

"That wasn't me."

"Who was it, the voice inside your head?"

"Da—I mean no."

"Gentlemen," I interject, not really wanting to be forgotten.

My call, however, goes unanswered.

"You are the one who asked about the curtains."

"You're the one who pushed the subject too far."

"Excuse me," I try again—though still ignored.

"Only because I could tell you were curious."

"But you knew it was a bad idea."

"Hellloooooooooo…" I go one last time, albeit annoyed about it.

"What?" They demand in unison.

"I'm hungry." I pout childishly, trying to steer the conversation back to our current situation and not what happened while I was unconsious.

Price stares at me with a look of surprise for a moment before letting out great peals of laughter. "You're still a little kid, you know that John."

"We can't all be old and decrepit like you." I chuckle, flinching when the slight movement pulls at my stitches.

There's hardly a moment of silence before the door bursts open and Sveta charges through, accompanied by the man from earlier. They threw open the curtained portion of the room, revealing several more cots. "Get them in here NOW. I'll get some IVs ready."

The man nods, leaving Sveta to her work. She dashes around, sorting through needles and IV bags and medicines and all kinds of medical junk. The whole time she was muttering to herself about people intruding on her home and her privacy like a bunch of helpless children with no homes. I feel a little guilty now. After all, this woman probably tried to live a normal life with a war going on around her. Now she has it crashing through her front door, demanding attention and help.

The door swings open again and another man walks in, carrying a bundled up person in his massive arms, the form half slumped over his shoulder. "Where do you want 'em?" He asks gruffly.

"Just on one of these cots." Sveta waves her hand dismissively, too engrossed in her work to actually look up. She pulls an assortment of bandages down from the top shelf. "Go help Sean with the other one." Finally satisfied with her array of equipment she turns to the new patient.

The muscular figure glances over at the three of us, sizing us up. "Who are these clowns?"

Sveta, annoyed by the further interruption, glares at him. "Terrance, they are not 'clowns' they are my guests. Go. Help. Sean." The man shrugs and hurries out the door, apparently to go help the Irishman bring in another patient. Meanwhile, the blonde woman gets back to work, eyes focused on the patient, who is still hidden from our view. Her gaze is intense. She doesn't falter once as she pulls off a very bloody army vest and then a ripped Kevlar follows it to the floor. "This will be harder than the last one." She mutters, barely loud enough for us to hear.

Sean and Terrance return, helping a wounded man through the door. They stop in the doorway for a moment. That's when the man looks up and identifies us. "Soap?"

I lift my head for a better view. "Ghost?"

"Ghost?" Price repeats.

"Price?" Ghost's mask is gone and his face is bandaged in several different spots, but it is definitely and undeniably him.

"Do not forget about me."

"Nikolai's here too?" Ghost shrugs away the helping hands of Sean and Terrance, hobbling over to us. "You have no idea what a relief it is to see friendly faces again." His smile is genuine, showing off his ever-hidden features. "I thought for sure we were all dead."

"Terrance, I need help over here." Sveta interrupts.

"Sorry, doll, I was distracted by the three outlaws in your care." He hurries over to her side. I notice that Nikolai stiffens slightly as he calls her this. No-one notices but me. "She flat-lined twice already."

"Perfect." Our temporary medic hisses, grabbing another roll of bandages and rolling a blood transfusion over to the bedside. "Sean, take care of that one." She motions at Ghost.

He mutters, "I guess I'm 'that one'." And follows his designated doctor to his own cot.

Price and I share a worried look as we watch him wave off Sean's offered help and limp to the cot in a very unsteady stagger. He sinks into the matress and calls over to us, "I'd love to hear more about your adventure."

Before any of us can speak up, his 'doctor' interupts. "There will be time for chatter later. For now, we need ta take care a' this." Ignoring Ghost's following grumbles and curses; Sean steps forward and closes the curtains.

It isn't long before Nikolai finds his voice. "Well…that was strange."

"Yes," I nod as best as I can with my head against the pillow. "Very strange." I can barely think straight. Ghost is alive. He's still the same old, stubborn, strong man as before. He's right on the other side of a thin blue curtain.

"He didn't seem all right to me. Did you see that limp?" Price notes, keeping his voice low in case Ghost wasn't out yet.

"Da." Nikolai agrees. His expression goes from concerned to down-right worried. "He is covered in blood too. Why is it that you all seem to be covered in blood every time I meet up with you?"

"Not every time." I argue.

"Every time." He repeats, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. "Every time."

"Don't visit anymore then," I laugh, "I'm still hungry."

Honestly, I could care less about the food at the moment. I really want to know how Ghost bloody survived Shepherd's betrayl. I heard the confirm-kill with my own two ears! Both he and Roach were tossed into a pit and lit on fire! Nobody had been around to help them out. These questions—and countless others—are currently eating away at my mind, begging for some form of attention. But they'll have to wait. Ghost needs rest. And, though I hate to admit it, I do too. So do Price and Nikolai.

I can still hear Sveta and Terrance talking quietly. No name pops up or any other key words as to who their fifth patient is. It's maddening to know that someone else is here who could be one of our friends is over there with one of our supposedly dead comrades. Whoever it is must be having a hard time. Terrance did say that they'd already flatlined a few times.

Again the questions are shoved to the side. I make a short effort to give up, only to be pushed roughly back down by Price. "No." He says simply. "Get some more rest."

"You get some more rest." I retort, trying again. He steps back and watches me struggle, a satisfied smirk on his face. Finally, with a defeated huff, I give up and grumble, "This is gonna get boring real fast."

[Connection Lost]

I have no patience for an author's note. Deal with it. ^.^