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.
Note from Sassy: I'm baaack! And after much headdesking, here *finally* is chapter 7. I'm not going to ramble too much about it, but as a warning, it's quite long, so you might want to grab a snack before you start. :P And sticking with tradition, here I go again with replying to all those lovely reviews for chapter six!
Carovinee: Don't worry about it, but thank you so much for the review now! I really am so flattered by your comments to a point where I don't know what to say aside from thank you. I shall keep trying to update once a day. :)
GubbleBum96: Another fuzzy inducing A/N mention for you :) I'm glad you liked Ghost's POV as well. There'll be much more later in the story, (i.e. Chapter 8) but for now its just Soap. Thanks so much for your support.
xGhostxStealth: You'll soon be sick of my cliffhangers I assure you :P But thank you so much! Again I am forced to just sit here and blush. A lot. And what you said about in character means the world to me. Its also my pet peeve (After being over descriptive lol) and I edit my stories so much because the dialogue "isn't quite Soap". Loads of Ghost's cookies for you, and I'll be sure to send you Ghost in the mail too. :P
Dunedain789: Your use of caplocks has made me feel most honoured and very loved, so thank you so much. As long as my characterizations are alright, then I guess I'm doing my job right. :)
VerityA: I think you've gathered by now that I worry too much :P But I agree with the treating characters like real people. This time they were being real people, sat there being awkward and not helping me out in the slightest! Cookies and John + blanket are on their way to you. And of course, I don't need to say how lovely your comment was…you know that right? :)
Reeserella: I should be the one thanking you! Fortunately I have no homework, just a dwindling social life…so its all good :P
Greenyfox: Awww, again you are so very kind! Thank you. :) Soap will be happy…soon. I'm afraid the boys have a bit of angst to work through before they get there though.
Whoa…there were a lot of smiley faces there. Either way, I really hope that this chapter doesn't let you guys down. Enjoy!
Soap wasn't sure when it happened, but somewhere in between his getting shot and the waves of medicated sleep, time had slowed down to an almost standstill. And lying there, alone in the darkness, definitely didn't make him feel better.
He was bored of sickeningly bland purified water and the almost plastic medical shirt that stuck to every inch of his skin. He just wanted his own clothes, some food, maybe even a small sip of some whisky. To be fair he'd settle for anything that had an actual taste. And fuck, what he wouldn't do to get his hands on a cigarette…
Nicotine, alcohol and warmth. It could never be said that John Mactavish didn't enjoy the simple things in life.
Whilst fantasising about chain smoking his way through a full pack of cigarettes, Soap at first failed to spot the skull that appeared through the gloom. The figure was almost effortlessly silent, the door barely making a sound as it was opened and closed. It was only until they drew closer that Soap noticed, jumping painfully in his bed.
"Fucking Christ…" He knew it was Riley, but Soap couldn't stop himself from still hissing out in shock, gripping at the sheets of his bed out of a gut reaction more than anything else. Ghost seemed equally as surprised to be seen too, jumping in his own skin. "Riley?"
"Yeah…" The lieutenant moved forwards, this time so that his silhouette was lit by the small globe of light that emanated from Soap's bedside lamp. He scratched his head awkwardly. "I…thought you'd be asleep."
"Fat chance." Soap rolled his eyes. "I sleep when they want me to." He nodded towards the cannula sticking out from his right forearm. "Price send you?"
"What?"
"You know…Price…stocky, posh, clinically insane?" Soap laughed sarcastically. "Did he send you to check on me?"
"Sort of." Ghost shrugged. "He's asleep."
"What time is it?"
"About 3am."
"Then why aren't you?"
"I'm not tired." Ghost said softly, once again finding that lying was so much easier than the truth. "Do you want me to go? So you can rest…or do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing?" He inched back slightly, already losing his nerve.
"Stay…" At first Soap thought he'd merely thought the word, but on realising that Ghost had stopped stock still, he suddenly realised that he had in fact said it out loud. He cleared his throat quickly, his mind struggling to cover its tracks. "I mean…if you want…No point us both being awake and alone…right?"
"I guess." Ghost nodded softly, walking round his bed to the chair at Soap's bedside and sitting down. He thankfully seemed to have missed the over eager tone that had been in Soap's voice, or if he hadn't he certainly wasn't acknowledging it. "How are you feeling?"
"It's more what I'm not feeling." Soap sighed, shuffling around in his bed so he could better look at Ghost. "I'm on more meds than you can probably name. Keeps the pain down, but that's about it."
"Anything you need?"
"Cigarettes." Soap laughed quickly. "Lots and lots of cigarettes."
"You always smoked too much."
"Yeah, well lemme tell you that now is not the time to be on a fucking detox." Soap rolled his eyes, trying to hide a blatantly visible shiver.
"You're cold?"
"Nothing I can't handle."
"It was a yes or no question, John."
"Fine…so I might be. But it's hardly worth fussing over…Riley?"
"Hang on…" Before Soap could complain further, Riley was standing up, silently dashing out of the room. In the slow minutes that followed, Soap was convinced that he wasn't going to be back, or that when he did return he would be flanked by Nikolai's medic threatening to inject him with something else. But, Riley did return, and this time he had a thick black jacket in his grasp. He approached Soap slowly, holding the jacket out to him in one hand, whilst the other helped the Captain sit up. "Here…put this on…"
"Riley…I…" Soap tried to mumble, but he any protest was ignored as Ghost helped guide his left arm into the jacket. "Shit…watch my I.V!" He gasped, slightly melodramatically as the right sleeve caught the tubes embedded in his arm.
"One minute…" Bending down, Riley retrieved the small pen knife he always kept hidden down his right boot and flicked out the blade, causing Soap to flinch at its sudden glint in the light of the lamp. Carefully Ghost moved the blade into position, forcing a deliberate tear in the sleeve of the jacket, making it wide enough to slip over Soap's forearm and the tubes that lay there with ease. "Better?"
"This is your favourite jacket…" Soap said slowly, glancing from the garment back to Riley as he edged back around the bed to sit down.
"Was…" Ghost smirked. "It was covered in your blood anyway."
"Ohh thanks." Soap quipped sarcastically, although a deep part of him truly meant it. He tried to shrug that part off, silently reminding himself that he had to remain completely self sufficient. "I thought you didn't like 'babysitting the corpse'?"
"I never said I didn't like it." Ghost laughed softly, leaning in closer. "Besides, you're awake now. Less like a corpse."
"Cheers there mate…"
"No problem." Riley grinned from beneath his mask. "You've looked better though." He pretended to take a closer look at the Captain. "A lot better."
"Says the man wearing the mask?" It had meant to be a harmless bit of banter, but instantly Soap could tell that it had struck a chord with Riley, the lieutenant leaning backwards away from him suddenly, his head hanging.
"You've no idea…"
"Riley?" Soap raised a concerned eyebrow. "Am I missing something here?"
"No…" Riley shook his head, his tone flat. "It's me who's missing something."
"You're making no sense."
"Sorry…I've spent a year on my own; you forget how to make conversation." Simon laughed flatly, desperately trying to dispel the tension around him, but it didn't work. He glanced around idly, looking anywhere around the room except directly at Soap. "John…I…" He paused, sighing, his tone frustrated. "I need to show you something."
"Then show me."
"It's not as simple as that…" Riley rolled his eyes. "I am missing something. I'm only…half here."
"Come on, Simon…" Soap sighed softly, his good hand rubbing at his eyes. "I'm half doped up on fucking morphine…I could do without the riddles."
"You're not exactly making this very easy…"
"And you are?" Soap scoffed, although in the pause he rethought his tone, forcing himself to soften it. "Look…I'm sorry ok? You know I'm no good at…well, whatever this is." He gave him a weak smile.
"Neither am I." Riley shrugged slowly. He paused, obviously contemplating his next move, before reaching for his mask. Soap watched, clearly confused, as Riley took in a deep breath, his mouth moving under the thick wool as he breathed. "Oh fuck it…"
What Soap saw stopped him dead. Suddenly a knife to the eye was too good for Shepherd. He should have suffered more, should have been beaten more, beaten until he could no longer breathe, no longer think without a constant agony. He should have been shown the extent of his betrayal, paid for it with hours, days of pain, anguish and torture. A quick blade to the brain was suddenly far too merciful.
The face that Soap saw was still unmistakably Riley's. There was the same crop of blonde hair, the same sturdy jaw line, the same fuller bottom lip. But the skin…Soap grimaced, letting out a slight hiss of breath. He wasn't horrified by what he saw, but more by what Riley must have endured. The skin down the right side of his face was painfully scarred, slightly reddened, the skin looking crumpled, like creased paper that had been laid down flat. The scar that had run down his face was lost amongst this new, fresher scar, a suddenly painful consequence of Shepherd's, and in some ways, Soap's own actions…
"I'm sorry." Ghost shook his head quickly, turning away so that the unscarred left side of his face was all that was visible. "I shouldn't have shown you…I just…" He tried to laugh but the sound came out more as a drawn out sigh. "I just wanted to get this over with."
"What happened?" Soap's throat was suddenly immeasurably dry.
"A fire…" Riley closed his eyes, but it was too late, the images of his dream were back upon him, a searing inferno in the back of his mind. He shuddered slightly, opening his eyes but keeping his gaze fixed to the floor. "I guess Shepherd was getting rid of the evidence. Even I don't believe he was psychotic enough to burn us alive."
"And Roach?"
"No…" Riley shook his head. "He was already in bad shape when we got to the extraction point. Mortars…they were everywhere. They'd already got Archer. Ozone and Scarecrow were dead back at the safehouse…" He bit his lip. "We were all that was left." The lieutenant swallowed hard, bringing his hand up to his face and wiping at his mouth for a moment before continuing, his voice remaining flat, lifeless. "I couldn't save Roach…I didn't even have the strength to bury him…"
"It wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it?" Riley laughed darkly. "Remember all that stuff you said about being the CO and getting everyone out alive? You were right…about the guilt…about everything. I just hadn't felt it." He blinked hard, still unable to look at Soap directly. "I don't really remember anything else…I staggered around, I passed out. I vaguely remember someone yelling at me in Russian. Then I woke up in hospital, half fucking mummified in bandages with just my kit and these…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of dog tags, handing them to Soap carefully.
"But these are Roach's…?"
"Exactly…" Ghost smiled weakly. "I'd told him so many fucking times not to wear them." He held out his hand, taking them from Soap almost possessively. "I'm going to give them to his family when I find them…it's the least I can do."
"He'd appreciate that." Soap nodded solemnly. "I guess we all would. Something to be remembered by." He laughed at himself, shakily. "I'm starting to sound like Price."
"You'll be starting to look like him too soon." Riley smirked, although he was already reaching for his mask again, keeping his face self consciously turned from Soap.
"You don't need to put that back on…"
"I do."
"No one's going to judge you here." John shook his head. "You know that…right?"
"It's not about them. It's about me." Ghost paused, pulling the mask down over his eyes as quick as he could. "And I don't want to see this…" He indicated at his face with one hand. "…Anymore than I have to."
"Riley…"
"Don't, John. Alright?" The snapping tone in Riley's voice caught Soap off guard, his words suddenly that little bit louder and bigger than they had been before. "I know what you're going to say…and I just…don't want to hear it ok?" He rolled his eyes. "You'd be wasting your time."
"Fine."
"And now you're pissed at me…great."
"I'm not pissed…I just don't know what you want me to say." Soap sighed. "You drop all that on me and I can't say anything about it?"
"Pretty much." Ghost paused, running an awkward hand across the top of his mask. "Can't we just forget I said anything?"
"You're kidding me, right?"
"I'm not." Riley shook his head. "I've already had one debrief with Price…" He finally met Soap's gaze, his eyes almost pleading this time, penetrating straight through his mask and into John's skull. "I can't do this again…not now."
"Then we should talk about something else…"
"That's probably not a good idea either." Ghost shrugged, moving to stand up in a single fluid motion. "I'm keeping you awake…"
"I thought we already said I couldn't sleep?" Soap cocked an eyebrow, suddenly wondering exactly what had changed to make Riley no longer want to be around him.
"But me being here isn't helping…"
"You seem to have made your own mind up." Soap shrugged, unable to argue any further. "But go…if that's what you want." He sighed. "Not like I can stop you is it?"
"I'll come back…you just need to rest." Riley nodded quickly, although he was already halfway towards the door by this point. He opened the door, turning back to Soap in what looked to be an after thought. "And I'll…tell Price that you're ok."
"When he's awake?"
"Yeah…when he's awake."
"Riley?"
"Yeah?"
"I…" John knew what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't quite form in his mind, never mind his throat, and Soap stalled, desperately trying to formulate some coherence from out of his mind. It didn't help knowing that everything he'd said to Riley that night seemed to be wrong either. "It was never the same without you…you know…" He paused, realising how incoherent that sounded and spoke again, desperately trying to make some sense. "All this I mean." He raised his hand to indicate all around them, but the gesture seemed a little futile by that point.
"You don't mean that…" Riley replied blankly, by now halfway out the door, his back turned to Soap. "But thanks for saying it…"
Once the door had closed, the room became enveloped back into the horrific silence that Soap was now coming to hate. White noise crackled in his ears, and as he reached to turn off his lamp, Soap was actually relieved to let the darkness wash over him, to be able to stare blankly at the ceiling and not know whether his eyes were open or closed. At least the silence gave him time to think, time to digest the odd, uncomfortable conversation they'd just shared.
He'd said all of the wrong things to Riley, but deep down John knew that didn't really matter. After all, it had become all too clear too soon that Ghost had descended very quickly into a state where everything John said would be wrong, no matter how true it might be. He'd always had a tendency to do that, and it seemed, even after everything he'd been through, he was still prone to doing the same thing. But that much John could handle. After all, he'd dealt with worse. But the worst thing of all had been finally coming to realise a small part of what Riley had actually had to endure whilst they'd be separated and how it had scarred him, both mentally and physically. After all, Simon had always been so damn cocky and sure of himself, even on operations that Soap had been sure that he had a bigger ego than anyone else in the task force. This was the Ghost who'd flirt, who'd push him to the very edge of his tolerance and drive him almost insane in the process. And now, that same Ghost was so lost that he could barely even look him in the eye...
Shepherd might have been long dead, but the legacy of his actions lived on. Not only through the knife scar in Soap's stomach, but in the face of Simon Riley too…
And this was supposed to be a short chapter… *sighs* Ok, so I know I say this a lot, but I genuinely am very worried. Most of the chapters I write aren't too bad, but this one…well let's just say writing something that is meant to be awkward is more awkward then I thought it would be. Either way, I get way too excited when I see that I have reviews, so if you'd like to put a big stupid smile on my face then please, click that link below. I'm also bribing Ghost into baking more special cookies for you too. He doesn't like it, but he's an attention whore deep down.
And of course on a serious note, if you've stuck with me and this story so far, then I am eternally honoured! :)
-x-S-x-