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: So originally this chapter weighed in at a hefty 11, 078 words which I am going to say is the reason why it took me so long to write. So, after consulting my all powerful betas, I cut it in half which should mean that CITS 30 shouldn't be posted that much later than this one. I'm practically becoming a prolific author here, guys. :P But seriously, thank you so much to everyone who gives me their enduring support with this story, I know I don't get to update as often as I like but I WILL finish it. And also welcome to the new comers! I've been getting a lot of author alerts recently which I have to say does make me get my arse into gear and write some days. As always, an enormous amount of gratitude has to go to my beta extraordinaire MisMot,for always being there to correct my grammar and sympathise with me when I need her the most. And to UrgentOrange, who aside from giving me a shed load of medical expertise for this chapter helps more than she realises with her video pep talks. CITS 29 ladies, is dedicated to you both. :D

Also I have finally decided to listen to my beta and cut down on clutter in my chapters by responding to reviews in real time rather than at the start of my new chapters. She's been telling me for years to actually make use of some of this website's features haha. :P


Somehow, she'd imagined that he'd be taller.

The great John Price, a living legend for the SAS. A man who had been on more black ops than she could ever even hope to accomplish, a man who commanded almost immediate respect from hard to please men like Ghost and Archer. A man who's sole influence had shaped MacTavish into the leader that he had become. And there he was, standing a good three inches shorter than McCoy herself. It should have made her feel more confident, but in reality Bones felt even more terrified.

MacTavish had sent for her to come to the medical bay as soon as his debrief with Shepherd had finished. After another mind-bending walk through the labyrinthine ship corridors, Lara found herself in a small medical bay, with Price sitting at the end of the room half visible behind a curtain, two nurses fussing over him. In the foreground was MacTavish, leaning against a wall with his arms folded. He was still covered in ash and dust, his eyes closed as though in silent prayer. They snapped open when McCoy entered the room and he was striding to her side in a matter of seconds.

"Lara-" He wasn't Captain MacTavish anymore. He was John, his pale eyes as lost as she'd ever seen them, almost childlike in their vulnerability. They were pink and bloodshot, a sign of fatigue and stress.

"I heard…" There was little she could do to comfort him aside from reaching out with her right arm, her hand lightly squeezing his bicep. "It's really him?"

"As real as you and me. I thought I was seeing things but… he's right there, Lara."

"Do we even know how long he was in there?"

"No… But I keep thinking, what if it was all this time? I haven't seen him in months. What if…" He shook his head, his left hand running across his Mohawk quickly. "What if I could have bloody done something?"

"You did something. You looked for him, John. You tried… But if Makarov had his claws in him, you didn't have a hope in hell. We're lucky to even have him now."

"I know, I just…" He sighed, glancing over his shoulder to where Price seemed to be actively telling the nurses just where exactly to get off. They hovered unsure for a moment before packing up their things and leaving. Instead of commenting like she expected, Soap merely turned his attentions back to her. "Just look out for him, ok? I'd rather it was you then this lot." His request was little more than a weary breath.

"Done alright so far, haven't I?" She smiled, resisting the urge to touch him again. Instead she tried to watch Price in her peripheral vision as she spoke, ever aware that his head was turned in their direction. "What can you tell me about the debrief?"

"Not much. He was answering with the bare minimum, playing it all a bit stupid," he shrugged. "I don't know if it worked on Shepherd and Trojan, but he didn't fool me for a second. Either way, they sent him down here for a look over. Shepherd was very keen that you be the one in charge. I think he's trying to keep things within the team as much as possible."

"Understandable," Lara nodded softly, although the statement added another layer of pressure that she attempted to ignore. Pushing a weak smile across her face, she met Soap's gaze decisively. "Then let's meet the patient shall we?"

Even with Soap flanking her, Lara couldn't help but feel at least a little intimidated. She sucked in a deep breath, tried to remind herself that although daunting, this was the one side of her work where she should feel at her most comfortable. It was funny how easily she forgot that she was a doctor first and a soldier second thanks to the 141. Armed with this new found confidence she walked across to the other side of the room with MacTavish, her face the very image of relaxed. After all, Price might be a legend to many, but ultimately he was just a man to her.

And a rather short man at that.

"Price?" Soap's voice came out far less at ease than Lara had anticipated. "We need to get your checked out, mate."

"I'll live."

"And I don't doubt that for a second," The captain laughed a little too quickly. "But the sooner we have a bit of paper telling us all that, the better." He nodded to Lara at his side, Price's grey eyes suddenly homing in on her instead. "This is Bones. She'll be looking out for you."

"American?" Price quirked an eyebrow, his eyes giving her a quick once over, momentarily resting on the stethoscope that hung loosely around her neck. The measured, educated tone of his voice immediately made her feel under scrutiny.

"No, sir. British."

"McCoy is with the 141," Soap interjected. "She's our team medic."

"The nurses have already descended on me like bloody flies."

"With all due respect, I'm a doctor." Smiling quickly, McCoy reached for the chart attached to Price's bed, her eyes flicking across the various results. What was there appeared to at least be in order, his heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen saturation all falling into the correct ranges. However, you didn't need a medical qualification to see that this was a man who wasn't at full strength. He was thin, that much was apparent even with clothes covering the majority of his body, his shoulders more angular and less rounded than they should have been, his face gaunt and cheekbones just that little bit too visible for her liking. To top it all off, there was a pale and in places almost sallow quality to his skin. Although not out of place given his circumstances, there was no doubting the fact that Price's incarceration had taken a heavy physical toll on his body.

"What's the verdict?" Soap was by her side, standing that little bit closer than she was used to. Lara was unable to tell whether it was because he wanted to read the chart too or was just looking for a little reassurance. She assumed it was the former. The sound of his voice was oddly hopeful. MacTavish was no fool, he had eyes and there was no way in hell he could be seeing something other than what she was seeing in Price's condition. In reality, it was what she couldn't see that bothered Lara all the more. Given the nature of his imprisonment and even more so his silence on what had happened during that time, Price's body could have been playing host to a whole collection of other daemons. Tuberculosis, hepatitis, HIV… all were viral or bacterial infections that had the capacity to flourish within a Gulag such as the one they'd raided, each coming with its own long term complications.

But the blue eyes looking intently into hers didn't quite seem ready to hear all that. They were looking for a shred of hope, of optimism, of reassurance. She didn't have the heart to lie to him but at the same time she knew that she couldn't be one hundred percent honest either. Not when this was Price, a man who MacTavish seemed to rely on, even in his absence.

"I'd like to do some blood work, an X ray, and ultrasound where possible. A urine sample would help me put some crosses in a lot of boxes too. I'm going to have to do a physical exam too just to be thorough," She put on her most reassuring of voices, focusing her attention of Price rather than Soap this time. "If that's all alright with you, sir?"

"The nurses already tried that tack. I'd rather not be a pin cushion if it's all the same to you."

"Price…" MacTavish warned, his voice the epitome of waning patience.

"Soap?" Lara had never seen anyone put the Captain in his place quite like that. With a single stern word and a quirk of his eyebrow, MacTavish seemed to stop in his tracks, his mouth hanging open as though he felt he should continue. With Price now looking at the other man, Lara took advantage of the brief respite and allowed herself a split second to evaluate the man in front of her. He was harsher than she'd expected, his features constantly set in a stiff, verging on severe expression. His eyes in particular carried a strong 'I know better than you do' feel that wasn't worlds away from the same looks her dad had given her years ago.

By the way Soap was just letting the challenge slide; McCoy suspected that he was feeling the same kind of scrutiny.

"I guarantee that you won't be a pin cushion so long as you hold still…" Bones had been making jokes with patients throughout her career and she had no intention of stopping now, a soft smile pushing across her lips. She tried to ignore a look of what could quite easily have been disdain from Price and reached into a nearby cupboard for the necessary supplies. Either way, neither man gave her much to go on and the silence hung between them, practically tangible.

As soon as Price saw the needle, his jaw clenched. His entire body language spoke of a man who was desperately trying to maintain his physical composure. To a casual onlooker, the suddenly straight back and pursed lips would have appeared strong and determined. But to Lara, they spoke of nothing but a false front of masculine bravado.

"I'll be as quick as I can be," she spoke out on instinct, pulling on a pair of gloves. She brought the tourniquet up towards his arm and his bicep immediately flinched.

"I'm fine," his voice was beginning to sound like a mantra now. "I don't need-"

"What you need is to be able to leave this room, mate." Soap, who finally seemed to have found his testicles spoke out. Suddenly the old, authoritative Captain that Lara knew and loved appeared to be back in the room as MacTavish straightened up, his hands gathered behind his back. "We both know that's not going to happen until you've got the all clear."

There was suddenly something there in Price's eyes. McCoy knew she should look away but at the same time she felt unable, momentarily transfixed by the sudden display of unsaid emotion in the older man's face. Betrayal? Disappointment? Irritation? She couldn't be sure, but it was immediately clear that Soap read the signal perfectly as he cleared his throat and quickly looked away. Whatever that look had meant, it had certainly succeeded in making him feel uncomfortable.

"I don't need a bloody audience," Price finally spoke out, his voice measured and terse. He tilted his head towards the door. "No need for you to hang around, Soap."

"Of course." A quick nod and his blue eyes were settled back onto hers, a silent question hanging there between them. This was one signal that Lara was well versed in being able to understand. He wanted to know that she didn't need him either.

"Tell Shepherd he'll have my initial report by this evening. He'll have to wait a little longer for some of the tests to come back from the biomeds." She pushed what she hoped was her most professional smile across her features and nodded her head softly. "Sir."

With Soap gone, Lara felt oddly more relaxed.

She saw no point in drawing out what was already going to be an unpleasant experience. With Price's mouth set in what could only be described as grim resignation she fitted the tourniquet tightly into place and instructed him to make a fist. She meticulously disinfected the area and gave it a few moments to dry, in the meantime arranging the four vacuum tubes that she'd need on the sterile table to her left. The lids of each were brightly coloured, each new colour indicating a different additive within the tube. With Price's arm dry and his head firmly set in the opposite direction, she finally slid the needle and holder into his vein, attaching the first vacuum tube to the other the end of the holder. Crimson steadily began to flood the chamber.

"You can relax your arm now." She nodded quickly, her gloved hands beginning to loosen the tourniquet around his right arm. With the first tube filled, she held the holder steady with her left hand, her right hand swapping the filled tube for the next. Despite her efforts, the holder still managed to move ever so slightly, Price letting out a loud hiss of distaste.

"And how many times have you bloody well done this?"

"Too many." The second tube was filling nicely. "I'm a fully qualified doctor, don't worry."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"I can provide references if you like. Tutors, my supervisors in the RAMC… you name it." She gave him a quick smile, busying herself with changing over the vacuum tube once again. She had no intention of rising to his provocation.

"How long then?" The question came from him between gritted teeth, his head still firmly facing the other direction.

"Sorry?"

"How long have you been with the 141?"

"About 6 months, give or take." She was on the final tube now, her hands still keeping the holder in place.

"That long, eh?" He scoffed, seemingly unaware of whether his comment was rude or not. "You're not Regiment though." It wasn't a question.

"No." Why did she feel as though he could already read her like a book? "Paras."

"Really?" At least that response earned her a fleeting reaction, Price's eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Whether it was purely surprise or a small amount of admiration however, Lara wasn't sure. "Sandhurst?"

"Yes, sir. Commissioned in 2012."

"Bloody hell…" With the final tube filled, she went about removing the needle from his arm, covering it with cotton pad. Indicating for him to replace her fingers with his, she set about bagging and labelling the samples. With that attended to she nudged his hand out of the way, taping a small patch of gauze over where the needle had pierced his skin. Price flexed his arm experimentally, expertly masking any discomfort that he might have felt. He suddenly met her gaze, his face suddenly looking that little bit too pleased with himself. Lara had wondered why until he opened his mouth and spoke again. "So… still a spring chicken then, eh?"

Every inch of her body bristled from the comment. Her shoulders tensed, but she was determined not to let any of the tension reach her face, a likely over played smile still playing out across her lips. She'd been right; Price could read her like a book, his ability to prod at her insecurities impressive considering how long he'd known her. That being said, Lara had absolutely no intention of letting him know how much he'd started to rile her. Thanks to her tumultuous relationship Riley, McCoy had gained a damn sight more self-restraint than she'd first had upon joining the 141.

A year ago, she wasn't so sure that she'd have been able to ignore that kind of comment.

"I'm going to need to do a neuro check." She gave him a gentle smile, moving so that she was in front of him. "You're going to be seeing stars for a while after, but I promise you the worst is over."

"I'm not a child." Price simply replied with a rough shrug.

Then stop bloody well acting like one. Lara managed to bite her tongue despite her growing desire to give Price a real piece of her mind. She decided not to reply at all, instead shining the light into each of Price's eyes in turn. His pupils responded well and next she tested his motor skills, instructing him to follow her pen as she moved it across his field of vision. In that at least, Price seemed perfectly fine.

"Do you have any pain in your ears or throat?"

"Nothing a good glass of whisky won't cure." It seemed Price and MacTavish were more alike than she'd first appreciated. Not trusting him for a moment, Lara examined his ears and throat in turn, before palpating the lymph nodes in his neck. Fortunately there was no sign of any real infection. She withdrew and added the findings to her clipboard, conscious of Price watching her throughout. "Is all this really necessary?"

"It's in your best interests."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"Then yes, it's all completely necessary." She put down the clipboard and looked at him decisively. "I'm going to need you to take off your shirt. I can ask for the Captain to come back into the room if you feel you need male observer."

"Now that really isn't necessary."

"I'd beg to differ."

"Would you now?"

"Yes," her stubborn answer put an end to the quick fire exchange, Lara raising an eyebrow herself. She maintained a determined stance, her hands resting on her hips whilst she continued to stare Price down. A long time ago, before she'd even joined the army, Lara had learnt that a doctor had to pick and choose their battles carefully. Patients could be stubborn, proud people that didn't always have their best interests in mind for whatever reason and so sometimes tactical surrenders or a change of tact could work wonders. And yet despite that there were some battles that simply weren't up for discussion, times when she had to exert every bit of authority she had for the correct outcome, no matter how unpopular it might make her in the short term. Now was one of those times. She might have 'a spring chicken' as he put it, a soldier with a fraction of the service record that he had, but even so it was time to hold her ground. Price couldn't leave the medical bay until she was satisfied, she knew that and so did he. It was the last bit of power that she had and now, with her patience being more than tested, McCoy was willing to use it.

After all, out there Price outranked her easily. But here, he was just another patient. It was high time he remembered that.

"My orders are to conduct a full medical examination," her voice was plain and matter of fact. "I've been at this long enough to know how to follow them. But we can do this one of two ways. One; I do the examination now and you can be free to go within the hour. Two; I can ask for another medic to do the examination for me. But they'll need clearance from General Shepherd before they're allowed within ten feet of you for a start. You can take the chance and see just how far up the list of the General's priorities you are if you like, but if you ask me you'll be stuck in this medical bay for the rest of the day, minimum." She watched his reaction carefully, his brow furrowing as he fought hopelessly to hide a scowl. "As I said, it's your call, sir."

Bloody checkmate. Lara folded her arms, trying as hard as possible to stop a smug smile from spreading out across her features as Price remained silent.

"Let's just get this over with." When his answer finally came, it was filled with gruff indignation. Lara saw no need to reply and add salt to his wounds when he stood slowly, his hands moving to yank the hem of his scabby t shirt up and over his head.

His clothes had hidden a multitude of sins. For a relatively short man he had a sturdy, stocky frame. The fabric had hung off of his shoulder and hips, creating the illusion of a man larger than he actually was. With the loss of his clothing, the true extent of Price's condition suddenly hit home with resounding force. He was thin, painfully so, creases of skin hanging from protruding ridges of bone. The muscle he had retained was clearly visible, his limbs wiry and covered with weathered skin. Most startling of all was the patchwork of colour that littered his body. Scratches of different shades of red streaked across his forearms, each cut at a different stage of the healing process, some still pink and angry, others dark and scabbed over. But the bruising was everywhere. Yellow and green patches indicated old hits to his chest and back that were struggling to heal, whilst the deep purple and blue bruises around ribs were more worrying still, deep blossoming marks that showed sharp kicks or punches to his abdomen. Lara quickly scribbled an x ray request onto her notes. It should have been standard procedure, but with each and every new bruise she worried more and more that his ribs at the very least might be in a poor state.

She took the stethoscope from her neck, feeling that little bit more confident with the familiar weight in her hands. She'd had it throughout her studies, an overenthusiastic present from her brother when she'd received her letter of acceptance from medical school. Ever the sentimentalist, Lara had taken it to every one of her medical placements since. Now, she pressed it firmly to Price's chest, his heart ringing loud and clear in her ears. It was a steady, healthy sound, slightly faster than she would have liked but she quickly put that down to his more than obvious white coat syndrome. Next she listened to his breathy, checking for any rasping or rattling in his chest. Surprisingly, his breathing was relatively clear.

Next was his abdomen. She moved carefully, palpating his mid-section in quadrants, checking for any lumps, bumps and inflammation. A couple of his ribs gave her cause for concern and she jotted the notes down on the clipboard along with a request for an abdominal ultrasound. Throughout, Price remained stoic, his body barely even flinching.

"Does that hurt?" She looked upwards to meet his gaze.

"No." She didn't believe him for a second. There was no way in hell that he wasn't feeling any ill effects or discomfort from the bruising on his torso, Lara had taken enough knocks to her abdomen herself to know that. Likely he was telling her what she wanted to hear. Either way, Lara pretended to at least take the bait with this one, reserving judgement until she had the results of the ultrasound and x rays firmly in hand. "Could you tell me about how you got the bruising?"

"I fell down the stairs." There was a hint of amusement in Price's voice as he pulled his shirt back on. He gave her a long look, his eyebrows raised. "I was in prison. How do you think?"

"I need a little more to go on than that. Can you tell me the nature of-"

"No." Price shook his head resolutely. Suddenly his stare had become so much of a challenge and somehow Lara knew it was something she wasn't equipped to win. There were other ways, better ways to try and get this kind of information, an angry standoff in a medical bay definitely not one of them. She quickly added another note to her clipboard. Recommend psychological evaluation.

"So what's the verdict then?" There was an uneasiness in Price's voice that caught Bones off guard compared to the stubborn quality of before.

"There isn't one just yet. I want your x rays and blood results back before I make any real kind of judgment."

"I wasn't talking about that," his tone was curt. "Am I fit for duty?"

"I wasn't under the impression that you were still active." McCoy regretted how blunt her statement had been when she saw Price flinch. Inwardly she cursed herself for being so careless. He recovered quickly however, squaring up to her with renewed confidence.

"The world's gone to shit and the old rules don't apply anymore. Shepherd'll know that more than anyone else."

"Either way, I still need all your results before I can form any real opinion." McCoy decided that it was far safer to steer clear of the subject of his reinstatement from now on.

"How long?"

"A couple of days? It's not for me to say."

"I don't have that kind of time," the words left his mouth as a frustrated hiss.

"With respect, that's not my problem, sir."

"Isn't it?" An almost bitter laugh erupted from his cracked lips, immediately throwing McCoy off guard. His mouth still set in a smile; he ran a hand through what remained of his hair. "You're familiar with Soap I take it?"

"Of course. He's my CO…" McCoy wasn't entirely sure she liked where this question was headed.

"Then you must have noticed it too. Those bags under his eyes, the harassed tone in his voice? He's a brilliant soldier and a damn good lad to go with it, but Shepherd threw him head first into the fire when he gave him his first real command with the 141 He's buckling under pressure, you don't need to have known him long to see that."

"And so what are you saying? That you could do a better job?" Lara folded her arms, her voice immediately on the defensive. She hoped that the sudden display of loyalty didn't seem misplaced but at the same time she refused to let Price so openly doubt MacTavish. After all, the Captain might have struggled with what his command meant on more than one occasion, but he'd led the 141 through hell and back and his men still loved him for it.

"No…" Price shook his head. "I have more respect for that lad then you could ever bloody appreciate. But he needs me. Needs someone to make the decisions that he can't."

"With respect, command doesn't work that way."

"A bit rich for you to talk to me about command," Price almost snarled, although he kept his tone low making it all the more menacing. "I was training blokes in the SAS while you were still in basic training, I wouldn't be so quick to lecture me about how the world work, love."

"And in the end it doesn't matter what I think. If the General needs you on the team then the decision will be out of my hands regardless of my opinion, medical or otherwise."

"A clean bill of health will make that infinitely easier."

"So you call me naïve and then ask for my help?" McCoy quirked an eyebrow. "And what happens if I give you this clean bill of health and say your fit for duty? What happens if I'm proved wrong? If my friends are put in unnecessary danger because of my mistake?" She crossed her arms. "You're asking for a lot more than just lying to my commanding officer here."

"You just have to trust that I'm old enough to know my limits."

"I barely know you, never mind trust you."

"But you trust Soap, correct?" He gave her a burning look, his grey eyes focused, as if he knew he was onto something. "Of course you do, you jumped to his defense in an instant. He trusts me implicitly, without bloody question. That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

"That's completely different."

"Is it? That kind of trust comes out of years of hauling each other's arses out of the fire so many times that we've both lost count. All I'm asking is to be there for him to depend on again," Price sighed, his shoulders hunched. Suddenly the anger and frustration in his voice was lost, instead replaced by an odd kind of vulnerability. "I need to be in this fight, McCoy."

"I'll get a report to Shepherd as soon as I can," Lara finally said after a pause, taking a step backwards as if to illustrate that the conversation was over. She was fighting a losing battle, one that was likely to drag on if she didn't make her exit sooner rather than later. "In the meantime you're free to go. For what it's worth, I suggest you get a hot meal and plenty of sleep."

"And my results?"

"As I said, I'll make a decision when I can." McCoy turned on her heel, her right hand gripping her clipboard tightly. She had no intention of being pressed to come to a decision until she was asked to, no matter how much he pleaded or tried to sway her. She was all ready to leave the medical bay then and there rather than be drawn reluctantly into another discussion, but as she neared the door something made her stop and turn around. The words were bitter on her tongue, but she found herself speaking them before she could even try and bite them back regardless.

Maybe she hadn't learnt as much self-restraint as she'd previously thought…

"The 141 is my family. You can call me green as much as you like, hell you can joke all you want about the fact that I was probably still in high school when you started out. But if you're half the soldier I've heard about then even you must appreciate the fact that the bond I have with them, that the trust they have in me is the most important thing I have now. I won't risk that for just anything. I won't risk them," she shrugged, her hands hanging idly by her sides. "So if you want your last blaze of suicidal glory then be my guest. But don't you dare ask me to endanger them just so that you can have it."


"So… how long do you think some of these girls have been at sea for?" Toad laughed, leaning back in his seat.

"Not long enough to find your skinny arse attractive." Archer rolled his eyes, his palms nursing a cup of coffee in an acrylic grey mug. The corners of his mouth quirked up into the briefest of smiles. "I'd quit while you're ahead, mate."

"I could die tomorrow…"

"You're playing the sob story angle, really?" Roach laughed from his place on the floor, his head leaning against his bunk. They'd been in the rec room for less than 24 hours and even so the place resembled a bombsite, littered with what little personal effects they had and a multitude of empty food wrappers. "I thought you were supposed to be able to get anyone into bed?"

"I never mentioned how," Toad simply replied with an over confident wink.

With MacTavish still trapped in all the duties that made Riley glad that he didn't have command, Ghost was left to babysit the task force. For the most part this involved sitting around in confined spaces with them and making sure that morale stayed high. Technically it also meant that he was responsible should any of them decide to do anything stupid, but since Toad was always talking about shagging something, Riley saw no need to intervene.

Besides, having banged their medic himself, Simon was in no real rush to label himself as a hypocrite either.

And in reality, the banter that they all threw around so casually had a deeper, ulterior motive. They might have been cut off from regular radio and TV updates, but on a ship like this, there was no avoiding talking. The ship was buzzing with news, opinions and thoughts on the war, on what was happening for many of the 141 right on their doorstep. Even though everyone he cared for were well removed from the invasion, Ghost himself could relate to the sense of unease just as much as the others. He wasn't a man to sit around on his arse and wait, none of them were. They were elite because they constantly strived to be in the middle of the action, to be where the fighting was thickest and the stakes were highest. It was what they were trained to do, what was expected of them, hell it was what they expected of themselves. Resting on their laurels when the rest of the world seemed to be fighting felt wrong, almost cowardly, even if it wasn't a conscious choice any of them had actually made. And stuck at sea with a crew who avoided them like the plague, the only real diversion they had was each other.

For a split second, Riley found himself wishing for one of Meat's stupid arsed comments. There was no denying the fact that the task force had laughed one hell of a lot less since they'd lost Greg and Alex.

A loud screech accompanied the door to their makeshift quarters opening and there was Bones, her face like a smacked arse. Her expression was drawn, weary, the very image of a person who looked as though they'd been forced through the proverbial wringer for the past couple of hours. If Ghost hadn't known any better, he would have simply put it down to pure fatigue, but having met Price a good few times in the past, Riley didn't doubt for a second that the old bastard had been asserting himself in places where he shouldn't.

He wasn't about to go over there and check on her, she had Gary for that after all, although in the truth Roach was hardly in his most perceptive state thanks to his lingering concussion. But as McCoy made a beeline for him, Riley wasn't about to back away from her either. It seemed that his talk with Bones earlier, however strained and brief it may have been, had reassured her that they still had some kind of friendship left. Considering Lara's fetish for crippling herself with guilt and regret, Ghost was almost impressed.

"Fuck…"

"Bad day at the office, huh?" He quirked an eyebrow as Lara collapsed down onto the seat beside him. He barely gave her a moment's attention, his eyesight flickering back to the others just in time for him to catch Roach glancing in their direction. His expression was an odd mix of surprise and wariness.

"How'd you guess?"

"You look like shit," he told her with a rough shrug.

"I feel ten times worse," she shrugged back, the following laugh more breathy than anything else. Tilting her head backwards she half looked in his direction. "Price is…"

"A force of nature, I know." She sounded exhausted, looked even more so. It reminded him more of the old McCoy, of the almost painfully naïve medic who had practically side stepped into their rec room one evening. The old Bones, back when she was an outsider fighting for some form of real recognition from her peers. She'd permanently looked exhausted back then, her features drawn whenever her tough exterior armour cracked enough to let it show. It was the kind of exhaustion only seen on the faces of people trying that little bit too hard, people who were desperately looking to prove themselves and their actions. Hell, Ghost himself knew more about those kind of masks than most. He'd been wearing a similar one for years.

Once upon a time he hadn't given a shit about what masks McCoy tried to wear. Then he'd become almost obsessed with seeing just how good those masks were, almost relishing the way that with each visit to his room he'd see a new crack in Lara's self defense, that the more he pushed her, the more he saw the real McCoy. Then suddenly she wasn't acting anymore, not for him and not for anyone. Somehow she had slotted into the task force, filled a niche that none of them had known was wanting before. She hadn't needed a mask in months, until now. Riley didn't doubt for a second that it was because somehow, someway Price had managed to back her into a corner, force her to don that Ice Queen smile again. He wasn't sure where the emotion came from, but there was something about that that Riley didn't quite like.

All their other shit aside, McCoy had earned her place with the 141. She'd paid for it in blood, sweat, and one hell of a lot of tears. In Ghost's opinion at least, Price didn't have the right to even think otherwise.

Not that he was about to admit any of that to her, anyway.

"Simon," There it was, that tone of voice that never seemed to end in a conversation that he actually wanted to have. Unwilling to cede any ground, Riley reluctantly turned and met her gaze, although he refused to speak first, the situation was beyond uncomfortable already. "I just wanted…" Her right hand hovered towards him and his bicep immediately tensed, his body suddenly rigid. It hadn't been a conscious decision as such and yet Lara seemed to notice his body flinch away from hers, her hand dropping back down to her side in an instant. She bit her lip, her voice all the more sheepish this time around. "I just wanted to say thanks."

Ahhh. It was one of those conversations. If it hadn't been obvious as hell under the circumstances, Riley would have allowed himself a good eye roll. She wanted to thank him for earlier, for defending her in spite of the bollocks Shadow Company had been chatting behind her back. She wanted him to know that it meant something, that she'd been so oblivious that she'd never really stopped to think about how she'd become an intrinsic part of their team. And most of all she wanted him to know that she cared, even now, after everything she'd done and said. That his opinion mattered all the more because he cared, because he hadn't just blocked her out all but entirely as she'd probably first expected.

But in truth, Riley knew all that, even before the words left her mouth. And he was pretty sure that he could read her a damn sight more eloquently than she could explain herself…

"You don't owe me shit, McCoy." It wasn't his greatest line, but it was the best he could think of right then.

"What?"

"I know where this is headed and all I'm saying is we don't need to go there, ok?"

"But what you said earlier-"

"What I said earlier doesn't have much to do with you and me, if that's what you mean." He fixed her with a firm stare. "I'd have said it regardless of what shit had or hadn't gone on between us. Shadow Company like to talk out of their arses, no self respecting member of the 141 would tolerate their bullshit, no matter who it is exactly that they're busy slagging off."

"I see," her voice had become smaller, almost embarrassed and McCoy seemed to almost shrink away from him. He'd been too blunt; he knew it in an instant. She'd seen him defending her as some kind of olive branch and here he was saying that he would have defended anyone, whether he gave a fuck about them or not. In all fairness, that wasn't entirely true.

"I meant what I said, okay?" Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable, his right hand gravitating upwards to scratch at the back of his head. "But I'm not the kind of guy to sweep everything under the rug and pretend it's all peaches."

"Really?" She cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

"You know me, Bones. I can't just let shit go like it was nothing. MacTavish can, Gary can, hell maybe even you can. But I can't."

"I know."

"But credit me with not being a complete and utter arsehole, okay?" He watched as she nodded slowly, her expression surprisingly unreadable. At best, he guessed that Lara herself didn't know what she was feeling at this point.

"Well… thank you." She was withdrawing at this point, soft smile pushed across her weary features. She looked him in the eye, her teeth momentarily worrying at her bottom lip. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Yeah…" The word came out in a complete exhale. "I get that."

She was headed for the safety of Roach and he had no desire to stop her. After all, what more was there to say? He knew Lara wanted something more, was desperate for some kind of absolution for what she'd done. She wanted a resolution to what had happened between them, and maybe underneath it all, so did he. But he was a realist and there was no denying the fact that he had given her everything he had to give. He couldn't just forget. He couldn't with his family and he couldn't with her. Maybe he simply couldn't forgive and forget when it came to the things that mattered. He just wasn't that selfless.

With anyone else he was certain that he could happily go on holding this kind of grudge forever, no matter how many cow eyed looks and apologies they fed him. But with McCoy… Resigning her to be something meaningless in his thoughts felt impossible. She meant more to him than that, she had for a long time now. She was a head-fuck and in a lot of ways she didn't deserve his forgiveness in any shape or form. Even so, Simon just didn't have the heart to push her aside completely.

He had changed, she'd been right about that one. Unfortunately, he'd just not changed as much as either of them had hoped.


And so there we have it, chapter 29. A bit of a break from action but if you bear with me for chapter 30 then you're sure to find it action packed. ;) And it's pretty much written, so I'm hoping to get it posted within the next week! Either way, a huge thank you as usual for bearing with me and remember that if you want to see any random one shots or just stuff that I find cool on the internet, come over and find me on tumblr at sassysatsuma dot tumblr dot com. :D

-x-Sass-x-

Keeping with CITS tradition, the music that I was frantically typing to this time was:

Lrad – Knife Party (EDM)

Headlights – Young Guns (Rock)

Bleeding Out – Imagine Dragons (Alternative?)

Antidote – Swedish House Mafia & Knife Party (Dance/EDM)

They Live – Engine Earz Experiment (Dubstep)

Addicted to Pain – Alter Bridge (Rock)