A/N: I had to push through a major block to write this, so forgive me if any of it seems kinda...blaaand.

Also thought I'd take the time to say I love you guys. :D

One Week To Fix Him

The mission turned out to be a success, as always. Nevermind the fact that Roach had emptied his ACR out on the Russians (even the dead ones) in what everyone could only assume was burning ire, nor the bit about Scarecrow getting kicked in the back of the knee by the Sergeant for mentioning his wife's new job as head manager of a department store, or Royce almost being pushed off the side of the cliff at the LZ because Ghost had told him to ask Roach about his night out. Among these, it was the mission's auspicious completion that really mattered most.

When the Task Force was back home, they decided to focus on the important things.

Once Roach had left the break room to brood in silence, Toad was the first to speak up. "Does anyone mind telling me why Sanderson's got such a huge stick up his ass?"

"Ghost took him out to a pub a few days ago." MacTavish answered, his back to the group sitting idly around the room. Toad was quiet for a moment, then broke into a sneer and turned toward the offending officer at hand. "What the hell were you thinking?" He snapped. Ghost gave a half-hearted shrug.

As Toad stood and opened his mouth to say something, MacTavish meandered over and waved a dismissive hand toward him, sitting down at the table. "Ghost wasn't here when it happened the first time, Toad. Calm down."

The burly American grunted as he sat down, leaning against the back of the couch tentatively. Ghost cleared his throat and offered a smile at his colleague, albeit invisible behind his balaclava. "Well, I know now. That's what matters. And I've got a plan to fix it."

He was met with immediate silence.

"Fix a phobia?" Royce piped up from the couch, turning to look around at the Lieutenant. "I don't know if you've heard, sir, but phobias take a pretty damn long time to fix. Roach's is especially extreme, too."

Scarecrow nodded in agreement, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his leg. "Yeah. It's out there, man."

"It'd probably take months to cure. Maybe years. Who knows? He's not interested in fixing it, that's for sure." Rook added.

Ghost shook his head, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table. "I've got plans. I've got ideas and I'm sure that at least one of 'em is gonna work," He paused, looking around. "But I need you blokes to help me out."

"No." Scarecrow replied.

"Shit no." Toad followed.

"No thanks." Royce and Rook voiced.

"No way in hell." Meat, Worm, and Ozone chorused.

"I'd rather not touch that sensitive of a subject. Sorry, mate." Archer muttered.

Price snorted. (Ghost assumed it was also a 'no')

"I don't see why not."

The occupants turned to address MacTavish at the table. He looked up and shrugged when he noticed all eyes on him. "Shepherd's given us a week off. Might as well use it trying to help Roach," He paused, taking an indolent sip of coffee. "Since none of you ever do anything productive anyway."

Ghost nodded and got to his feet, still smiling behind his mask. "Brilliant. We'll start in the morning, eh?"

He was out before Toad could throw his boots at him.

Somewhere Else

When Ghost returned to the room he shared with Roach, the latter wasn't in. The Lieutenant expected this, but he wouldn't go looking for his friend just yet. He might as well let the bug do his thing for another couple of hours, or at least until he cooled down enough to be approached. It was about 6 in the evening, so he figured he could catch a few winks between now and confronting Roach.

When he tossed his balaclava into the closet, he failed to notice that his black one was missing.

In Which Most Of The Team Is Useless

As soon as he woke up, Ghost was out and about to locate the Sergeant. By now, the majority of the squad was probably sleeping. The first place the brunette checked was the break room, but the only occupant was Archer, slumped over the table and snoring audibly. Ghost left with an understanding that Toad was likely to be one of the worst roommates in the world.

After a few minutes of half-hearted searching by himself, Ghost resorted to asking around. He freely made his way into Royce and Meat's room and questioned them about Roach's whereabouts, but both men were more asleep than they were awake and gave the Lieutenant jumbled, inexplicit answers as a result.

Rook and Worm's door was locked. Ghost knocked it down anyway, only to find that neither man knew where Roach was. He promptly put the door back on the hinges and left.

Scarecrow and Ozone gave different answers, and began to argue in that event.

"Think I saw him go to the break room after we all left." The latter mumbled.

Scarecrow shook his head at this. "No, man, I'm pretty sure he's in the locker room."

"Why would he be in the locker room?"

"Well, why the hell would he be in the break room?"

Ghost departed midway through their bickering.

He skipped Toad's room altogether.

His last resort was MacTavish's room. He rapped his knuckles on the door, mildly surprised to see Price standing there instead. "What?" He grunted. Ghost, now aware he had disturbed the captain's beauty sleep, decided to take this quicker than he had with the others. "I'm looking for Roach. Have you seen him?" He asked carefully. Price squinted and turned his head to look down the hall, jutting his chin in the indicated direction. "Last I heard, he was at the range with Soap."

Ghost thanked him and left before Price's animosity could drip onto his shoes.

Tearing It Up

Ghost ventured out to the firing range in no time. He spotted Roach crouched in a booth and made to move for him before a hand put itself on his shoulder and pulled him back.

"You'd be better off staying out of his sight until tomorrow, mate." MacTavish warned in a low voice. Ghost turned to look at him, cocking a brow. "Why?" The Scotsman pointed out down the range at Roach's chosen target, Ghost's eyes following suit.

The flat plank had a black, skull-patterned balaclava slipped over the head and "TWAT" spray-painted in lambent red over the rest of it.

Ghost wasn't amused.

MacTavish chuckled at his second-in-command's expression and nodded toward Roach's booth. "Tearing it up, that one is. He hit all the vital spots dead-on." Ghost supposed he should've been happy that he played a part in his friend's improvement.

The officers turned to acknowledge the sudden appearance of the discussed blonde. Roach stared at Ghost with an outlandish expression, grip tightening on the M4A1 in his hands. The Lieutenant started to say something, but was stopped by the other man lowering the gun and pointing it at him, mumbling unintelligible words. "Pardon?" Ghost inquired.

"I said get the hell out of my way before I shoot your John off."

Simon snorted. "You wouldn't dare."

Roach remained still for a spell, his face maintaining an uncharacteristic blankness, before lifting the gun and wordlessly making his way around the two men.

They quietly watched the Sergeant as he left. Ghost inclined his head toward MacTavish when Roach's back was out of sight. "I'm willing to bet he didn't shoot because you were here." He commented. MacTavish laughed. "Too right," He replied, glancing sideways at the Lieutenant. "You're really going to try fixing him?"

Ghost paused for a moment, then nodded. "Sure. Figure I owe him one. I'm just paying my dues as a good mate."

MacTavish dipped his chin and laughed again, walking after Roach with his arms folded across his chest. "If you say so, Ghost. If you screw up, though, I won't be around to stop him from shooting you."

Ghost accepted that as a risk he was willing to take.

Sorry, But Not Really

"Roach?"

'Don't turn around. You're sleeping.'

"You awake, bug?"

"No."

"…You just said that out loud."

'Damnit.'

Roach reluctantly turned over to look at Ghost standing in the doorway, narrowing his eyes. "Need something?"

Ghost shrugged. "Not that I'm currently aware of. Just wanted to check up on you."

The blonde scoffed, turning back around and burying his face in the pillow. "Thanks. Later."

Ghost scowled, but remained standing in his spot. If he somehow angered Roach again, he didn't want to be within leaping distance of the man. "Sorry for pushing it, bug," Roach tutted from his bed. Ghost added a quiet, "But not really."

Roach's head snapped around so quickly that the Lieutenant was impressed he didn't give himself whiplash. "'Scuse me?"

Simon made an indifferent gesture. "Well, I don't regret anything I did," He explained evenly, despite the Sergeant's worsening demeanor. "But I really am sorry."

Gary turned his torso and propped himself up on his elbows, furrowing his brow. "Seriously?"

"Swear on my life, mate."

He pondered Ghost's answer and the sincerity of his words. It wasn't like a true apology meant much to him at this point, but he had to give the man some credit, both as his best friend and his superior officer. Roach didn't normally hold a grudge for too long, and he figured Ghost wouldn't be an exception to that principle. Not yet, anyway.

"Okay. Apology accepted."

Ghost smiled casually and closed the door behind him, kicking his boots off and tipping his sunglasses up to rest on his head. Roach watched him meticulously as he made his way around the room, finally slipping into the bathroom and closing the door after him. Gary squinted and put his head back down on his pillow, exhaling a slow breath. He knew about the week off Shepherd had given the team, but wasn't very particularly interested in spending it out. He didn't want to go home, because if he was ever to return, he made it a point to stay at least a month or go back in a casket. He used the daunting latter thought as a reminder to write to his mother one of these days.

The Lieutenant reappeared with his gear in hand, carelessly tossing it into their shared closed and wandering toward the bunk. He offered Roach the same blasé smile as he hoisted himself up on the higher mattress and out of sight. "Sleep tight, bug." He crooned. Roach sniffed, raising his leg and nudging the mattress with his heel. "You too, Ghost."

He turned over on his side and shut his eyes, determined to get to sleep as soon as possible knowing that if he slept in too late, someone was bound to wake him up by whatever crude method they would come up with at the time. His appreciation for the amount of time he spent sleeping was reasonably emphasized since he joined the Task Force.

Thirty minutes, give or take, passed by in comfortable silence. Roach's consciousness was ready to slip out for the rest of the night before he was pulled back into vague motility by his good pal Ghost.

"Oi, Roach."

He grimaced into his pillow and shifted his head upward, eyes still closed. "What?"

"You never answered when I asked if you were gay."

His foot collided with the bunk so violently in a forceful kick that he heard the Lieutenant spit a lengthy string of curses under his breath and spotted a hand fly to the side of the mattress and grip tightly.

Ghost clammed up for the rest of the night and Roach fell asleep with a satisfied smirk on his face.

A/N: SOOOOO, not much happened here. Just some transition filler and what have you. Next chapter'll get to the good stuff, I promise. :D