Disclaimer: I do not own Call of Duty, it belongs to Infinity Ward.
A/N: Sorry for the delay, I forgot to post the story.
Chapter Three
The haggis with neeps and tatties are already done and served. MacTavish and Price are quietly having lunch together. More than an hour has passed since Price came to intrude and cook for the Scot.
"It tastes good." MacTavish gave his compliment, remembering just how great the Brit could cook.
The man on the other end of the table smiled. "Of course it does."
The atmosphere was kind of awkward, sitting there and having lunch together with his ex. But he does miss him a lot, it made him happy that Price came over to visit him. Ever since the break up, the old man has only called and visited him for a few short times, never longer than an hour, to check on him. Although he himself was the reason for their break up, he just couldn't help but always think about him.
Price cleared his throat, feeling as awkward as MacTavish does. He tried to create something to talk with. "So how's things going?"
The other shrugged. "Like what?"
The older man also gave back a shrug, adding pursed lips and raised eyebrows trying to imitate the younger one cheekily, MacTavish laughed at how stupid Price's face looked. "Well, Roach is up and kicking again. I went to visit him today. He's still the little Roach we all know, nothings changed." Finally came his reply with a small smile.
The man nodded, happy to see his 'friend' smiling. Swallowing his food down before talking again, he asked, "So... how are you feeling?" Although it was already quite visible just how the other felt, he still wanted to ask. Maybe, he was hoping that MacTavish was feeling better than he gives away.
MacTavish's fingers twitched. How does he feel? Of course he feels like shit. One could tell by simply looking at him. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. He knew that Price was just concerned about him, but that was a useless question to ask him. "I feel the exact same way, the way that I look right now." Was his roundabout answer.
Price hummed, saying nothing more. The man cringed inwardly, it was a stupid mistake on his end for asking something like that.
The older man was finished eating and so was MacTavish. They remained seated at the table staring at each other in silence for hours, which were in reality just a few minutes, before finally going back to the kitchen to clean their dishes. They both wanted to talk with each other, but they were afraid of what might slip out of their mouths and ruin the peaceful mood they are having at the moment.
As they were doing the dishes MacTavish felt a smile slowly widening on his lips. It felt like the old days when they were still together. Price washing the plates and he, standing besides him drying and returning them, like they used to after every meal they had.
Price chuckled, noticing the smile on MacTavish's face. "What are you dumbly smiling about?" He poked the other one with his bubble covered finger on his face.
"Hey! Now I've got soap on my beard." MacTavish frowned while the other laughed at him. This gave the Scot an evil idea. He scoped out a handful of foam from the sink, while the Brit was still busy laughing his ass off to notice what the younger one was doing, he quickly smeared it on Price's face. Leaving the older one speechless and covered in white.
As if turning back to being children again, they played around with the soap, hitting each other with the bubbles to get revenge. Their battle was fierce and intense, it lasted quite a while and as they were done playing around, they and the whole kitchen looked really messy. But they just laughed it off like the good old times. They then started to clean the kitchen.
MacTavish stared at the other, who was fully concentrated on his job. He smirked, now that he had taken a better look at Price. "You look like Santa."
The older man quickly wiped away the fake beard. Smirking back at him. "So do you."
"Come on, I'm not that old yet." He retorted, laughing with him after a little while later.
After almost a month passed since their break up, they have now just started to act like real friends like they initially intended to. The friendship thing was easier said than done, because they still have feelings for each other. It is impossible to be just friends without feeling anything towards the other every time they do something together. It just makes their feelings grow stronger.
"Do have any plans for Saturday next week? Maybe we could get dinner or something." The conversation took turn to something a little more serious as Price asked. He knew he shouldn't get too close to him, because it would only hurt the younger one all over again, but he just couldn't resist. The Brit felt a little embarrassed as MacTavish just stared at him. He unconsciously scratched his neck, feeling a little nervous, like its the first time he's asking him out for dinner. "Well, if you've got plans its okay... Its fine if you say no."
MacTavish bit his lip, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He would really love to but he already promised Ghost that they would have dinner together on Saturday. The Scot shook his head. "Sorry, I've got plans for that day. I'll be having dinner with Ghost."
The Brit looked a bit surprised. Why Ghost of all people? He didn't know that the both of them became friendly. To tell the truth he felt jealous of Ghost. "I see." Was his simple low-toned reply. The fact that he's going with Ghost unsettles him. He heard weird rumors about the man, bad ones to be precise. He was reluctant to let MacTavish go, but he wasn't his lover anymore. He had no say in the matter. At most, he could only warn him about the other. "Soap, you should be careful around him." He said, giving a stern look to express his worry.
MacTavish smiled, ignoring his warning. "Don't worry, Price. He's a good guy. People just misunderstand him a lot, that's why. You'll see when you get to know him."
The older man sighed. He tried, but he need not to worry about him. He knows very well that MacTavish would keep his warning in mind. They finished up cleaning everything in the kitchen, it looked so shiny like brand new. They both gave satisfied sighs. Price looked at his watch. So much time has passed since he arrived, he needed to get going.
MacTavish noticed a slight change in the man's face as he was looking at his watch. "Leaving, already?" The question sounded a bit down.
"Yeah." They made their way to the door. "I've still got things to do." Price said as he wore his jacket.
"Hey, old man?" The Scot handed him his brown bonnie hat.
The older man stared at him, humming in question while putting the hat on.
MacTavish gave him a sincere smile. "Come visit me again." It was more of a request than a question.
A gentle smile grew from the Brit's lips. "Sure. I'll come again." With that said, Price left the house and disappeared into the cold outside world behind the door.
The door was once more closed. It felt lonely again. MacTavish dragged himself to the couch, lying down on his back, facing the ceiling. He felt somehow very, very tired. He closed his eyes, trying to give them a little rest.
-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-
Loud laughter came from the living room downstairs, which awoken the young MacTavish sleeping in his room upstairs. It was past midnight, yet why was it so loud? The noise made him get up from his bed to check it. While carrying his precious friend Flippy, which was a green teddy bear wearing a camouflage jacket, he silently walked down the stairs with stealth. As he almost reached the bottom the voices became clearer. He heard a deep Scottish accented voice and as he peeked around the corner, he saw the familiar figure of a tall, muscular man.
"Dad!" He shouted running towards the man with a huge smile going from ear to ear.
The man, which the young MacTavish called 'dad' laughed and kneeled down to catch the child in his strong arms, lifting him up. "John!" The man said, happy to see his only child.
"I've missed you so much, dad!" MacTavish hugged him tighter.
His father was a soldier, who came home very seldom in a year, because of were he was deployed. The young MacTavish and his mother would be the only ones at their home. It was saddening that the father couldn't spend much time with them, but a job was a job. He had his responsibility and duty as a soldier of his country.
"How long are you going to stay this time?" The youngest asked, eyes full of hope. Awaiting it to be longer than last time.
The father smiled, lifting young MacTavish higher in the air. "Two weeks!"
His smile grew even more, it wasn't enough to express how happy he was. His small hands reached his father's face, giving the man a kiss on the cheek and hugged him around the neck.
Two weeks gone by quickly for a child, it all happened like a flash. Things went back to normal again, when the father left. The memories he shared together with his precious family, being whole again left him all warm and in a good mood for quite a while. The stories about the wonderful and sad things the father saw in his job of which he told his son every night before going to sleep, encouraged young MacTavish even more to become a soldier just like his dad. That was the part of what MacTavish considered to be his good childhood before everything shattered. Because like they say, every good thing comes with something bad in return.
About two weeks passed and the bad news reached the family's ears. The man who they spent time together with for the past two weeks, died. Like a snap of the finger, quickly, he was shot during a mission in the middle east. They mourned his death, the death of a husband, father and hero. He had not been forgotten even after years. They haven't gotten over it. Time stuck for the young MacTavish and his mother, just like a broken clock. They were used to being just the two of them in the house, but it was different when you know a part of the family isn't coming home again.
By the time MacTavish went to high-school, he was faced with a question of what he wanted to be. A soldier. That was his dream. He had never spoken about it since the death of his father, as if buried together with the man, almost forgotten. He was afraid to bring it up at home, he didn't know what his mother would say about it. So one day, MacTavish asked to talk with her. They were sitting in the living room, facing each other.
"Mom?" The voice was a little hesitant.
"What is it, John?" The mother asked with a gentle voice, noticing the nervousness of her son.
"In school, we were asked by the teacher what we wanted to be." MacTavish started, then inhaled deeply. "You know, I've already dreamt about it and said it over a million times since I was a child." A small pause, he bit his lip, not daring to look at his mother. "Mom, I want to be soldier." The word barely came out.
The mother looked at her son, terrified. "John, my son. Please, don't." She begged, hugging him. "Please don't do this to me!" She cried, her body trembling in fear. She held her son tightly in her arms, as though if she were to let go of him, he would go somewhere far away. "We've already lost you're father!" Her voice shaky. "I can't take it if you were to be gone too!" She repeatedly shook her head, not wanting that to happen.
MacTavish warped his arms around her, rubbing her back, trying to comfort her. His mother was a frail woman when it comes to him, too easy to shatter. The death of her husband left a deep scar in her, almost traumatizing. He was all that she has left. MacTavish loved his mother more than anything in this world. He was unwilling to hurt her in any form. He wanted to protect her in his father's stead. And if giving up his dream would make his mother happy, then he is willing to let it go. "I'm sorry, mom. If you don't want it, then I'll be something else, alright? I promise, I won't become a soldier." Although it hurt him to give his dream up, he made the promise anyway.
The years have quickly passed and MacTavish finally graduated from high-school. But then another terrible thing happened. His mother was hospitalized and diagnosed to have a brain tumor in its last stages. Apparently his mother has been hiding it from him for the last few months. She knew she would die eventually, so she refused any kind of treatment. She wanted to be the strong mother MacTavish remembers when she dies, she wanted her son to look at her as a mother who he can rely on and she didn't want MacTavish to take care of her because she wants her son to experience a good youth, without worries.
As the mother spoke her last words in her dying breath, MacTavish kept blaming himself. He saw her everyday, so how could he have not noticed it? Kneeling down on his knees beside her bed, he was crying and asking for forgiveness for not taking better care of her.
She lifted her hand and reached for her son's face, wiping the tears away. "John, it's not your fault. Please don't cry." Her lovely voice sounded hoarse. Her breathing was slow and deep. She was thin, she was pale, she was crying.
"Mother." He took her hand into his own, forcing a smile which won't form. "You know, mom." He caressed her face with his other hand. "You are the best mother in the world. You taught me a whole lot of things about life. You were always there when I was troubled, you always knew how to make me smile. You were always there to take care of me when I was sick. I always admired how cool you were and how you kept things together." His mother smiled while tears were falling down. "I'm sorry, mom. For always being messy and lazy. I'm sorry that I left you at home many times, to wander somewhere else. I'm sorry for not always being there with you. I'm sorry for everything I've done wrong." MacTavish kissed the forehead of his mother. "Mom. Thank you and I love you very, very much." He was finally able to get the smile right, though it was a bit crooked at each end of his mouth.
"I love you too... John." Her eyes closed, her breathing slowly stopped, her body slowly losing force. Her heartbeat monitor peeped loudly, never stopping.
MacTavish cried, hugging her, calling for her, his last family.
The doctor and nurses tried to wake her up again from her never-waking slumber. They stopped until the doctor finally spoke. "Time of death: nineteen forty-two."
-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-
MacTavish jerked up, screaming as he woke up from his dream of the past. He was out of breath and unable to think as the tears continued to fall down from his eyes. It has gotten darker outside, his paranoid feeling has returned. Panicking, he quickly searched for the medication on the messy table, which was prescribed by the doctor, he took a pill more than what was advised and swallowed it. Moments later he calmed down a bit but his head hurt like hell and he felt dizzy. He was about to lay back down on the couch when all of a sudden his mobile phone rang. The screen displayed Ghost's name.
He cleared his throat. "Hello?" He said after picking up.
MacTavish's hoarse voice was still clearly audible on the other end of the phone. "You alright there, mate?" Ghost asked, obviously worried for him.
"Aye, everything's fine."
The Brit was unsure of the other's answer. He knows that something was wrong with him, and so thought maybe he could open him up by pestering him a little more. "You sure? 'Cos you don't hear like it."
"Yeah, no problem here." The older one said firmly and reassuring to avoid being bothered some more by his friend. He then immediately changed the subject, centered around the one who called. "Why'd you call, Ghost?"
Based on the Scot's tone of his first sentence, Ghost knew right away that the other didn't want to talk about it, so he just moved with the flow. "Well, I wanted to ask you if you want to get a drink or two with me?"
'A drink' MacTavish thought. He could really use one right now and some company would be good too. It didn't take him a minute to decide before saying yes.
"Cool, should I pick you up then? I'm on the way anyway and I know a good place." Ghost said, voice filled with happiness.
The other couldn't help but smile, hearing Ghost excitement through the phone. "Yeah, just give me a call when you're here."
"Alright, I'll be there in about fifteen minutes so get ready." And with that they ended the call.
A/N2: If anyone asks. Yes, young MacTavish's teddy bear was Flippy from Happy Tree Friends. I'll be writing a fan-fic about him too in the near future.
There won't be a new chapter next week, because I'm going on a class trip to the capital for a week. I won't have access to my Laptop to write a new chapter, since we would be allover the place for touring and sight seeings. So see you next, next week!