Warning! This fic is 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. The lyrics at the beginning are also not mine, they belong to White Lies.

A note from Sassy: Just wanted to say another huge thank you to everyone who is reading/reviewing/favouriting this story! You're making writing it such a pleasure for me right now! A special mention to:

VerityA: I'm afraid I can't bring back Roach for you (not in this story anyway) but I am going to make a special effort to bring in as many references to him as possible for you. :)

Reeserella: I'm honoured by all your reviews! And I'm sorry for scaring you, but I couldn't kill off Soap. Even I'm not that cruel :P

Greenyfox: Thank you so much for your compliments! I'm trying to update as soon as possible too. And don't worry about your spelling, it was perfect. :)

"I wish I could say that I've got no regrets
But saying that would be one more to pile on my desk."

It had been three weeks. "The Incident" was what General Shepherd preferred to call it. However if Soap had to call it anything, he'd have dubbed it "The Failure".

But that just wasn't how things worked. He was expected to move on, forget what had come before and look to the future of the task force, of his men. Be strong and just get over it. After all, Shepherd had summed it up perfectly, "Men are always going to die, Mactavish."

It wasn't the first time that Soap had lost men whilst being in command. Throughout his military career he'd lost friends, brothers, commanding officers as well others of his rank. He sometimes even wondered why he had managed to survive when others had not. The incident on the bridge with Zakhaev still haunted him. So many of the good men who fought equally bravely beside him had died, and to this day he replayed the moment in his thoughts over and over. If he hadn't fallen then maybe Griggs might have lived, or if he'd been quicker maybe he could have just been in time to save Gaz. It was all so long ago, and yet the gut wrenching feeling of sheer guilt was still as fresh as it had ever been. He might not have been responsible, but he still lived where they had died.

He really wasn't a sentimental man. He didn't really keep souvenirs, or hang onto physical memories. He didn't even particularly like photographs. But since Zakhaev, he had kept one single keepsake. A leather bound black book, small enough to slip discreetly in the breast pocket of his shirt. The outside was stained, battered and slightly torn. But the contents, the pages inside were as pristine as if it had only just been bought. And on these pages was simply a list. A single column in clear black ink, each name written as clearly as his handwriting would allow. All names of people who he had either served with or who had served under him. All dead.

He would remember them.

The names began to build, not just in the book, but in his head. With every new name added to that list, the burden of his command became that little heavier. It hadn't been noticeable at first, but over time it grew and grew, chipping away at his confidence. Sometimes he just didn't feel capable of leading these men anymore…

He was spiralling down a thought process that he didn't want to go down right then, and so Soap reached for the whisky bottle that sat on the top of his desk, unscrewing the top quickly and taking a long, deep pull from the bottle. It was a 16 year old single malt whisky, but for all he cared it could have been liquid fire there, crackling down his throat. He spluttered slightly, leaning back in his desk chair and revelling in the heavy warmth that spread down through his torso. His Da would be turning in his grave if he knew about this blatant waste of such a good quality whisky, but Soap shrugged the feeling off quickly. The inferno that enveloped his every sense just felt so fucking good.

Feeling calmer now, Soap lit himself a cigarette and took a deep drag, loving the instant kick from the nicotine that now mixed with his slightly intoxicated bloodstream. A smile passed across his features as he exhaled, and after a shorter second drag he let the cigarette smoulder in his left hand as he glanced back down to the abandoned, open file that lay on his desk. Another new recruit, although to be more accurate he was more a replacement. Gary Sanderson, a guy who was fresh out of the SAS after only six months within the regiment and soon to be fast tracked to the 141.

Soap sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette. He was hardly old himself, but the fresh recruits Shepherd seemed intent on sending him made him feel practically ancient.

"Sir?" A knock at his office door startled Soap, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow, his gaze drawn upwards. He stayed silent, knowing full well that the voice belonged to Ghost and yet unsure of what to do. There was another knock. "Sir?"

"…Yeah?"

"I saw your light was on…"Ghost's masked face appeared around the door, his voice more nervous than Soap had heard in a long time. "Working late?"

"I work late a lot these days."

"Right…" Ghost nodded softly. "Can I…help at all?"

"No."

"Great…" Sighing slightly, Riley craned his head around the door a little more, trying to meet with Soap's gaze. "Come on, John…I'm trying to offer a fucking olive branch to you here. Give me something to work with…"

"Fine..." Stubbing out his cigarette, Soap gestured for Riley to come in with his free hand, trying to ignore the feeling of relief now washing over him. He'd wanted to talk to Riley much sooner than this, but his pride had stopped him from being the one to make the first move. "And close the door."

"Sir." Doing as he was told, Simon entered the room, pulling a chair up to Soap's desk and sitting opposite him. He nodded to the open file on the desk. "New recruit?"

"Looks like it."

"Do you mind if I…?" Riley was already reaching for the file as he asked.

"Not at all." Soap watched as the other man scanned the document, flicking casually through all the pages before speaking again.

"He's not bad. Another SAS boy then?"

"Yeah…there's a few of us now." Soap laughed slightly. "Cocky bastard's beaten my time in the assault course though…"

"But not mine." Ghost laughed, nudging Soap's arm quickly. For a second Soap laughed with him, until the room was engulfed into an awkward, tension filled silence. Both men seemed unwilling to speak, yet Ghost was the first to give in. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"You know what." Riley nodded, his voice soft. "I was out of line. And I'm sorry."

"And I wasn't?"

"Benefit of command. You're never wrong." He tried to soften the comment with a laugh, but it fell heavy on them both.

"We both know that's not true." Soap shrugged. He reached up, rubbing at his sore eyes why he paused to think. "Do we have to do this?"

"Do what?"

"The whole 'I was wrong' thing."

"Well so far only I've admitted to being wrong…"

"You know what I mean, Riley." Soap bit his lip. "Can't we just…forget?"

"Maybe." Eyes scanning the desktop, Ghost's gaze fell upon Soap's opened bottle of whisky. "Give me some of that and I can forget a lot…"

A couple of swigs of whisky turned into a conversation. A conversation turned into a half arsed game of poker, which mainly involved a lot of swearing and the throwing of cards across the desk. Soap hadn't played in what felt like an age, but he had the deck of cards lying around which Riley had spotted almost instantly. He'd sworn on his honour that he was useless at poker himself, but half an hour in Soap knew that he'd been lying. Ghost definitely knew what he was doing.

The alcohol helped though. A lot. Soap could almost feel each new slug of whisky dull his senses that little but more, helping him regain a little humanity each and every time. Each wave of fiery liquid in his throat was a liberation, giving him a sense of freedom that he very rarely felt when on the base. After all, for a man who was so used to constantly living on a knife edge, simply letting go had become like a rush.

They'd known each other a long time now, but the two men rarely managed to have a conversation, away from their call signs and the 141. They were always just that, Soap and Ghost, military shadows of two different men. But that night there weren't any call signs. They swapped stories of their lives, anecdotes from before the Army or when they were on leave. They came out of the shadows and were themselves, their true selves, and in the process, this became the first conversation that John Mactavish and Simon Riley had ever truly had.

"Why the mask?" Mactavish suddenly found himself asking, when he had enough alcohol coursing through his system to not stop himself. He half knew the reason, and he'd seen Ghost without his mask, but the sight was still very rare.

"Only just noticed it?" Riley laughed, expertly shuffling the cards, although his hands were visibly clumsier than they had been before. He tried to shrug off the question. "It's hardly new…"

"But we're on the base."

"And that makes a difference because?" Ghost paused, meeting Soap's gaze. "We've all got a mask right? I just wear mine on my face."

"I fucking don't."

"You do." Riley nodded. "More than anyone else. Even Shepherd."

"Really? Explain."

"Not much to explain…You push people away so that they don't complicate things by actually getting to know you."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" Ghost paused. "You've got a mask alright. A strong one too. You want everyone to think that you're ok…even if you're not."

"You trying to analyse me, Riley?" Soap gave him a confused look.

"Depends…am I right?" The other man laughed softly, pushing the pile of upside down cards towards Soap. "It's you to go first."

"…Take it off."

"What?"

"The mask." Soap nodded gently. "And that's an order."

"What?...Why?"

"I want to see you. It's fucking creepy sat in the dark with that skull staring at me."

"Then toughen up." Riley laughed, shaking his head. "The mask stays."

"What have you got to lose?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?" Soap smiled triumphantly. "It's just me, right?"

"If I do…you won't say anything?"

"Ok."

"…Fine…" Ghost rolled his eyes, before reaching for the seam of his mask, gripping the wool tightly. "But just for the record…you can be a real annoying bastard sometimes."

Riley pulled the mask off in a single quick motion, dropping the material down onto his lap and trying as hard as possible to tilt his face away from Soap who seemed to be staring at him intently. And he was. It suddenly had occurred to Mactavish that he really wasn't sure what his lieutenant looked like, and even more disturbingly, he actually wanted to know. He wasn't sure why, but Soap had a sudden fascination with Riley, not just about his life, but about everything, including his appearance. An appearance which was hardly ugly. Cropped blonde hair lead down to a shapely blonde brow, the skin that little bit paler than Soap's. Riley's eyes were blue, a bright, penetrative shade as he stared back at Soap defiantly, his chiselled jaw set within the expression. And then he noticed it. A long scar, thin, as if it had been drawn on with a fine pen. The line followed his face up from his neck, all the way up his right cheek and up to his brow, stalling at the eye socket briefly. Soap grimaced. Whatever it had been caused by, it looked painful.

"That scar…-"

"No." Riley shook his head. "You said you wouldn't say anything."

"Is it why you wear that mask?"

"Partly."

"That's all I get?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Riley sighed. "Really."

"Fine." Soap leant back in his chair, although he kept his gaze fixed on Ghost. "You don't need it though."

"What?"

"Well…you know." He coughed slightly. "You're hardly hideous. To look at I mean…not that I'm the best person to ask…"

"Really?" Riley cocked an intrigued eyebrow. "So you wouldn't mind seeing more of me?"

"What?" Soap spluttered. He was caught off guard and left wondering if he'd heard him correctly. "I never said that…I just meant, that you know, you shouldn't be ashamed or anything."

"Right…" Simon nodded softly, looking down to the cards that now lay forgotten on the desk. "Are you a betting man, John?"

"Why?"

"Just a question." Ghost shrugged. "So…are you?"

"Depends on the odds I guess…" Soap smirked. "I don't really like losing."

"How about fair odds?"

"I'm listening…"

"We each have a pile of cards…" Ghost pointed to the pile sitting in front of Soap. "So we look at the card on top. Whoever has the highest wins. The loser has to pay a forfeit…"

"Forfeit?"

"Yeah…one given to them by the winner."

"Ok…"Soap paused, taking the opportunity to sip at the now almost empty bottle of whisky. "So it's more about how much I trust you if you win than the odds?"

"Pretty much." Riley laughed, laying his hand on top of his card. "Unless you're scared?"

"No chance…" Soap rolled his eyes, before grinning and reaching for his card. "You're on, mate…"

The one of diamonds that Soap uncovered soon wiped the smile from his face. Especially since Riley was laughed and waving an ace of spades triumphantly right I front of his nose to add insult to injury…

"Fuck…"

"Unlucky, mate..." Ghost let out another laugh, this time nudging Soap's elbow so that he'd look at him properly. "Now you're really at my mercy…"

"Just get on with it…" Soap shook his head. He reached for the whisky bottle again. "What's the forfeit?"

"I don't have time to think?"

"I figured that you already had one when you suggested the game."

"So maybe I did…" Ghost smirked, leaning in a little closer. "But you're not going to like it."

"I thought that was the idea?"

"Maybe…" Riley smiled, leaning forwards and laying both palms flat down onto the desk. "Ok…cards on the table. I want you to call me sir."

"You have to be kidding me?"

"No…that's your forfeit."

"It's fucking stupid!"

"It's still your forfeit…" Ghost smirked. "You agreed."

"Too bad…I'm not doing it."

"You have to."

"I don't…"

"Really?" Riley raised an eyebrow, leaning forward again so he could look watch Soap's features more closely. "You can't give up your authority, not even for a second?"

"No."

"And what if you needed to?"

"I don't…"

"But what if you did?"

"Riley!" Soap's voice came out loud and frustrated, and yet inside he was panicking. He knew that it was just a word, that it didn't really matter who he said it to. But it was also a word you had to work for, a word that represented a lot of respect. Saying it was a little like being dominated. And he wasn't sure that he wanted to be the one who was dominated by Riley…

"What?"

"I'm not doing it."

"I'm just asking you to do it once…right? One word. That's all this is."

"Just this once?" Soap leant forwards, worrying his lip. "That's all you want?"

"That's all I want."

"Ok…" Rubbing at his temple briefly, Soap nodded, being sure to keep his eyes locked on Riley's. When he spoke again he was careful to make sure his voice was loud and clear, eyes scrutinising Riley's expression as he did so. "…Sir…"

"Was that so hard?"

"Yeah."

"It shouldn't be." Riley shook his head. "Because it's just me."

"You're my lieutenant…"

"I'm also Simon Riley…remember him?" He laughed softly. "You're really fucking clueless."

"About what?"

"About this." A lightening fast hand darted out, catching Soap under the chin and holding him there, keeping their faces close. Riley studied his Captain's reaction for a moment, watching him open his mouth as if to argue. But he never had the chance. As before he could utter another word, Mactavish's lips were enclosed in a surprisingly tender kiss considering how it had been initiated.

With the first kiss, Soap's heart lost count and skipped a beat. With the second his mind went blank. With the third his lips made the decision for him and kissed Riley back.

It could have been hours or seconds into that kiss, but Riley's hands were suddenly clasping Mactavish's face, pulling him closer across the desk. The strange lips were alien against his own, moving clumsily at first until they both found a rhythm that suited them both. An intense rhythm. It wasn't until Mactavish felt a sly tongue lapping across his lips that he realised that he was being dominated, the thought forcing him to pull away almost instantaneously.

"I…" Soap was dumb founded as leant back in his chair, trying to put as much distance as possible between them. "…What the hell was that?"

"Do you want me to apologise?" Simon questioned, his features remaining blank. "Because I won't either way."

"What I want…" Soap hesitated, subconsciously wiping at his mouth. "…doesn't matter."

"You sure?" Riley replied with a small smirk. "'Cos it didn't feel like that then…"

"Riley…"

"What? I didn't imagine it… you kissed me back…"

"That's not the point."

"I think it is…" Riley shook his head. "Is it that hard for you to admit?"

"I… I think you should leave."

"Now?"

"Now." Soap nodded sternly, watching as the other man stood slowly. He continued to watch him as Riley replaced his mask quickly, his back turned almost painfully. He was almost at the door before Soap spoke again, his voice more threatening this time. "Ghost?"

"What now?"

"I never want to hear about this again? Ever. Understood?"

"Understood." Ghost replied bitterly. He let out a dark laugh, turning his back to Soap completely as he opened the door. "That's my job isn't it, sir? Keeping quiet?"

So…another huge chapter down. What did you think? As always I will love you eternally for any reviews you may give me! :D

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