Ch. 2 - Awakening
Soap could hear muffled voices all around him, his head spun and his body was numbed by lack of blood flow. He tried to raise an arm but his muscles couldn't receive the signal. His eyelids pinched together as his eyebrows furrowed. The ringing in his ears dissipated long enough to hear two-no three different voices; two men and one woman. One he recognized, the other two he couldn't place. Feeling compelled, he slowly opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred and hazy. The images began to fade again but he fought it off long enough to get a decent look at the people around him. He suddenly realized he was being carried, with the darkened sky above him and several faces staring straight ahead with alertness.
Looking from face to face, he noticed that there weren't three people, but actually five, the two other men just hadn't spoken. His eyes finally landed on the woman he had heard before. He could barely make out her face but she had wide, round eyes that were framed in loose, fallen waves. Sensing something, she had peered down at him for a moment. All he could do was stare into her face. Who was she? Who were these people? And what the hell was going on? Feeling overexerted from simply opening his eyes, he drifted back into a deep sleep where he found himself in an oblivion of mist and very little thought.
Back into real time, Dmitriy noticed Soap's once motionless hand twitch. Dmitriy brought his head up and looked at the hand, pondering whether or not his eyes had deceived him. He then noticed Shawn had perked his head up as well. They both glanced at each other with bewilderment.
"Did you see that too?" Shawn asked from his position near the window. Dmitriy nodded. With that, everyone stood up to approach Soap's bedside. The man had been out for four days, he had fallen into his deep slumber October 11th and even slept through the announcement of the peace treaty between the Russian Federation and the United States, ultimately leading to the end of the war. Had the man been awake, he would have been absolutely stoked. But alas, he had been unconscious through his slow and rough recovery.
Everyone still was staring down at him, television humming in the background. Eventually, Liev merely sighed, but then Soap's whole arm flinched. At that moment, everyone leaned forward; Shawn, Ricochet, Liev, and Dmitriy. All four of them were ready to see the awakening of the injured man and were ready to get some rest with the news of the ending of World War. The man was still a depressing sight to see, especially for Liev and Dmitriy because they had the honors of being able to see the toughened man in battle. He was skilled, hardy, and incredibly good at what he did, so it was upsetting to see a once incredible role-model for the war efforts now laying helpless and vulnerable attached to a heartbeat monitor and a feeding tube. War was a cruel occurrence, and many extraordinary men and women had perished from the violence.
Suddenly, Soap's eyes peeled open, something that hadn't been done since the night he was carried through the streets of Mělník. It was the first time for them to actually get a look at his light-blue grey eyes, framed in his dark eyelashes. Within his eyes, was an odd mixture of utter confusion and downright exhaustion. He blinked slowly and looked from face to face.
Liev became excited. "This is great. Nikolai will be excited to hear this news."
Shawn nodded. "Definitely. You all said his name was Soap?" Both Liev and Dmitriy nodded with agreement. Shawn peered back down at Soap who still stared deep into the souls of everyone around him. He tried to cough on the feeding tube as his eyes found all of the equipment he had been hooked up to.
"Did you hear that, Soap? Your future is looking much more promising." Shawn claimed but was only met with an even more intense, bewildered stare.
Soap? The name rung a bell in Soap's head, but he didn't know what it was. Everyone was left with their eyes still locked on him, and suddenly they realized something didn't seem right.
"He looks-very anxious. Do you think something happened to him during his fall...like to his head?" Ricochet immediately questioned, looking towards the guys.
Shawn shook his head and shrugged. "It's actually very likely. The doctor said he had been diagnosed with a concussion."
On cue, a nurse walked in to check the levels on Soap; her eyes lit up at the sight of the man looking over towards her. "Oh, this is great! We were worried he wouldn't wake up anytime soon." She had said in Czech. She made her way over to his side where she immediately brought a light to his face and told him to follow it. At first, he didn't understand her, only stared blankly into her face and through the bright light now before his eyes. He looked away from it as he head began to ache. She snapped to get his attention, which he immediately followed through with his wandering eye which watched the light move slowly across his face.
She sat back up, after having leaned in, and opened her mouth to speak. "That's good. He should start gaining back some of his reflexes and response time. I'll go get the doctor." The nurse then stood to leave where everyone else who remained in the room watched her as she left through the door. Ricochet and Shawn looked at each other; they were both ready to go home, but were both determined to stay until they got accurate feedback.
While the four of them sat around the room, Soap's eyes had locked onto the television. He watched with a deadpan expression as the images moved and the news anchors talked in Czech. Apparently a World War had just ended. It was news to him. That was something exciting, right? His mind suddenly flashed images of warfare and the cracks and blasts of artillery and assault rifles. He became startled by it. What was that?
After several long, dragging minutes the doctor finally ambled into the room where his eyes found Soap and looked at him observantly. He paced over to Soap's side and looked him over. Turning to face the soldiers, he said, "We're going to run some scans on him now that he's awake. We won't know more until we get some readings and results."
Everyone sighed with exasperation. "How long will that take?" Shawn inquired.
The doctor rubbed his chin. "Two days maybe. The scans themselves won't take long. It's the results that will take the most time."
Shawn rubbed his brow, Liev and Dmitriy sunk into their chairs, and Ricochet's chin found the palm of her hand. Now that the war was over, the soldiers were ready to get some rest and return to their jobs. Not one of them had heard from Nikolai, and Shawn and Ricochet lost communications with their team. So not only was everyone weary, but they were somewhat worried about the little news. No one knew what to do except wait for Soap to actually do something besides slowly look around the room. It was promising he had finally stirred, but it was obvious something wasn't right.
With that, the four of them stood and left to return to Liev's quarters. That was another thing, everyone appreciated the hospitality that Liev's grandparents had offered, but being a forced houseguest wasn't near the top of anyone's list.
Several more days had past, making the waiting time reach a full week, when they finally heard back from the hospital. The readings came back with the findings of Soap's temporal lobe to be a bit off. It was determined with the combination of the traumatic stress and the concussion that the man had temporarily lost a decent portion of his memory. The doctor left them all with the statement that, "his memory will gradually start coming back with time and prominent cues, such as major parts of his past that can help spike a flashback."
It wasn't the best news, but the good news was that Soap was on the road to recovery. It was going to be a long road, and now an even longer one with his memory damaged.
Liev and Dmitriy finally parted ways with Shawn and Ricochet once a convoy came to pick them up to return them to their home bases. The two of them were thrilled and were ready to be on their way. As for Shawn and Ricochet, they were finally able to get back in touch with their leader of their team, which also happened to be Shawn's oldest brother, Samson. The two Americans were then scheduled to get picked up by their pilot, Shorty, a day after they established communications. After that long stretch of roughly ten days, the four soldiers had left to return back to their lives before the war. No one had yet to hear from Nikolai. They figured no news was good news, but when dealing with warfare delayed news was the worse. Everyone had known Nikolai had parted from their presence to begin a search for John Price, the British ex-S.A.S. captain. Their war with the terrorist Vladimir Makarov was still alive and thriving. They were still hunting for bloodshed, and now revenge with the thought of Soap having perished from the compromise.
As for Soap, he was left in the care of the Mělník hospital, where many of the employees and staff attempted to search for clues as to who is family was, where he was from, and so on. All they had to go by was his dog tags they had removed from around his neck. John MacTavish. And at the current moment, his wellness status had been claimed as KIA, when in reality, he was stuck and lost in a small hospital in Mělník with no people he knew. All while this was going on, the four soldiers from before made constant attempts at contacting Nikolai, none of which succeeded. Nikolai was their only known chance at getting Soap's memory revived. So instead, they were all stuck in a void of uncertainty and occasional news from the Mělník hospital.
More days had passed, and time seemed to stand still for Soap who struggled with random images in his head of different faces and landmarks. It was starting to drive him into a deep exhaustion. As his body staggered along and up the road to recovery, his mind was having an internal battle with itself. So badly had he wanted to put names with faces and words with the proper spelling. The doctors had giving him a journal to write in, where he struggled with spelling in both English and Russian. Even the most fundamental of words, he couldn't spell. At this point in the recovery stage, Soap was finally able to move his bruised limbs. He had easily lost 15 lbs. of muscle mass, and for some reason, it really aggravated him. Somewhere in his head, he knew that staying fit was vitally important; images and pictures of him running courses and putting endless hours of physical exertion into his days in order to achieve an optimal physique played constantly in his head.
Growing impatient with words, he began to draw the faces. Roughly outlining contours and putting structure into the faces his mind showed him, he began to relax a little. It was soothing for him, even when nurses were constantly walking in and out to check on him, and work on him with his movements. Luckily for him, he gained muscle memory and general movements down fast. He walked fine, he could easily grab and reach for things with extraordinary coordination for a man in his condition, and even as his body allowed for him to gain back its reflexes and coordination it still annoyed him constantly having thoughts of trying to get better. Get back to that optimal weight. Tone out the core and his mobility. Strengthen his grip, his arms, his legs, all of it.
A month had past, and Soap was finally into extensive physical therapy with the doctors and nurses, where they worked intensively on his road to getting better. Had he remembered things and had he had kept a lively communication between Nikolai and his comrades from the war, he would have been excited with the news of the manhunt for Makarov. All while he worked at gaining his mobility and mentality, Price, Nikolai, and Yuri were narrowing in on Makarov's whereabouts. All three of them searched for Makarov with the thoughts of losing their friend, Soap, and just the sheer insanity Makarov possessed, as their fuel and ambition.
As time continued to run its course, and almost another month had dragged on, Soap had finally been released from the hospital. His once buzzed head, and properly kept mohawk, had all grown out revealing a thick head of dark-brown hair. The scar on his chin and left brow remained prominent, in addition to his battle hardened rudgeness. Once gaining more mobility, he had spent many hours just staring into the mirror in his hospital room bathroom. Seeing his own eyes, lips, nose, and his scars had all helped to contribute to gaining his memory back. His mind had flashed images yet again, only this time they appeared to be just pictures in general. It was of him and an older gentleman wearing a boonie and bearing a rough looking beard. He recognized him, but for some reason, the face was blank.
After walking through the front doors of the hospital, Soap looked around at his surroundings and played with his reacquired dog tags. The urge to just run quickly through the streets was boiling inside of him. Taking a deep breath, he started to run. Just to feel his legs move and work felt amazing. He started his jog off sloppy, but his brain immediately triggered the physical labor side of him, and pushed him to run faster. The doctors had told him to take it easy, but he obviously didn't listen. He could care less as the bystanders and pedestrians stared with bemusement as he sprinted through the streets and down alleyways. Soap had no idea where he was going, and he was hardly familiar with the area; he just wanted to run, just to feel the muscles in his legs and arm work.
Coming to a stop at the sound of someone uttering, "Soap," he panted heavily and looked over his shoulder. It was Liev, who had returned to check in on Soap and his grandparents. Soap recognized the name the man used for him and he even recognized the face, but couldn't put a finger on either the of them. The nurses and doctors had been calling him 'John' the entire time, but something about the way the man said, 'Soap', was enough to make him halt completely in his tracks and look towards man with intrigue.
The man flashed and smile and approached him with swift excitement. "Holy hell, you're alive! And you're running!" Liev's smile was wide. Soap blinked at him. Finally, it clicked. Liev was at the hospital with him, but he still couldn't but a name with the face.
"Who are you again?" Soap asked. Liev would have found it rude, had he not had known of Soap's previous fate.
"It's Liev, back from our days in the resistance assisting the Loyalists in the fight against the Ultranationalists. Nikolai is going to be glad to see you. I was finally able to find a person who had active contact with him. Isn't that great? We can finally get you home."
Soap's eyes widened as he was suddenly blasted by a wave of memories and flashbacks. He hands found his temples as he closed his eyes and brought his head down. Liev watched in concern. At the sound of Nikolai, he was able to start putting more pieces together. Why he was constantly in the line of fire, why he was constantly surrounded by death, and even why he had the urge to just run with life through the streets.
"The war…" Soap murmured as he brought his eyes back up to Liev's. Soap was looking down at him, he had a solid four inches on Liev, despite having lost several pounds of muscle mass, Soap still possessed his broad chest and shoulders giving him a very tough look. He had memories of pushing someone out of an opening and plummeting several stories and into scaffolding.
Liev peered into Soap's baffled face. "How-how is your memory doing?"
Soap looked around and scratched his head. "It's coming along. My head always hurts though. Doctors said it's normal."
Liev nodded. "You're a lucky man. You died at some point, you know?"
Soap's eyebrows lowered as his mind worked to feed him more memories. He was recovering his thoughts quicker than most experts would have predicted, but Soap's determination and ambition was abnormal and the feeling of wanting to get back into the game was constantly eating at him.
"I felt dead. In some ways I still kind of do." Soap claimed as his eyes fell back on Liev and stared at him intently through dark lashes.
"Don't worry, we'll get you back to where you belong. In the meantime," Liev outstretched his arm with guidance. "Let's get you somewhere safe. We have to wait for a reply from Nikolai anyways." Soap hesitated momentarily before finally feeling Liev was trustworthy enough to follow.
From there, Liev was willing to work with Soap who was constantly trying to prove he could handle himself, despite still probably needing to give his body a rest. Liev would get up in the mornings, and would notice Soap was always gone and would eventually be back from his morning jog in time for breakfast. He was beginning to make leaps and bounds as Liev showed Soap some exercises he could start doing, all of which immediately came back to him as he ate up the knowledge eagerly. Finally, Liev no longer tried to persuade Soap to take a break every once in awhile, but rather he encourage Soap's active behavior to the point he started doing the exercises with him.
The two of them stretched, jogged, and worked-out constantly; Liev was determined to give Soap the moral support he so desperately searched for, despite the fact Soap was gradually starting to outlast Liev in many different scenarios. Being able to lift heavier things, running for longer, everything was growing more prominent, and Soap's memory was steadily making its presence known. He eventually came back to loving the name 'Soap' over 'John', and responded the most proficiently when addressed by it. Hearing the nickname he was giving back in the day as a F.N.G. fueled his strength and drive, he felt like a different person.
After another month of working his body and gaining some of his muscle mass back, he took a jog one morning without Liev's presence; Liev had become increasingly business during his attempts to reach Nikolai and it took up most of his time. Liev would wait days before hearing back from one of the people in the long chain of names that could eventually link him to getting ahold of Nikolai. During his probing and conversations, Liev had heard of Price, Yuri, and Nikolai closing in on Makarov's location and how they had established plans to eliminate the terrorist once and for all.
Soap had left just shy of the morning sun making its attempts at peaking up into the horizon. He threw a hood over his head, set a timer on his digital wristwatch, and set out for his two-hour long jog. While he ran on the side of the streets, he decided to switch things up this morning and went down a small side road to give himself a change of scenery. His thoughts wandered and his concentration on jogging steadily faded as he became immersed in his mind.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted at the obstacle that found itself in his path. He came to a stop at the sight of three hooded men who had emerged from behind a dumpster and a small alley. As they walked out, placing a blockade in front of the Scottish man, his eye caught the shimmer of the knives each man wielded. He felt his heart begin to race as his eyes narrowed in on this new found threat.
One of the men began speaking in Czech, his voice was low and threatening. The man next to the one who spoke laughed and flashed an amused grin.
Finally, the one who spoke pointed the knife in Soap's direction. Soap had gained little experience with Czech while he was in the hospital, but he knew he was about to be mugged, which was ironic because they were going to attempt to mug a poor man.
"Look at this stupid fuck," one man said, which Soap roughly translated in his head. "Taking a morning jog on a sketchy road."
Another man laughed. "Look how confused he looks. He's realizing he's about to get fucked up."
Soap's heart thumped against his chest and he felt an inner rage emerging. The pain in his head was starting to push into the back of his eyes to the point it only added onto his growing irritation.
Suddenly, one of the men came at him with the knife. Soap's vision slowed and his thought process went blank, everything that occurred afterwards came from purely within the confines of everything he had learned throughout the years of his military career. As the man came at him, Soap sidestepped with immense amounts of agility, completely blind-siding the attacker. Soap grabbed his arm with one fluid movement, and popped the guys elbow out of place with a strong placement of a palm. The man screamed as his arm went limp. Soap grabbed the knife clear from his hand and flipped him onto his back where the air got smacked right out of him.
He caught a glimpse at the other two attackers and saw a look of shock on their faces. But they angrily charged at him. Soap grappled the first guy, while dodging the swing of the other. He stabbed the second man in the back of the neck, instantly paralyzing him from the neck down and found himself in a position to take advantage of the missed attack the last man had taken at him. Stepping forward with all of his weight, Soap's foot went crashing into the man's knee, dislocating the bend in his leg. Adrenaline rushed through Soap's body as he grabbed the man's body and threw it to the ground, where he flew with intense force into the dirt and bashed his head against the dumpster.
Then it became still. Soap could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he looked over the men he had taken out in the matter of ten seconds. One was easily dead, the other was unconscious, and the first man was coming too and looked up with utter distraught. Soap met his eyes, and breathed through his mouth, before turning to continue his jog. He made sure to step over the dead man's body before continuing his trek back to Liev's house.
On his jog back, his head was aching. It was like nothing he had ever experienced and he couldn't catch his breath. Memories of active duty ran through his head. He saw the many faces of the fellow war comrades whom he had fought besides; the ones who lived and the ones who had died. He grew depressed and exhilarated at the same time. He was starting to finally realize who he was, especially when his thoughts managed to drift into his childhood where he was a young boy helping his mum cook and clean. She relied heavily on the help of him and his two siblings. Then he grew concerned about his mother and realized how much she probably cried over his disappearance. His memory gradually coming back was promising and the best thing to have happen, but he just wasn't ready for all of this emotion to rush over him all at once. It was like getting blasted by a crashing wave of water.
Once back at Liev's quarters, he was greeted by an overly excited Liev, who instantly ran at him once Soap opened the door. Soap wasn't quite ready to be met with such a profound greeting, but he knew it had to have been good.
"Soap! Soap! I got it. It got it!"
"Got what?"
Liev raised a piece of paper in the air. "I got the most recent news of Nikolai and Price's location!"
The name Price rung in Soap's ears. The memories wouldn't stop. Getting attacked in the alleyway had awoken something inside of the massive man, and his mind would not stop running.
"Nikolai and Price, they're on their way to assassinate Makarov."
Soap looked at him with intense blue eyes. "Makarov?"
Liev nodded. "The man you and Price had been hunting down before you got injured. In fact...that's how you got injured."
Soap hadn't really asked about his injury before, he wasn't sure if he was ready to hear about it. But Liev just threw it right at him. Soap couldn't stand anymore, his headache was far too overwhelming. The lights were too bright and his stomach churned. At this point, his headache was easily in the migraine status. He had to take a seat and hold his head.
Liev's hand found the man's broad shoulder. "...Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Soap snapped; he felt bad for not being able to hold back his frustrations. "So what's the news?"
Liev ignored Soap's irritated replied, and instead went straight into answering the question. "It means I can get in touch with Nikolai tomorrow. The three men have set-off to murder Makarov. That damn bastard...they found him in the Hotel Oasis in the Arabian Peninsula."
Soap knew it was astounding news, but he had really no idea what the importance of the locations were to him. It wasn't like he could go join them. Soap looked at Liev and merely nodded, and was ready to rest. He wasn't ready to take food and simply wanted to crash into a pillow. Throughout the day, Liev continued to check on Soap and was finding himself on the phone constantly. He worked hard for the man, Soap knew once his head wasn't throbbing he'd be eternally grateful to Liev and his actions.
As the day dragged on, Soap could barely take any food and his eyes ached from the sight of light. He felt pathetic hiding in the dark, but his body and mind told him to relax for once. Liev let the man rest, he knew Soap needed it. The ex-S.A.S. captain had been exerting himself nonstop and his memory was making a steady progression. Liev found the whole thing to be awe-inspiring and was glad he could be apart of it.
By the next day, Liev, after an additional several hours of waiting, got a hold of Nikolai.
Nikolai answered, "Привет? (Hello?)"
"Nikolai!" Liev said into the phone. Nikolai paused on the other end.
"Da?" He replied.
"You have to come back to Mělník, now."
"Oh, yeah?" Nikolai's voice was starting to sound increasingly more intrigued.
Liev swallowed with a growing excitement. Soap watched him from across the room. "It's Soap. He's back."
There was a long pause on the other end, Liev knew they had some distance on each other; he could hear a faint buzzing. "No. Fucking. Way."
"Da-you have to come now."
Immediately, Nikolai responded. "On it." Then there was a click. Liev put the phone down with a faint smile on his face and turned to look at Soap who bore a relieved expression. Liev nodded in his direction.
The rest of the day had taken long, but like Nikolai promised, he got "on it" and was able to reach Mělník by the next day in his Little Bird. Liev met Nikolai at the landing spot and was greeted with a strong pat on the back.
"Liev, the amount of gratitude I wish I could express right now-" Nikolai began.
Liev shook his head. "I had no part in his revival. That was you and that American."
"Still," Nikolai stated with bliss in his brown eyes, "you kept that Scotsman company, and that was important."
Liev accepted the appreciation, and couldn't help but feel somewhat proud. He was a young man who became encompassed in the war as things intensified. He was only 20 years old, and would easily admit to having Soap grow on him. He finally made it back to his family's house with Nikolai and eagerly opened the door. Nikolai walked in, and there he was, in all of his glory, was Soap sitting at the table.
Their eyes met as a huge smile crept onto Nikolai's face. He brought Soap into a huge man hug, where Soap willingly returned the gesture. Soap had lost weight, but Nikolai could tell he was gradually putting it back on.
Nikolai pulled back and exhaled with relief and just took in the image of Soap being alive and well. "I can't fucking believe it." He had to chuckle with manly glee. "Everyone thought you were KIA, yet here you are. You sure do know how to avoid death, don't you?"
Soap let a smile pull across his face. "I couldn't have done it without your help."
Nikolai rubbed his chin and pointed at Soap with his other hand. "That American, Shawn, he probably was the one who actually saved you. He was a determined fuck, that one. That Titan Task Force sure does know how to train its men. But oh, I'm getting carried away," Nikolai paused to ponder. "Makarov is dead, Soap."
At that, Soap was hit by a barrage of realization. Suddenly, he just knew everything. His head returned to hurting but the amount of satisfaction that swirled around him was so rewarding that he couldn't care. An even bigger smile grew across his face. He ran his strong hand through his dark-hair and had a sudden urge to shave it all down. His heart pumped with a rush of energy, and he couldn't remember the last time he felt this good.
"That's-that's fucking fantastic." Soap finally stated.
Nikolai nodded. "Price will want to hear from you. Luckily, I just saw that man recently. I can get in touch with him immediately. I'm sure he's on his way back to the U.K. right about now. It's funny, because the Titan Task Force I mentioned earlier, they're actually the ones who picked him up after he hung Makarov from a metal wire."
Holy shit. A metal wire? Soap couldn't help but be amused by the old man's tactics. "Price would manage to kill someone that way, and it was very appropriate. That bastard needed to go out in the most miserable way possible."
"You know," Nikolai started, "Price still thinks you're dead...you should talk to him."
Soap agreed immediately as Nikolai followed through with managing to get Price on the line.
Price felt the phone Nikolai had given him next to his arm vibrate. His eyes peered down through a lowered brow. He was exhausted and felt rather lost and depressed as he thought of his fallen friend. He was on a helicopter heading home, and considered not even answering. But he recognized the number as Nikolai's.
Rolling his tongue in his mouth and scratching his beard, he snatched up the phone.
"What?" His voice sounded hoarsely.
"Price," he heard Nikolai's voice on the other end. "I have someone who wants to talk to you."
Price didn't respond and waited on his end. His eyes staying locked onto the interior of the chopper in front of him. He suddenly heard the phone getting into the hands of a new person. Who could it possibly be? He honestly didn't care.
It remained quiet for a second, then an all too familiar deep voice, laced in a Scottish accent, spoke into the other end. "I'm coming home, old man."
I wanted this chapter to move quickly that way I can just get straight to the point of the story. No one wants to read about Soap eating cereal. (Or maybe we do...)