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. When I say fair, I mean a lot.

Also! This chapter is rated M for explicit (ish) scenes. You have been warned.

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: So a quick apology. I was a bit late with this chapter for two main reasons. Firstly that evil thing called real life got in the way, and second because this chapter was a bitch to write. Either way, in my slight absence I was lucky enough to get some lovely reviews, which as always I am going to try and give a coherent response to now… (hey…I did say try, so no promises…)

Carovinee: Making people smile is all the aim of the game. And thank you, I have to say the idea wasn't easy, I feel sorry for the people who are actually writing MW3 since they have to come up with something a bit more plausible. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

GubbleBum96: Thank you! And the worst would be that you guys would hate it, but hopefully it won't come to that. *hugs* I also hope that you've managed to get rid of the demon baby of doom! Haha :)

VerityA: He does need a rest, but he's too bloody stubborn to take one. You'd think two near death experiences in the space of a year would have convinced him of that. And no problem about the A/N's, you deserve them. Also, the hilarity of beating down Price with his own baking tray, the image alone made me laugh. :P

Dunedain789: I seriously love you! You make me feel way way better. I'm glad you think the plot is solid, although I'm afraid there is very little plot in this, it's a little more of a interlude. And feel free to take Price and his burnt baking off my hands anytime :P I'm going to have to read your fic too, although if I can manage sounding vaguely sensible plot wise you should be fine! :D

Reeserella: Well that makes two of us. I'm kinda glad it is going further, but I just hope I can keep doing the characters justice. I wonder if your feeling was correct… :P

xStealthxSniperx: I hope chapter 11 is what you hoped for! And when I say 'Nikolai's men' I'm really more thinking of them as his fellow soldiers/friends/mercenaries. I don't really see them as a huge military organisation, but more as a group of men who have broken away due to political differences etc. Either way, it was the only plausible way I could think of portraying Nikolai, as in MW2 he has access to his plane and his pave low, and so I figured he would have to have some people helping him maintain them etc. Just my odd logic really. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

duvalia: Hey, catch up all you like, its nice knowing I have new people accompanying me on this weird fanfic ride. And lol, I find action sequences so hard to write though, but thank you! *blush* I hope you enjoy the rest of the chapters, let me know what you think. :)

Greenyfox: Well I can't comment on Price and Ghost's operation yet, but don't worry, Soap should be fine. :) I'm sorry for updating late though!

Kiminoloko: Aww thank you! You made me blush one hell of a lot with that comment. And agreed, Soap/Ghost is full of win, I love them (As you might have noticed… :P) And thank you for you concern too *hugs* I hope you enjoy the rest.

And now? Yes, its chapter 11!

"John?"

It was as if he was poking a caged animal with a stick.

Not that Ghost was particularly scared of that animal. But he would still prefer to make it out of any conversation they might have with as few bruises as possible.

"John?" Again there was no response.

It had been early afternoon when he'd first realised just how pissed Soap was. After all, Riley had spent most of his morning talking with Price, being sprayed in breadcrumbs as the older Captain quizzed him further about the next day's op over their breakfast. But there had been no sign of Soap. The hours had gone on until lunch, and there had still been no sign of him, even though Price was shrugging off his absence lightly.

"He'll come around. You'll see."

But Ghost did see. He knew Soap, and in some ways he could understand just what John was feeling. After all, they were men who were trained to react, men who had existed off the buzz of fighting for longer than they cared to remember. In their very essence, they were men of action. And to be left behind? Well that was a hard knock to take…

If a man could be stripped down to his raw humanity, then Riley had been close. With every layer of skin that he had lacked upon his body a raw emotion had been exposed, angry, red and agonising. In the first few days he was a man of rage. He'd screamed at the nurses as they changed the dressings on his burns, he'd yelled at the doctors with unquenchable wrath. He'd hated the world and everything in it simply because it felt as if it hated him, betrayal stinging like alcohol seeping into his wounds. Then as his burns began to scab over and he was further confined to his bed, a more depressed state of mind swept across him, almost in acceptance of his situation. His thoughts would linger for hours on end on Roach, on Archer and the others. How he might have been able to save them. How he had managed to survive against all the odds and yet they had not. He wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat, would barely even sleep. All because he felt too guilty to simply be alive. This continued for days, maybe even weeks until another psychological state had taken him equally as strong, after what felt like lifetimes cooped up inside the same four white washed walls. A devouring frustration. The wrath was back, raging through him, but this time he was unable to let it out. Instead it was building, every fresh pump of his heart refreshing the feeling within his veins. He wanted to be back in the fight. He was sick of hiding, of cowering in a hospital licking his wounds. He wanted vengeance, justice… peace. And yet, he couldn't have them. His mind might have been strong, but his body was weak, fragile and still needing constant attention to prevent infection and further damage. And so Ghost too had been caged, confined, left behind with the sheer desire to be fighting alongside his friends…

"John?" He was knocking at the Captain's door a third time, listening closely for any movement. His heart thudded for a moment, thoughts of John being passed out and bleeding again blurring through his brain. He shook them quickly away and knocked harder. "For fuck's sake…just let me in, John…"

There were some rustlings of movement from behind the door, but eventually it opened, revealing Soap, standing petulantly in its wake.

"If Price sent you-"

"He didn't." Riley shook his head. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't dead or something."

"Great." Soap rolled his eyes. "So even you think I'm an invalid now?"

"I didn't say that."

"Could have fooled me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You really don't know?" John gave him a wicked laugh, reaching up and rubbing as his eyes, the skin around them still tainted with dark circles.

"John…" Riley warned.

"Where were you when Price was laying in to me, eh?" Soap raised an eyebrow expectantly, his arms tightly folded across his chest.

"You're kidding me, right?" Riley laughed. "Look at yourself for a minute, John. Do you really think you could walk further than 100 metres? Never mind fucking run."

"I'm not a cripple…"

"No, you're a prideful, arrogant bastard." Riley sighed. "But we're still gonna try to protect you anyway. Even if it is from yourself." He leant against the door frame, his eyes fixed to Soap's defiantly. "You gonna let me in?"

"I'm not sure I have a choice." Soap rolled his eyes, although he stood aside so that Riley could walk past him, letting out a heavy sigh as he closed the door behind him.

The room was unmistakably Soap's, the heavy scent of whisky and cigarette smoke hitting Ghost's nostrils as soon as he was inside. The Captain hadn't changed much over time either, his untidy nature still apparent as the room was littered with what little possessions he had, each of them thrown carelessly across the cement floor. Riley couldn't help but notice that it was smaller than Captain Price's, as there was only the room for one bed which lay conveniently in the middle of the room, padded out with a thin mattress and two sleeping bags. It was a dank and confined space too, the walls mainly plain and grey aside from a single Russian pin up, her lustful brown eyed gaze staring straight back at Riley.

"Cosy…" He laughed sarcastically, glancing around the small room. He stepped towards Soap's bed, staring at a discreet oval picture of a pretty brunette stuck to the wall beside it. It was heavily crumpled, as if it had been folded up for a long time. "Girlfriend?"

"Sister." Soap shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "Was there anything else, Riley?"

"Depends." The lieutenant shrugged. "You gonna calm down?"

"I am calm…"

"Like hell you are…" Ghost shook his head. "Seriously John, its just one op."

"This is my fight as much as it's yours." The Captain bit his lip, clenching his good fist. "And Price just thinks that he's still in charge…"

"He is." Riley laughed softly. "Price's always going to be in charge whether we like it or not. And he should be." He shrugged. "He's the most ruthless. He knows Makarov, and you might not want to admit it…but he knows you too."

"Fuck off." Soap rolled his eyes, walking over to his bed and sitting down. "Price is being intolerable."

"No…" Riley paused, moving so that he was stood in front of Soap, his arms folded. "Right now you're the intolerable one. Have been ever since you stopped getting that morphine high." He laughed gently. "It wouldn't kill you to show a little weakness, you know."

"It might." John replied finally, although his voice was softener, much less harsh. "I should be out there…"

"And you will be. You've not been written off."

"Fucking feels like it."

"Not for long." Riley shrugged, sitting down next to him. "Come on, if I was the one who had been shot within an inch of their life, it'd all be different wouldn't it?" He grinned. "Talk about double standards."

"Don't be so sure." Soap shook his head, finally rewarding Ghost with a smirk. "You've got me all wrong…"

"Yeah, yeah…" Ghost gave the Captain a quick nudge to his uninjured side. "Keep telling yourself that, mate." They both continued to laugh, until Riley spoke again, his words plunging the room into an almost immediate silence. "Sometimes I think I know you better than you do." He gave Soap a deliberate look. "Isn't that what you were saying earlier?"

"Riley…" Soap gave him a confused look in return. "You want to do this now?"

"The talking thing?" The lieutenant nodded. "We said later."

"I didn't think you meant-" Soap shook his head despairingly. "Fine. But I've got one condition, first."

"What?"

"I want to talk to you, not Ghost."

"Huh?"

"The mask." Soap nodded. "Take it off."

"John…"

"What?" Soap shook his head. "I know what you look like, Riley."

"Then I don't need to take it off."

"I never said I needed you to." Mactavish shrugged, staring as intently as he dared into Riley's eyes. "But I want you to."

"Why?"

"Don't you think it's unfair that I have to guess what you're feeling the whole time?" Soap rolled his eyes quickly, leaning a little closer to Riley. "That mask does more than protect your face."

"Well right now, I'm scowling. What does that tell you?"

"That you're being pathetic." Soap sighed, rubbing a hand across his own dry lips. "Take it off or I'll take it off for you."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me." John replied with knowing smirk.

"You wouldn't dare…"

If Soap hadn't been so badly injured, Ghost would have anticipated what was to come next. As it was, he didn't, meaning that when Soap leapt forwards towards him, he was completely wrong footed. Mactavish had launched himself at him so quickly that Riley was sure that he would have to be in agony, but the Captain seemed to be ignoring it as he pinned Riley down below him on the bed, his knees wedging his hips in place. His stronger, healthy left hand quickly found its way to Riley's right shoulder, a knowing thumb digging deep into the soft tissue and sending a spark of pain up into Ghost's head. It was a move that proved beyond words how well Soap knew him, the site of an old injury that the Captain was now painfully manipulating to gain advantage. Riley was forced to acknowledge this with a gasp as he struggled, trying to kick up his legs to gain leverage. But Mactavish had him too cleverly pinned, and whilst his steady left hand kept a firm pressure against Riley's shoulder to pacify him, the bandaged right hand crept up and discarded his mask as quickly as possible.

"You were the one who said you liked me fighting back…" Soap raised a cocky eyebrow, although the slight breathless nature of his voice gave away the pain that the manoeuvre had put him through. He watched Riley, unmasked now below him snarl. "Now we can talk."

"If you fucking get off me…" Riley almost spat, defeat a feeling that made his stomach churn. To prove his point further he wriggled again, earning him another twist of Mactavish's thumb against his shoulder.

"And if I don't?" There was another appearance of that blatantly arrogant raised eyebrow.

"Then we won't talk."

"Good."

There was no backing out this time. The bed was behind him, stopping him from pulling away, and Soap's grip so tight on him that when Riley felt that same, harsh mouth on his, he knew that this was it, thatthere really was no more turning back. Not that deep down he really wanted there to be. But he wasn't going to give in so easily. Submissive was not a word that Simon Riley liked, and so as Soap's mouth flickered across his own, a mess of different textures and pressures, he tried his damndest to not kiss him back. Even when John's tongue lapped across his bottom lip, sending electric tingles straight down his body did he not submit, keeping his eyes firmly shut and his jaw locked. But Soap was as dominate as he was stubborn, and a sharp bite to his bottom lip riled Ghost as much as it aroused him. In a mindless blur he opened his mouth, and at the same time gave Soap chance to dominate him further.

It had been a lifetime since he'd been kissed like this, and Riley would have been mad not to relish the feeling of Soap's mouth, moving with his own. The Captain had been obviously smoking again, the sour taste of cigarettes on his tongue, something that Ghost surprisingly found himself savouring. Lost in the moment, he managed to free his arms from underneath Mactavish, bringing them up to hold his face, almost stopping him from moving away or coming to his senses. Because whatever this was, Riley really didn't want it to stop.

When Soap stopped to breathe and turned his attentions to the pulse point below Riley's jaw, Ghost knew that he now had the advantage. Whilst Soap was distracted and with a deft push of his hips, Riley managed to flip them over, although even in his haze he was careful to not rest his full weight onto Soap's chest, ever aware of the extent of the damage below him. Grinning, Riley supported his weight on the two hands either side of Soap's head, his legs firmly keeping the Captain in place with no chance of reversal. A smirk wrote its way across his features as Riley leant down, kissing Soap slowly, lazily, an act which only cemented just how in control he truly was. It was an action that soon reaped its rewards, as the body beneath him writhed, grinding up into him in a single move that made Riley's head spin. A thick groan was his only reply, and Ghost leant down closer, biting a trail along the side of Mactavish's neck, watching carefully as the skin turned to pink before his very eyes. He grinned as the body below him shuddered, biting down again until the marks became purple, before swiping his tongue across the darkening bruises and sucking ever so lightly as he did so. The body below him practically came undone.

Their movements becoming more frantic, control became something that was easily won and lost. Clothes were torn away and shed in mere seconds, limbs pinned and bodies flipped intermittently. Both were desperate to dominate each other, to bring the other to their knees first, yet one would always become distracted, allowing for the other to gain a tactical advantage. It was a game of wins and losses after all, and in the end Riley found himself on top, managing to gain the upper hand through sheer experience and persistence. But it had all been worth it, and when he finally pushed forward into Soap and white spots flurried in front of his vision, he was hit by a strange affirmation.

He might not have felt whole, he might never truly feel it again. But right then, at least he was enough.

Ok, there it is, the dreaded chapter 11. I realise with the slash it might not be a hit with everyone, and for those of you wanting more plot, it will appear very soon in chapter 12. But in the mean time, Soap needs your reviews. After all he's been left behind on a base all alone and is feeling very low and crippled. So give that big old ego of his a stroke and tell us what you think! :) Ghost is back baking, though this time its triple chocolate cake as a treat… :P

And of course, in all seriousness, (with what remains of my sanity) I just want to say the usual thank you for sticking with me this far. :) You guys are awesome.

-x-S-x-