Warning! I should probably warn that there will be a fair bit of swearing. When I say fair, I mean a lot. This is me after all guys. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course.

Note from Sassy: And now for a ridiculously overdue apology from our sponsors; I am so sorry that this chapter has taken me so long to get out there! The truth is that I've been around to write very much recently, due to some shit experiences that ended in me having to put down my beloved pet cat who used to sit by my chair as I wrote. My old laptop finally gave up the ghost too, so I lost the first draft of this chapter along with that. :/ Either way, this chapter has taken way longer than I ever wanted it to, but at the same time I don't like posting until I'm happy, so I hope you will all forgive my severe lateness here. As always, love and admiration goes out to all you lovely people who reviewed chapter 20, as well as my delectable beta and muse MisMot, because she's just fucking amazing. As for this chapter, it's dedicated to my very special friend UrgentOrange. She knows why. :)

UrgentOrange: I love how you say that your review is going to be crap and then it turns out to be my favourite one ever. As always, I'm so glad that you picked out some bits of dialogue that you liked, it makes me blush like mad. I have to admit that Seven Troop might have influenced me with the whole 'Price going on the circuit' thing. I hope this chapter manages to distract you a little anyways. :)

WHS72: Thank you! The MW2 plot scares me shitless, so I really appreciate that. :) Also, I love that Chris Young song, the lyrics are just perfect. Thanks so much for sharing it with me. :D

MisMot: Fuck yeah rugby indeed. ;) See, I listen. I won't ramble here anyways since I think that we've covered everything on skype. All I will say is that the shitstorm of the actual game plot is drawing close, and I'm scared enough to admit that I'll be bugging you a lot with it if you don't mind. ;)

xGhostxStealth: I quite like the idea of a chapter being a mind fuck, so thanks for that one. ;) But seriously, thank you so much. I'm so glad that you're still enjoying this tangled web of relationships! :)

Tar Tar Icing: I decided that I should answer both of your reviews at the same time. :) First off thank you for your kind words, I'm really pleased that you like Lara's character and her dynamic with the others. I know that OCs are a little infamous in this fandom, so I'm so flattered that you like mine. :)

Delta1689: Thank you so much. :D As for the Soap/Bones, there had to be a little hiatus while I got other scenes out of the way, but rest assured there'll be no shortage of those scenes in the future. :)

SayoriShii: I'm so flattered that you took the time to review in that case, thank you! I really don't know what to say other than that, since you were so complimentary about CITS, but I'm so glad that you're enjoying reading this over your summer. :D I hope you continue to enjoy where the story goes. :)

jolineloveszombie: I wanted the reader to be able to determine for themselves how long Riley had been stood listening to Soap and Lara, so that one is totally up to you, but either way it can't have been pleasant. As always though, a huge thank you from me. I'm honoured that Lara's flaws make her more likeable in your eyes. :)

Ordnance: Thank you so very much for the review. I'm so flattered by everything you said! I'm so glad that you like my writing style especially, because I know that it doesn't suit everyone, but that fact that you think that the relationships in CITS are natural is incredible. Thank you. :)

panpanpeppermint: I think that it would probably take a miracle to super glue Bones and Ghost back together. But thank you. I'm glad that you liked the emotions in chapter 20. And of course of that very evil swearing. :)

crazychi: Thank you for taking the time to review, really. For you to refer to CITS as a 'gem' is such a compliment. :D I know that my Ghost is a lot darker than a lot of people write him, but I'm glad that you still find him intriguing and interesting. And I will definitely try my hardest to finish this story. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter.

dryskim: That's definitely a good way of describing what happened. ;) I see what you mean about Ghost being an antagonist, and I think you're probably very right there. Thank you for the review. :)

one of the lost: Ok, so I'm replying to both your replies at once, but first, a huge thank you from me. I love being able to explore video game characters because giving them personalities can sometimes be really challenging, so I'm really glad that you think that I'm pulling it off ok! As for how you've described Lara, you're definitely right. Although she's never been in the habit of sleeping with her fellow soldiers before, she's certainly screwed herself over doing it this time. But then again if she hadn't I wouldn't have had much to write about. :P Thanks again. :)

Azalyes: Thank you very much! :) I feel really honoured after that review, and I'm just glad that you're enjoying the story so far. Sorry the updates taken me so long too.

ennyl . rebma : Thank you! I know that phone's aren't the easiest things to read on, so I'm taking that as a real compliment. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

Squinty: Argh, I'm sorry this has taken me so long, really! That being said, thanks for the review and motivation. I hope that you enjoy this chapter. :)

spreethis: Thank you, especially for saying that you like the fact that my chapters are long haha. :D As for what I'm going to do with the plot, well, I guess I'll keep that under wraps for now. I hope that you enjoy this chapter though. :)

"Kilo Six-One, the primary exfil point is compromised! We're en route to the backup LZ using enemy transport! Meet us there, over!"

When a volley of bullets felt as though they'd shot straight past his right ear, MacTavish's thumb instinctively pushed against the snowmobile's throttle, his knuckle turning white from the added pressure.

The jolt of the machine beneath him was undeniable. Its speed steadily increased, the surrounding trees and snow drifts blazing through his peripheral vision. The muscles in his forearms tightened along with his grip, his arms taking the strain as the machine constantly threatened to veer off out of control. Another volley of gunfire and MacTavish adjusted his body position, hunching down into the machine in the hopes that it might increase his speed. Behind him he heard more machine gun fire, although this time it was more distant, aimed at Roach who he hoped to god was still following him closely.

"Don't slow down! Keep moving or you're dead! Go! Go! Go!" MacTavish felt as though he was yelling into thin air, unable to turn around and look over his shoulder at Roach for fear that he'd lose control himself. Instead, Soap kept his eyes firmly forward, steeling himself as his snowmobile lurched over a dip, crashing down onto the snowy embankment of an iced over lake. A scattering of armed men on foot attempted to fire on him and MacTavish dared raise his G18, firing in short inaccurate bursts that did little but buy him a small amount of time. Almost immediately the harsh Russian shouting faded behind him and he veered right, the snowmobile skidding as itslid onto the ice of the lake. There was the unmistakeable beating of helicopter blades above him and instinctively Soap weaved, instantly regretting the action when the snowmobile jerked beneath his thighs, the steering unsteady and threatening. With what felt like every inch of strength in his body, Soap managed to pull the machine back on course, just managing to skirt around the barren body of a long felled tree. There was no time to breathe any sigh of relief however with more bullets sounding behind him, soon followed by a distinct, ominous explosion.

"Roach! Roach, talk to me, mate!" It took all the restraint MacTavish possessed to stop him from looking back, his sudden grip on the snowmobile causing his fingers to feel numb.

"I'm OK, but we've got three plus tangos on our six!"

"Keep moving, we'll outrun them over the ridge!" MacTavish hit the obstacle first, his body jumping out of its seat from the impact as the snowmobile clattered back down onto the snow. There was another similar crash behind him, presumably Roach and MacTavish sped forwards down the steep slope, the adrenaline now channelling through his system the only thing that prevented panic from settling in his stomach. At speed the slope felt almost vertical, Soap's entire body shaking from both exertion and anticipation as he tried to hold his snowmobile steady and gain the maximum amount of momentum possible.

"Bravo Six, we're at bingo fuel. What's your status, over?"

"Kilo Six-One, we're taking heavy fire but we're almost there! Standby!" MacTavish inwardly cursed, his breath hitching when he had to ease off his throttle to allow him to loop past a large tree. It stood wider than he'd allowed for and a thin branch managed to whip across his face, the needles biting into his skin and ripping across his cheek. MacTavish barely felt a thing, only just aware of the slight warmth as his blood oozed from the fresh cut, greeted by the iced air that felt as though it was pushing against his face. He pressed his thumb fully against the throttle again. "Roach! Pin the throttle! Keep going!"

"Copy that!"

The weightlessness that came with jumping the gap at the bottom of the slope lasted barely a second, but it was enough to have MacTavish's heart pounding beneath his rib cage. His entire body's aim was to hold the snowmobile straight, his muscles seizing up from the fear that even a single movement might throw him off course. The snowmobile engines groaned and whirred, MacTavish easing off the throttle as the he landed heavily on the ground, the steering wobbling perilously as he fought to regain control on the slippery terrain. Hauling the vehicle back onto a straight path, MacTavish was immediately back on the throttle, the increase in speed at least managing to quieten some of the insecurities that were biting at the back of his mind.

"There's the chopper! Let's go!" He was urging himself on now more than anything else, MacTavish hunching down against the snowmobile once more out of instinct. He set his jaw, the chopper's proximity only serving to heighten his feeling of vulnerability. The end might have been in sight, but that didn't mean that they were out of the woods yet.

"Bravo Six we have you on visual. Get your asses on board, we're running on fumes here!

"Copy that, Kilo-Six One!" MacTavish found himself yelling, finally allowing the snowmobile to slow up so that he could aim for the ramp that was lowered from the helicopter before his very eyes. He held his arms steady, keeping his focus on the ramp and very little else. In his ears he could already hear Roach's triumphant whoops across their comms but MacTavish blotted them out, not able to tell himself that the mission was over until he was finally on board that chopper.

"Okay, they've got the ACS! We're outta here!" The crew chief yelled out as soon as they were on board, the ramp automatically closing as they began to gain altitude. Darkness slowly began to creep in around them and Soap released the breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding, his fingers loosening their vice-like grip on the snowmobile handlebars. For what felt like the first time in an age, MacTavish was finally able to turn around and face his exhausted partner, Roach pulling off his goggles and giving him a large, exhilarated grin.

"Now that was a fucking scenic route..."

Hours later, they were being packed into the cabin of a C-17 manned by a Shadow Company crew. Soap recognised a couple of the guys from their flight out to Kazakhstan almost a week before, but he didn't particularly acknowledge any of the men, simple nodding to them as he took his place on the aircraft. Despite them all receiving direct orders from the same CO, the truth was that neither the 141 nor Shadow Company shared any real affinity towards each other, and as a result camaraderie between the two was hard to come by. In truth, both factions probably saw the other as competition.

Although boarding their exfil helicopter had been a huge relief, MacTavish hadn't felt truly at peace until they were back at their FOB and could rendezvous with Toad and Archer. The sniper team had been covering their movements through the mountains, providing long range sniper support on their approach to the base, and as a result they had had a separate, less dramatic exfil. Only when the four of them were reunited at the FOB did Soap truly allow himself to believe that the mission had been a success. After all, his team was intact, the ACS had been recovered and for all intents and purposes it was as if it had never fallen into Russian hands in the first place.

Now, they were on their way back to the 141's base, the four of them spread out within the vast cabin of the C-17. It had struck MacTavish as insane that such a small patrol would be transported back within such a large aircraft, but in reality none of them were complaining, each of the men glad of the bounty of personal space. Before take off and amongst the hum of the engines they had already begun their preparations, each of them pulling their hammocks from their Bergens and pinning them up to the cabin walls. They were all well used to long, tedious plane journeys and as a result they'd learnt that the key to a successful flight was a good dose of Zaleplon, their sleeping pill of choice. The idea was to pop the pill just after take off, practically guaranteeing them a period of comfortable unconsciousness which in theory would last the duration of their journey home. MacTavish of course, was the exception. There was something about pills that always put him on edge, and as a result he would always try and sleep naturally before he resorted to the little white tablet sitting in his back pocket.

A couple of hours into their journey, the heavy breathing that encompassed the cabin suggested that the drug had worked for the others. The lights were low and dim, the bodies of his squad reduced to shadows and silhouettes within the gloom. Across the cabin from him were Toad and Archer, their hammocks still close enough for them to talk and swap cigarettes yet far enough apart to allow for a good deal of personal space. On Soap's side of the cabin was Roach, the sergeant one the few men who was actually able to sleep upright, his seat kicked back and his hands knotted across his chest. He was grunting softly in his sleep, something that would have driven the rest of the men insane if they hadn't all been so exhausted in the first place.

MacTavish himself was dozing. The soft turbulence of the plane kept forcing him awake but he fought to keep his eyes closed, wriggling in his hammock in an eternal struggle to get comfortable. The Zaleplon in his pocket suddenly feeling very attractive, Soap screwed his eyes closed tighter, attempting to blank his mind in the process. It didn't work, and the action caused the cut across his right cheek to burn through his skin, a painful reminder of their operation only hours before.

Adrenaline was a funny thing. At the time, Soap had barely registered any pain, his mind totally focused on their exfil and little else. It was only when they were back at the helicopter, his body trembling and his knees weak that Soap had begun to feel all the cuts, bruises and knocks from the mission, the dissipating hormone leaving his muscles with an uncomfortable dose of reality. It was natural, a feeling that was unpleasant and yet some how satisfying, the adrenaline rush always worth the following come down. Hell, sometimes the chemical itself was the one thing that got Soap through some of the shit that they saw and experienced.

But now, lying in the dark of the plane's cabin, Soap was suddenly filled with another feeling that he wasn't quite so used to. Fear. And as the events of that day flashed in front of his mind's eye, MacTavish was unable to stop the emotion from growing in intensity.

It wasn't as though he'd never stared down a gun before. It wasn't something that you got used to, but it was something that always felt worse in retrospect. Soap wasn't scared to die. Sure, he didn't plan on it happening any time soon, but he was resigned to it, well used to the idea that a bullet would be what ended his life. In practice, waiting for that bullet to come had never been as haunting as he'd imagined it to be, that morning on the Russian base no different. At first his body had been acting on pure instinct, his old friend adrenaline blocking out any trace of fear from his mind. MacTavish had suddenly been well and truly powerless, out of control, an alien feeling that seemed to have a strangely calming effect. There'd been no 'what ifs', no silent regrets or hopeless thoughts, only silence as he took in what might have been his last breath, waiting for that shot to be fired and for the darkness to come.

This time he'd been lucky. The C4 that Roach had planted as their plan B had saved his life and as a result MacTavish was returning to their base in one piece. And yet, as his mind began to whir out of control, Soap couldn't stop his thoughts from moving to places that he simply didn't want them to go to, the Captain steadily growing more frightened with every image that flashed across his brain. It was like someone had opened the flood gates, all of the emotions that he should have felt hours ago beginning to hit him full on, terrifying thoughts forcing their way to the foreground before he had the chance to restrain them.

He was back in the hangar, his arms high in the air, a stream of bullets tearing through his torso. Soap's heart jumped involuntarily in his ribcage as the image flickered across his mind's eye and he blinked hard, as though the act alone might somehow push it from thought. In reality what came next was a flurry of even darker thoughts, scenarios that he never dared let himself play out in free fall now before his very eyes. His parents, stood mournfully as they opened the yellow letter that they'd been dreading for over eleven years. His sister, thick black tears staining her cheeks as she read some god awful poem that she knew he'd hate. His men, gathered around his grave with a solitary bottle of whisky. And Lara, grimly determined to bite back her own tears as Roach pulled her into a comforting embrace.

Instantly, Soap's eyes flew open. His pulse had quickened and he instinctively took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly in an effort to calm down. He cursed himself instantly, suddenly feeling so ashamed that in the few minutes where he'd lowered his guard he'd managed to let every single one of his fears and insecurities tumble into view. Everything he'd seen, he secretly dreaded, scenarios that would happily haunt his sleep if he let them. It was rare, but whenever those fears took hold, usually when he was alone in the depths of night, Soap could only ever be crippled by them.

Dying was something that he'd accepted, dying on the job, even more so. But leaving behind the people he loved? That was what his nightmares were made of.

As Lara aimed another, less than perfect punch into Riley's jaw, she felt her entire right arm reverberate from the contact.

In reality, she was hitting a punching bag, her gloved hands bouncing off the thick leather with increasing determination. Riley himself was elsewhere, probably down at the firing range laying into the targets with something automatic. McCoy was determined not to give a shit either way.

Except she did. It had been five days since they'd come to blows in the rec room and over that time Lara had felt increasingly worse about their entire situation. She'd wanted to leave it a few days for them both to cool off before even approaching Ghost, but the truth was that no matter how hard she tried, Riley was understandably in no mood to talk. He'd been in the gym that morning when she arrived to train, instantly packing up his gear as soon as he'd even laid eyes on her. It wasn't as though he was ceding ground as he purposefully strode out of the room, but the disgusted way he looked at her had spoken volumes. To put it bluntly, Simon Riley just didn't want to be breathing the same air as her if he could help it.

Lara didn't know what felt worse. The fact that she'd been so painfully oblivious for so long or the fact that Ghost wasn't going to give her chance to even try and rectify her mistakes.

"Shit, Bones." A sudden voice startled her and Lara swung wildly, her right hand glancing off the edge of the punching bag and causing it to swing out to the side. A pair of hands moved out from her left to hold it still, quickly followed by the smiling face of Roach, the sergeant laughing as Lara fought to catch her breath. "That wasn't me you were pummelling there, right?"

"Gary..." She wasn't a huge fan of public displays of affection and so McCoy instead opted for a quick squeeze of his left arm, inwardly hoping that the smile that suddenly sprang out across her features would say the rest for her. She grinned, giving him a quick visual once over. "You're shorter than I remember."

"Fuck you." Roach's face was filled with mock offence as he straightened up, pushing out his chest in the process. "I'm still taller than you."

"With a bigger beard too." Lara smirked, reaching up and angling his jaw towards her for a closer look. He wasn't exactly heavily bearded, but the long stubble formed a prominent shadow across his jawline, coarse beneath her fingers. "What's this? Trying to give Royce a run for his money or something?"

"Very funny. I've been back on base for about an hour and I chose catching up with you over shaving, OK?"

"I'm flattered." Lara gave him a quick smile. "You found the time to shower though, that's a small mercy at least."

"I wouldn't wish the alternative on anyone, even you."

"Clearly." Lara laughed. "But, you're all OK?"

"You'd know if I wasn't, right?" Roach smirked in return. "I'm totally fine. A few bruises but nothing to bitch about."

"Damn. And here's me looking forward to having something else to medicate aside from Meat's hangovers."

"Sorry for the disappointment."

"I think I can just about handle it." Lara smiled, resting her hands on her hips. "Besides, I missed you."

"Yeah well, I might have missed you too. Five days with Toad and I was almost ready to shoot him myself."

"Yeah, yeah. You two are like brothers and you know it." Bones shook her head mockingly. "But I appreciate the sentiment all the same."

"It's good to be back anyway." He nodded towards the punching bag. "And it looks like 141 life didn't slow down without me either."

"How do you mean?"

"You and the bag were going at it. Whose ass were you kicking this time?" Roach's knowing look said it all, the sergeant folding his arms across his chest slowly as though it further proved his point. When McCoy replied with a raised eyebrow he laughed, glancing around the room quickly. "What? Haven't we made enough small talk for me to ask the good stuff yet?"

"Who said that I was kicking anyone's arse?"

"I did. Face it, Bones. I've seen you box three times the entire time you've been here, usually when Meat's been acting like a little bitch. So who's got you pissed this time, huh?"

"I fucking hate you."

"See? I'm so right." He laughed triumphantly. "Come on, what have I missed?"

"I don't think right now's the time to talk about it."

"Why?" Gary looked over his shoulder, indicating to where Rook and Scarecrow were lifting weights at the far end of the room. "No one's listening."

"That's not the point. I'm not going into personal shit in the gym, Gary."

"So it is about Riley then?"

"What?" Lara practically spluttered. "How did you-"

"Credit it me with some intelligence, Bones. Even I remember what we talked about before I left." Roach shook his head, moving around to the other side of the punching bag. "You told him, didn't you?"

"Roach..."

"Didn't you?" He persisted, tapping the punching bag with his fingers as an incentive. Lara caught the hint, throwing a punch into the leather whilst he stopped it from swinging backwards.

"You were right." She replied after a moment, biting her lip as she threw another two punches at the bag. McCoy hissed, taking in a hurried breath before speaking again. "I didn't realise just how deep I'd gotten."

"Did he?"

"I don't know. He said that he knew what it was from the start..." She paused, concentrating as she threw another three punches. "But I told him that he was a mistake..." She lashed out sharply this time, the pain in her wrist as the punch hit home feeling deserved. "I shouldn't have said that. I certainly didn't mean to. I was angry, I wasn't exactly thinking straight, you know?"

"And was he? A mistake I mean." Roach was looking at her with an intense expression that he'd mastered by now.

"No. He wasn't." In a flurry of movement, Lara sent another set of punches flying into the bag, her forearms aching with every jab and uppercut. She kept going until she felt her heart quicken in her chest, a cold film of sweat dampening her brow as she slowed her movements, holding onto the punching bag for support while she regained her breath. When she met Roach's eyes again her voice was softer, defeated. "I care about Riley... one hell of a lot. I have for some time now."

"Do you love him?"

"No." Pulling off one of her gloves with her teeth, Lara ran a bare hand across the top of her head. "We're too different for that. We always were. But love him or not..." She sighed, her shoulders hunching forwards. "I never meant to hurt him like this. I didn't think that I could."

"Riley's a tough guy, it's not like he's not going to bounce back from this."

"No, but the point is that he shouldn't have to." Lara shook her head. "It was me who always tried for more, me who always pushed for him to open up. Not because I was trying to save him... but..." She paused, struggling for the right words. "... Because I wanted to show him that he didn't need saving. He's a good man. I just wanted him to see what I was starting to see. I didn't even notice the bigger picture of what I was doing." She knocked her head against the punching bag. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"Not stupid." Roach sighed, resting a hand on her back so that she'd look up at him. "Oblivious to the point of hurtful, maybe. But not stupid." He gave her a soft smile. "You had the best of intentions. You didn't go into this just to use him, right?"

"I guess we both went into it using each other." Lara shrugged weakly. "But it didn't stay like that for long."

"Then you can't be the only one to blame. I'm not saying that you're all pure and innocent in this but..." He hesitated. "You could have pushed all you wanted, but Riley still had to physically let you in somehow, right? If he knew what it was from the start like he said then, well, I guess he can't blame you entirely for letting things get out of control."

"I appreciate that." Lara nodded slowly. "But there's no quick fix for this. I'm the guilty party here, Gary, however we spin it. Just believe me on that one at least."

"Then try and learn from it. Find something positive out of all this."

"I'm totally giving up on Army boys, does that count?" Lara laughed weakly, desperately attempting to make the tempo of the conversation upbeat again. She could tell that Roach wasn't convinced by the look on his face, but he laughed out of politeness, nodding quickly.

"Maybe that's a good place to start."

"At this rate I might just give up on men altogether." She went on to grin. "I was at school with some very hot girls you know..."

"Now you're just toying with me." Roach smirked, pulling away from the punching bag and inclining his head towards the gym door. "How about we continue this later when you aren't sweating and I've not got this fungus growing on my face? Hopefully after a few beers too."

"Rec room?"

"Rec room." Gary grinned. "Toad was talking about celebrating later tonight. I think he's onto something there."

"Well count me in. A week without you boys and my alcohol consumption practically stops." Lara smiled, gathering up her things and heading for the door with him. "I won't mind standing next to you when you look half decent again either." She just about managed to dodge Roach's attempt to nudge her into the gym door frame.

"Oh yeah? So what's your excuse?"

Roach being back on the base didn't stop Riley from being livid with her, nor did it put an end to the guilt that was still deeply manifested within Lara's gut. And yet the sergeant's teasing had still managed to improve McCoy's mood ten fold. After all, no matter how tense base life might feel, it was comforting to know that there were some things within the 141 that would never really change.

His office might have been one of the furthest from the rec room but even that didn't stop the rumble of distant music from reaching MacTavish. The bass practically vibrated through the walls, accompanied by an almost tinny sounding repetitive kick-snare rhythm that reminded Soap of the less than desirable club music of his adolescence.

The Captain allowed himself a small smile. He could see the scene in the rec room as though he was stood amongst it, his men split into their usual friendship groups as they drunk themselves into far less lucid states. From the style of music that was playing MacTavish could tell that Royce was DJing, something that Toad would no doubt be bitching about over the rim of a bottle of vodka to anyone stupid enough to listen.

In reality, Soap should have been in there along side his men, loud conversations and even louder music just what he needed to blot out his less than peaceful night on board the C-17. And yet, Soap stayed in his office, because that way there was no danger of him becoming lost in his thoughts like he had been on Meat's birthday. More importantly, there was no chance of anyone noticing, and therefore Soap was able to avoid any awkward questions that he quite frankly just didn't feel like answering.

Or at least, that was the theory.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" The small sound from outside his office door shook Soap out of his current train of thought and he automatically straightened up in his seat, just about managing to stop his voice from turning into a wearied groan as he answered.

At first there was no reply, until the door slowly creaked open. Soap looked on confused as Lara backed into the room cautiously, the Captain instinctively raising an eyebrow even though she blatantly couldn't see him. "Um, McCoy?"

"I brought tea." The medic said quickly, inching around so that he could see the two mugs she was gripping in both her hands. Extreme concentration filling her features, McCoy kicked the door shut behind her before moving forwards and depositing the mugs onto his desk carefully. When she finally did look up at him her smile was warm and at ease. "I might have slipped some whisky in them too. For medicinal purposes only of course."

"Of course." Soap fought hard to stop a smile playing out across his features, clearing his throat for lack of anything better to do. He glanced at Lara quickly, noticing a Manila folder tucked under her right arm and nodding to it. "What's the file?"

"Something a little more professional." Bones laid the folder down onto the table in front of him, tapping at it idly. "Just some reports for Shepherd. I thought that you might be able to take a look at them and tell me if I'm barking up the wrong tree anywhere."

MacTavish merely laughed in response, choosing to sip at his tea rather than reply properly. Lara McCoy had many faults, but they both knew that her paperwork was not one of them and therefore she had little need of a second opinion from him or anyone else. In all honesty, Soap didn't mind. Though transparent, the act of her coming to see him was surprisingly welcome. If there were going to be questions, then MacTavish decided that he'd rather they be from McCoy than anyone else.

"That's a nasty cut." They'd slipped into a comfortable silence as they sipped at their drinks, until Lara's voice spoke out thoughtfully. She nodded to Soap's face, watching him over the top of her mug.

"I've had worse."

"Have you had it seen to?"

"Someone looked at it back at the FOB, that's good enough for me."

"Good enough for you maybe, but not for me." The medic shook her head decisively. "I'd rather see for myself, just to be sure."

"Bones..."

"I wasn't really asking, sir." Lara sighed, putting her tea down and moving towards to the other side of his desk. She stood over him expectantly, tutting when she noticed his disapproving look. "You might be Captain, but your injuries are just as much my responsibility as anyone else's."

"It's not even an injury."

"Quiet..." Lara hissed, gently taking his face in her hands and tilting it into the light. "I can't look at you properly if you're whining."

There was an awkward pause as Lara held his face, her thumbs angling the cut towards her eyes. The split skin stung instantly from the action but Soap was careful not to let it register on his face, keeping his features blank as she stared down intently at him. The way she'd tilted his head made it difficult for him to avoid her eyes and instead MacTavish found himself watching them idly, noting how they darted from side to side as she stared into his cut.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating anyway?" Lara asked abruptly, letting go of his face . She leant back against his desk, folding her arms loosely across her chest. "Everyone else is busy living it up in the rec room, you know." She laughed slightly as another song began, the music drifting into Soap's room just as prominently as the track before it. "You can bloody well hear them from all the way down here."

"I'm too tired." Soap lied. "How bad is it in there?"

"Pretty rowdy." McCoy shrugged. "Or I'm not drunk enough to stomach it yet... one of the two."

"Ah... So it is one of those celebrations then."

"Toad was behind it all, so I guess we shouldn't be too surprised. He did have some help from Archer, but I think that he's just as bad deep down."

"Most likely. But let them drink anyway. They all bloody deserve it."

"Some major celebrating to be done if you ask me." Lara nodded "The op was a success after all, right?"

"How did you know?"

"After you checked in at your FOB, Riley kind of announced it in the rec room. He didn't tell us any of the gory details of course, just that you'd done the job and were all still live and kicking." He watched as Lara's hand graduated up into her hair, messing through it awkwardly. There was something about how she'd mentioned the lieutenant's name that struck him as out of the ordinary.

"I'm sure you were all worried sick." MacTavish said quickly, deciding to divert the conversation away from Ghost.

"You know as well as I do that we usually operate on 'no news is good news'. But yeah, it's hard to settle when your friends are out there without you."

"Now you know why I was so keen to get back out into the field." Soap swallowed, forcing a smile, remembering the awkward conversation that had led to Lara clearing him for duty. He decided that he didn't like that topic either. "So, what's the diagnosis? Am I still fit for duty?"

"Very funny." Lara rolled her eyes. "The cut's pretty deep, but it's clean at least so I'm not going to mess with it. Unless you have any other injuries you're keeping quiet about I'd say that you'll live."

"I'm fine." MacTavish shrugged, taking another sip of his tea and momentarily letting himself speak without check. "We got off lightly considering."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Typically, Lara was straight onto him.

"It doesn't mean anything, just that it could have been one hell of a lot worse."

"You make it sound as if it could have been one hell of a lot better too." She paused, giving him a searching look that burned with intensity. "What is it that you're not telling me?"

"It's nothing."

"It's something." Her gaze never faltered. "Otherwise it wouldn't be getting to you."

"You're always pushing, aren't you, Bones?" Soap watched as McCoy flinched from his words, her eyes suddenly unable to meet his head on.

"So I've been told, but it's always with the best of intentions." She'd attempted to laugh and shrug it off, but the look on her face didn't fool him for a second. She bit her lip, obviously hesitant as she continued to avoid his gaze. When her eyes finally did return to his they were filled with that same, recognisable determination from before. "So humour me. What's wrong?"

"It's just something stupid."

"These things usually are, in my experience at least." McCoy cocked her head to one side. "Lay it on me. I'm good with stupid."

"It's lucky that someone is." MacTavish muttered thoughtfully. Still weighing up just how much he wanted to reveal, he sipped at his tea to buy himself valuable time to think. "I guess it's guilt mostly."

"Guilt?"

"I stared down an execution today. I was caught by a group of soldiers, all ready to shoot me down no sooner than look at me." Soap didn't even stop to worry about how nonchalantly those words had left his mouth. "I knew that I had Roach as back up, but like anything it could have all gone severely tits up." He sipped at his tea again, his words suddenly feeling uncomfortable within his throat. "Now all I can bloody think about is what if they had fired? What if I'd died out there?"

"I can't say that I've ever been in a situation like that." Lara said slowly, obviously taking time over her response. "I've had guns pointed at me, sure." Her brow furrowed as she hesitated. "But you didn't die out there. You're here, everything went to plan and you all made it out of there alive, right?"

"And next time I might not be so lucky." He shook his head. "And that's what gets me. The sodding guilt of it all."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"When I joined the army, I was just a kid. I thought it'd set me apart from my friends, make me worth something, you know?" Soap didn't wait for an answer. "I never thought about what I might be asked to do, the places I'd go or the things I'd see. I knew that it was dangerous, but back then I thought I was bloody indestructible." He sighed, his head hanging back as he looked upwards towards the ceiling as though it might give him some kind of guidance. "I never once thought about what it'd do to the people who cared about me. My family, my girlfriend, I just figured that they'd have to put up with it and be proud of me."

"So you feel bad for putting them through the worry?"

"It's more than that. Today I could have died. For me it would have been game over, a blank screen. But for my parents? They'd have lost their oldest son, Sara would have lost her big brother." He shook his head. "I never knowingly set out to destroy my family like that."

"You said so yourself though." Lara replied softly, leaning back further on his desk. "You were just a kid. You didn't do this knowing what it might do to your family."

"Who would?"

"I would." Lara let out a long exhale, running her hand through her hair again, the action clearly more anxious this time. "My dad was in the forces, a rifleman. I grew up not knowing where he was half the time, forced to just sit and watch my mum and grandparents be sick with worry. Then what do I do? Finish up with medical school and join up myself." She let out a soft, almost pitiful laugh. "I knew what I was doing when I signed up for Sandhurst because I'd been through it all myself before. But I was too stubborn not to join up back then and I'm too stubborn to quit now. That is selfish."

"You must have really wanted this?"

"I did. I do." She rolled her shoulders. "I joined the army for a lot of reasons, not all of them the right ones. I don't think that I'd fit anywhere else. Not anymore at least." McCoy paused, watching him closely. "But that wasn't really my point."

"Then what was?"

"You're looking back on all this like it was a selfish decision. Hindsight can be a wonderful thing, but it can also be a real pain in the arse. Besides..." She gave him a soft smile. "You're forgetting all the selfless parts of being a soldier. We've all made sacrifices to be here, chasing down the rubbish that society shits out."

"And that's enough for you, is it?"

"It has to be. If we didn't all believe in what we're doing here then none of us would be here in the first place, right?" She laughed uneasily. "Sure, there's something about the adrenaline rush of a contact and the pride of knowing that you're well and truly elite, but we both know that this job throws a lot of shit in our direction too."

"You're telling me."

"The point is, you wouldn't have stuck around this long if you didn't think it was worth it."

"I guess you're right there." Soap shrugged. "It's funny. I swear half of the time these conversations you and I have are meant to be the other way around. Isn't the war hardened Captain supposed to be the one who preaches to his squad about all of this bollocks?"

"Maybe, but personally I like to think that these discussions of ours are between two human beings, rather than two ranks." Lara smiled quickly, her cheeks ever so slightly flushed. "And the way I see it, you're the war hardened Captain who's under so much pressure that it's understandable for you to buckle a little sometimes. As for me, I guess I'm just a naïve soldier who still thinks that she can change the world. We see things differently, that's all. I'd be worried if we didn't."

"You talk a lot of sense though."

"To other people, sure. Sadly, I find it damn near impossible to follow my own advice." A discontented sigh left Lara's lips and this time Soap found it impossible to ignore, his eyebrows creasing as he looked at her intently.

"Have I missed something?"

"Sorry?"

"Something seems to be bothering you too." MacTavish worried his bottom lip, unsure as to whether or not he should continue. In the end he decided not to push the topic overly. "If you need to vent then I think it's about time I listened to you for a change."

"I'm fine." McCoy shook her head a little too quickly to be genuine. "Same as always, anyway."

"You're a terrible liar." MacTavish leant forward in his seat, knotting his fingers together across his lap. "I might be famous for over analysing, but I know you, Bones. At least credit me with realising when something's wrong."

"I suppose." Lara gave him a near hopeless look, pushing off from his desk and edging around it, only speaking when her back was turned. "I guess you could say that I'm feeling guilty too."

"Do you... want to talk about it?" The Captain hesitated. The thought hardly appealed to him but there was no denying his desire to be there for Lara, however unnatural it might feel at the time.

"To be brutally honest?" McCoy let out a strained laugh. "I really don't. I feel like all I've done recently is talk and think about this..." She held her arms out at her sides, the movement small as though her limbs were weighed down with lead. "I appreciate the offer, but this is something that I've got to carry on my own."

"Fair enough." MacTavish nodded, standing slowly from his seat. He maintained eye contact with her, almost waiting for her to change her mind. When she remained silent he gave her a quick smile, although his voice was nothing but serious. "Just don't blame yourself too much. Remember what you told me; hindsight can be a real bitch."

"I told you, me and my own advice don't mix, however enlightened it might be." She might still have been subdued, but at least now there was a little more light in Lara's features, however forced.

"Then let's pretend that was one of my pearls of wisdom, that way you might actually listen for a change." MacTavish laughed, reaching down for his now cold tea. He threw back the remnants, holding back a shudder as the cold liquid slipped down his throat. Lara followed his lead, either as a feeble attempt to break the tension in the room or because she didn't want to waste any of her prized whisky.

"I should probably go." She nervously cleared her throat. "Maybe an early night will do me good."

"Maybe it would." Soap nodded slowly, a smirk pushing across his face whether he wanted it to or not. "Or maybe you should come back to the rec room with me. We're missing the celebrations as it is."

"I thought you were too tired?"

"I changed my mind. I lock myself in this office too much these days, so I think it's about time I got my arse into gear. What do you say? Shall we both vow to stop being miserable bastards? At least for tonight?"

"I guess we could try." Lara's face brightened again. "That might be one bit of advice I might actually be able to take."

Six thousand miles away, in a time zone that was eleven hours ahead, an airport in Moscow had become a killing ground. Ironically, out of all of the bullets and blood that had already been shed, a single, final gunshot was to be the most influential of them all.

"That was no message... This is a message."

The bullet tore through Joseph Allen's chest, causing him to fall back instantly. His body tumbled like a rag doll, the back of his head bouncing off hard concrete. The pain from the blow went unnoticed, lost amongst the searing agony that now burned through the left side of his chest. A sticky wetness began to seep through the back of his shirt and dress jacket, white turning crimson before his eyes as Allen's frantic hands fumbled at his chest.

Alexei Borodin had been a monster, he'd had to have been in order to allow Allen to take part in such a senseless massacre. Borodin was fiercely loyal to his cause and didn't fear the death of himself or of others. But now, none of that mattered. As soon as that bullet had struck, Alexei Borodin has faded back into the phantom that he was, leaving young, naïve and idealistic Joseph Allen bleeding out in his place. And unlike his Russian façade, Joseph Allen was terrified of dying.

His fingers pressed against the wound and Allen let out a sharp hiss, his breath more of a gurgle now at the back of his throat. Around him, masked soldiers yelled and screamed, their voices frighteningly distant even as they ran towards him. In a feeble gesture, Allen reached out with his right hand, although in reality all he could muster was a pathetic twitch of his fingers. One of the soldiers bent down on one knee, gesturing at him wildly and yelling in Russian that Allen didn't even bother listening to. The soldier in black stood quickly and Allen tried to move his hand again, this time his fingers barely even responding. Suddenly it didn't matter who these men were or the fact that they regarded him as a terrorist. All there was was the overwhelming desire to be with someone, anyone at the end.

He was growing cold now, his limbs numb. Allen felt like all that was left was his core, his arms and legs dead appendages slung off of his body. The only saving grace was that there was no longer any pain, only a horrifying loss of sensation that was steadily moving upwards towards his neck and head.

The soldiers in black had disappeared now, satisfied that he was no longer a threat. Allen attempted to call out to them, to anybody who might hear, but all he was able to manage was a rasping breath that supplied him with little oxygen. He wheezed again, that hideous gurgling sound returning as he struggled, but it was no use, his chest barely even moving despite all his efforts. His vision was blurry and dim, the bright sunshine outside suddenly no longer present. The world around him was fading, draining of colour and light, a blank, dark curtain beginning to fall across his sight. Allen fought to keep his eyes open, only to realise that he no longer knew whether or not they were actually closed.

In life, Joseph Allen had many questions. Why a General like Shepherd had chosen him seemingly over a fast assault course score had baffled him, as had the reasons behind his initial training with Shadow Company rather than with the 141. Throughout his elevation, Allen had chosen to push these thoughts aside, deciding that his questions would be answered soon as they became relevant. Now, with his death Allen had been handed the final piece of the puzzle. The bullet that ended his life so suddenly had been planned from the very beginning, his execution the start of something new, something more. The career soldier who had dreamed of making a difference through his work had managed to accomplish just that.

The ambitious, twenty two year old that Allen had been may have faded away as his blood poured out across the concrete but who he was mattered little to the world's press. In the end it was to be what he was that would spark the beginnings of a bitter conflict that until then had only been the stuff of nightmares. A war that would see thousands more lose their lives for no just cause, just like Allen and the other victims of the airport massacre before them.

From now on, nothing would ever be the same again...

And now, MW2 is officially upon us, and it only took me 21 long chapters to get there. :P On a more serious note, again, I am so sorry for how long it's taken me to get this chapter to you! I've received some amazing reviews and a load of favourite notifications in my absence which have been so inspiring though, so thank you so much for your support! :)

-x-Sass-x-

CITS 21 was written to:

Stop and Stare (Gemini remix) – Fenech-Soler

Alive (feat. Kate Elsworth) – Dirty South & Thomas Gold

Lucid Truth – Blackmill

As Time Goes By – Blackmill (My official Allen's death scene theme)

Changed The Way You Kissed Me – Example (A new Ghost/Bones inspiration)

Compass – Jamie Lidell (A Soap/Bones inspiration)