A note from Sassy: This fic is a slash, so if you don't like that, don't read. I should probably also warn that there will be a fair bit of swearing.
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.
Base Camp, a dull, grey and cloudy Tuesday. The black tarmac of the base was slick with rain water, a permanent haze surrounding everyone and everything. Lights glowed within the gloom like bright smudges and the constant patter of mist like rain against metal seemed to be everywhere.
Aside from the odd dripping leak in the roof, the firing range provided a welcome shelter from the torrents of rain. Inside, Soap Mactavish was firing relentlessly down range, the beating of live rounds against targets a steady baseline against the drizzle.
The gun clicking empty, Soap let out a frustrated growl, cursing the device needlessly. He span round to the table behind him, reaching for another clip of ammunition and snapping into the hand gun.
"John?" The sudden voice made Soap jump out of his skin, and he instantly kicked himself for being so unaware of his surroundings. The voice was without a doubt Ghost's his accent so thick and gruff in comparison with his characteristically silent movement. Regardless Soap chose not to reply, instead finishing loading the gun and turning back around so that he had his back fully to Ghost. "Shepherd wants to speak to you."
"Why?"
"He wants a debrief."
"He can wait." Soap replied quickly, levelling his gun and firing a solitary shot.
"He said it was urgent…"
"I said…" Soap punctuated his words with two more shots, each hitting their targets dead centre. "…that he can wait." He glanced over his shoulder. "Hear me this time?"
"He's not going to like it…"
"You know…" Soap paused, firing quickly until the gun clicked empty again. He glanced at it, grunting in disgust before tossing it carelessly aside. This time he turned around to face Ghost, and as he did so he was certain to make eye contact. "Shepherd might not care that we lost three men yesterday…but I do."
"It's not his fault, John."
"Then whose is it?" Soap laughed darkly. "Shepherd gave us that intel knowing that it was scratchy at best…"
"And we've been on ops with bad intel before…" Ghost swallowed hard, refusing to be intimidated. He stepped forward slowly as if to assert this fact. "We made a mistake…we will always make mistakes."
"Mistakes are beyond the 141."
"With respect sir…now you sound like Shepherd."
"Maybe you're right…" Soap shook his head softly, glancing around, suddenly unable to look Ghost in the eye. His fists clenched in frustration and his jaw set, Soap spoke again, except this time his voice was weaker, unsure. "It's my fault isn't it?"
"No…"
"Then who's is it? Because three men died needlessly…three of my men."
"We all know the risks, John…" Ghost stepped forward, a hesitant hand reaching forward and slowly gripping his right shoulder. "And we all know that ops go wrong… Sometimes…it's just how it is."
"How it is…" Soap said the words softly, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them again he found his gaze fixed on Ghost's hand, the contact suddenly feeling too strong, so powerful. Almost suffocating. He didn't deserve Ghost's sympathy, and he definitely didn't need him to be so close, especially when his own raw, true emotions were so exposed. Ghost was there, trying to share command, to help carry Soap's burden if only for a few minutes. But that wasn't right. Command existed for a reason. It was a sole responsibility, not meant to be shared.
So Soap did the only thing that he could. He pushed Ghost away.
"You think you know it all, don't you, Riley?" Soap snarled, pulling away from his hand. "But trust me…this can go one of two ways. You can either lose enough men to stop caring like Shepherd or you can turn into…" He shook his head and spread his arms, unable to define himself any further, if at all. "But I'm the CO, if men die then I'm the one who should have gotten them out alive!"
"You can't blame yourself…"
"Who else is there?" Soap laughed again, his tone harsher this time. "Their families will need someone to blame…and I'm the right target."
"You need to stop this!" Ghost half yelled back, his voice raw with frustration. "You think you're going to be able to lead anyone like this?"
"No…what I need Riley, is a lieutenant who doesn't try giving me orders." Soap took a decisive step forward, squaring up against Ghost using the slight height difference to his advantage. "Because I think you've forgotten who you're talking to…"
"Gentlemen…" A different, much older voice sounded out through the firing range, and both men span round, only to be faced by the unfazed features of General Shepherd, his piercing eyes flicking from one man to the other quickly. When he was content that he had their undivided attention the General spoke again. "When you've finished your little power struggle I'd like a word, Mactavish."
"Sir." Soap nodded quickly, stepping past Riley without a second glance. "We were finished here anyway." Fortunately for them both, Ghost's mask neatly hid his pained features from view, the sheer cutting ability of his words lost on Soap…
A week later, Ghost still insisted on speaking with Mactavish only when he really needed to or when they needed to keep up appearances around the other men. To Mactavish it was a bitter blow. With a couple of misplaced words he had managed to shatter the one thing that kept him sane within the 141. The one thing that gave him some perspective.
The white light at the end of the tunnel. It truly existed, as it was there, a burningly bright, artificial light that seemed to tear through his eyelids. Soap's skin was cold, goose pimpled, the hairs standing on end. The complete sense of disorientation was almost intolerable, maddening. He tried to prise open his eyes but they wouldn't listen, as if his eyelashes had been tethered down together. His movements were restricted, his arms and legs confined. He wanted to run, to at least shield his eyes from the horrific light, but there was no escape. He was alone, well and truly lost amongst the light.
"John?...Hey…its alright…you're safe, alright?" That voice. It was there again, that heavy cockney accent that had been missing from his world for little over a year. There were hands on his shoulders, stilling his movements. The contact was something constant for Soap to fix onto, and slowly he lay still, allowing his lungs to take in a deep and full breath. The oxygen rush felt as if it had his head spinning, but somewhere within him, Soap found the energy to open his eyes, squinting through the light. The world suddenly came into focus, slowly at first, until a distinct black silhouette formed before his very eyes. Ghost… As soon as his eyes were open the hands on his shoulders were gone in an instant.
"You're…" He spoke out softly, but his mouth was impossibly dry and so the sound came out as more of a croak.
"Simon…remember?" He heard a soft, sarcastic laugh leave Ghost's lips. "Don't tell me I'm that easy to forget?"
"…Dead." Soap finished his sentence regardless, his brain playing catch up. He would have liked to say it a lot more eloquently, but his body felt numb and heavy, his head included.
"Alive…" Riley shook his head, leaning back in the steel chair where he was now sitting by Soap's bedside, clearly uncomfortable. "Or do you really think the world is so fucked up that someone like me would become your guardian angel?"
"Funny…" Soap groaned, slowly lifting his right hand, only to be reminded of one of his injuries by the sharp twinge of pain. On closer inspection his hand was heavily bandaged around the palm, his arm playing host to at least two I.V tubes. He visibly shuddered. If there was one thing on this earth that scared him absolutely shitless, it was hospitals.
"You're back at Nikolai's base…" Ghost nodded quickly, glancing around them. He laughed again when Soap remained silent. "Nice place you've got here…bit too cave like for me though."
"How… long was I out?"
"A while. You blacked out on me back at the base, then when we got you here you were pretty doped up on pain meds." Ghost saw the instant look of horror on Soap's face. "Relax, mate…we're talking hours here, not days. I was here the whole time."
"Y-you were?"
"Yeah well…" Riley paused, clearing his throat as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. "What else can I do? Sit here and babysit the corpse or go and face Price's million and one questions? It's hardly a tough decision."
"Not a corpse…" For one impossible second Soap felt a smile briefly flicker across his features. Sick of craning his neck to look at Ghost, he made a doomed attempt to sit up, but in his weakened state he merely wriggled painfully on the mattress. He gave Ghost a woeful look, his pride gone in seconds. "Help me sit up…"
"I don't think-"
"Just do it…" Soap groaned. "You're supposed to be babysitting me after all right?"
"They warned me that the medication might make you grumpy…" Riley moved forwards, his hands working their way under Soap's arms, the contact so warm through the thin medical shirt that he'd been forced to wear. "Obviously they don't know you well enough yet…" He adjusted his grip, looking at Soap through his mask as if for permission. "You realise this is probably gonna hurt. A lot."
"Fucking get on with it."
It might have been years of being in the Army or simply a part of who he was, but Soap had never been one to show pain unless it was absolutely necessary. And as Ghost hauled him up the bed by his arms and adjusted the pillows behind him it was no different. His body might have felt like he was on fire, but that certainly didn't mean that he planned on showing even the slightest sign of it aside from a sharp intake of pain. After all, he'd lost most of his pride simply asking for help, he sure as hell wasn't going to lose what remained in any hurry.
In took a few minutes for Soap's body to adjust, and within that time the room was plunged into a tension filled silence. Riley leant back in his chair, seemingly reluctant to make conversation and yet Soap felt as if he was brimming with questions that he didn't have the awareness or even the energy to ask. And yet as time went on, the questions seemed to build, a loud and heavy presence within his skull. To make matters worse, there was so much that Soap wanted to say, so many things that he needed to say. But even if he could, he wasn't even sure that he had the words to try…
"Simon…" The sudden croak of Soap's voice caused Ghost to jump.
"Yeah?"
"I…" Licking his dry lips in an attempt to stall, John desperately tried to form some semblance of order within his head. "…Need to say…something."
"What?" Ghost was almost instinctively leaning forwards. He tilted his head to one side, staring at Soap intently.
"I just think-"
"So…" As if on cue, Price's authoritative tone erupted into the room. Both men glanced quickly to the door of the room, where the Captain was stood, leaning against the doorframe, a small smile across his features. He nodded to Soap. "Still alive then?"
"Looks like it." Soap managed to croak.
"Then let's keep it that way." Price laughed softly.
"Sir."
"Speaking of which…" The older man nodded to Ghost. "I'm going to need to borrow your nurse. Riley?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I think its time for a debrief. A very long debrief."
"Of course, sir." Reluctantly Ghost rose from his seat and strode across the small room to the doorway, where he ducked past Price, barely even pausing to look back to Mactavish. Price however lingered, nodding to Soap with an almost fatherly look of pride. "You need rest, Soap. I know you don't like it but that's an order. You've always been pretty good at following those." He didn't wait for Soap to make any attempt to reply.
Once again finding his surroundings engulfed in silence, Soap slid down in his bed again, relishing the warmth he found beneath the sheets. The pain hammering away in the front of his forehead was beginning to be too strong to ignore, and at least if he closed his eyes the light from the room didn't seem to pierce his brain as much. Sleep suddenly felt a very welcome release, not only from his weakened state, but from the onslaught of questions and conflicting emotions that were running through his head at break neck speed.
After all, Ghost was back. And with him he had unearthed a whole spectrum of emotion that Soap had spent the last year desperately trying to forget…
So I accidentally wrote a double chapter here, so I hope no one minds if it goes on a little too much. Either way, I just wanted to say again that I'm so grateful for all the lovely feedback and subscriptions I have received so far! They really do keep me so motivated. :) Thank you for reading, and if you have time to review I would very much appreciate that too.
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