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.
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. Technically I do own Lev, Artem and Markov, but you know, I'm not going to get too hung up on them.
Note from Sassy: After being hit by the wave of inspiration that currently is VerityA I am back to updating *relatively* frequently. And so here I come, bearing gifts of NSD for you all on these cold winter nights. It's a bit of an odd chapter for me too this one, so any reviews I get are going to be more cuddled than usual. But, on that note, I guess its time to squee at the reviewers for chapter 14!
Carovinee: It's alright sweetie, don't worry about it! But on that note, welcome back. I'm very happy to see you back and reviewing again. :) You are so very kind too, that all I can really do is blush, a lot! FYI, I love your rambling. :D
xGhostxStealth: Well some might say you were mad, but they obviously are boring non slash lovers :P But I'm glad that I managed to build a bit of tension. You are very right about the typo too, since I do believe vale is something to do with rivers *headdesks* Thank you. :) To sound corny, Ghost has been getting into the Captain's jeans a lot recently ;) But seriously…I'm blushing here! What can I say to that except that you are obviously brilliant? *hugs*
GubbleBum96: Well if there's one thing Soap should know how to deal with, its angst. As for more comforting…well, you never know. :P Your keyboard troubles sound ridiculously annoying anyway, so I really appreciate your review, no matter how short. And on a random note, my shoulder is healing up nicely, thank you for remembering. :)
UrgentOrange: Thank you! I've got a bit attached to Markov, so it's nice to know people are enjoying more of him too. :)
VerityA: The domestic was always a tricky one, since I couldn't really have one of them being "weaker" than the other. But thank you! I love writing Soap, because in my head he's pretty complex, a bit like how you described. Both are ridiculously tough and strong, but Ghost definitely has that slightly harder edge. I'm afraid there's a bit of Roach here for you too, just as a slight angst warning. :)
Yunalein: Thank you sweetie! As always your reviews make my day too. :D I'm glad that you liked the fic! In terms of Christmas fics, I have written a Roach/Ghost one, and I might write a Soap/Ghost one…if I can come up with an idea. :)
duvalia: Hopefully I squeed enough in my personal message, but if I didn't, thank you! I agree Price is so very awesome indeed.
Reeserella: Ahhh I remember the last days of school…who can blame you for being excited? And Ghost's cookies are so specially that you don't gain weight. :D Thanks so much for the review.
Not Yet Knowing: Why hello there! I loved your sum up of thoughts there…in fairness you pretty eloquently summed up my entire plot in four lines. I'm glad that you're enjoying the fic! :)
And now, I hope you're sitting comfortably for chapter 15!
It was Riley's first operation with the FNGs.
They'd been ordered to take out a group of Ultranationalist terrorists in an empathising village north of Omsk, deep within the Ural Mountains. The terrain was steep and difficult, the village more a sparse distribution of farm buildings than anything else, but their intel had soon proved solid. They'd set up camp on a ridge south of the village, their location ideally covered from the air and the ground by the thick forest of coniferous trees that surrounded them. It had given them the perfect place to sit and watch, picking targets and verifying their targets. By the looks of it the village was harbouring at least twenty men, with two armoured jeeps each utilising general purpose machine guns and 40mm grenade launchers. After a small discussion, Mactavish had decided that they would attack at dawn, using the low light to hide their approach whilst still giving them the element of surprise. It had also been decided that the team would split into two, Ghost's team breaching one the large barn, whilst the other team lead by Mactavish cleared the nearby farmhouse. The armoured jeeps would be dealt with by C4 at the very moment of breaching.
They had plenty of time to plan and prepare, something that definitely gave them all false confidence thanks to the important infantry saying of the 7 P's: 'Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance'.
Ghost, as usual, didn't think much of their new recruits. To him they were FNGs, men who had been elevated into a task force that in his opinion they would have to grow into. After all, it had been the same for him. In the same way that the SAS had been a huge step up from his infantry background, moving to the 141 had been another shock to his system, plunging him into an even more precise and dangerous world head first and with very little introduction. It was for this reason that he always felt angered towards Mactavish's more understanding view of the new men, and of how the Captain would edge away from the usual FNG related snide comments and remarks. But at the same time, Riley appreciated that this was Soap's greatest strength as a CO. After all, when Riley had been the new guy in the task force, it was Soap who had first believed in him and taught him one very important lesson:
Anyone could train hard and walk into the 141 on their own merit. That part was easy. But gaining your status and most importantly of all respect from your fellow soldiers? That was the more difficult task.
"It's fucking cold…" Roach was sat beside him, huddled by the small fire in the centre of their camp. The fire was barely burning; reduced to glowing embers, deliberately low to hide their position on the mountainside. He glanced around smiling, breathing out a thick cloud of cigarette smoke. "But where's the snow?"
"What?" Ghost was the only one still conscious, or at least, not pretending to be. He was sat up in his sleeping bag, watching the glow of burning wood in front of him carefully. The rest were all hunched over, desperately trying to catch some sleep aside from Ozone and Chemo who were at the camp perimeter, keeping watch.
"It's freezing…we're on a mountain. Shouldn't we be waist deep in snow right now?"
"The Siberian high." Riley rolled his eyes. "In winter, the air here is really dry. Doesn't snow until summer." He gave Roach an exasperated look through his mask. "That answer your question?"
"I guess." Roach shrugged, offering out his packet of cigarettes in an attempt to change the subject. "Smoke?"
"I don't."
"Why?"
"Figure this job is doing enough to try and kill me as it is." The lieutenant sighed, nodding to the half empty packet. "Besides…you're smoking enough for both of us."
"Boredom." The sergeant smiled, taking a final drag before flicking the cigarette into the fire. "What the fuck happened to night raids?"
"You're questioning orders now?" Riley didn't bother to hide the irritation in his voice.
"I just think that we'd be safer going in now…There must be what, two guards on sentry duty? Silence them and then kill the rest of them in their sleep."
"And how would we ID the targets? There's civvies down there too."
"Torches." Roach laughed. "We'd have all the fucking time in the world. I think-"
"I think you should stop thinking." Riley interrupted his tone harsh. "Sentries have torches too, and a height advantage, they'd pick us out in seconds and we'd be stuck out in the open." Ghost shook his head quickly. "I think you should show a little more respect."
"I was…"
"Really?" Ghost smirked darkly. "Because it sounded to me like you were bitching about your orders behind your CO's back." He nodded to Soap's sleeping form. "The 141 don't do that."
"I'm not allowed to have an opinion?"
"Sure…" Ghost smiled. "Just wait until you've got the experience to back it up."
Eight hours later, with dawn steadily approaching, the operation was underway. The two sentries were already dead, their bodies hidden behind one of the buildings, propped up against the wall so they couldn't be seen through any windows. Roach had planted the C4 packs underneath the jeeps in strategic positions, and the two teams were stood at their breaching points, awaiting the C4 signal.
"Ghost…" Mactavish's voice was soft through the comm. "On your go…"
When he laid the frame charge on the barn door, Roach, stood directly beside him detonated the C4. The huge, flame filled explosion shook the soft ground, followed by the smaller explosions from the frame charges and the distinction whoosh of flash bangs. There were assorted yells in both English and Russian as Ghost and Roach stormed the room, gunning down two men who instantly reached for their assault rifles within the confusion. The civvies were easy to spot, mostly unarmed women, dropping to the floor screaming as frantic hands clasped over their ears. Three more men began firing from the cover of some barrels, and Ghost and Roach were momentarily separated as they both made for cover at either end of the room, Ghost taking shelter behind an upturned table. Fortunately the men were inexperienced, and they soon made mistakes, allowing Ghost and the others to pick them off one by one with relative ease.
"Ozone, Chemo, check the rest of the ground floor. Breach and Clear. Roach, you're with me. Upstairs…now!" Indicating over his shoulder, Ghost began to climb the stairs at the far end of the room, his eyes flicking from down the sights of his gun to his surroundings. The hay loft was dimly lit, and filled with areas where targets could be hiding, and so they both moved slowly, inching their way along the floorboards. Below them they could hear Ozone and Chemo firing, and Ghost's finger twitched against his own gun. But there was still no movement in the gloom. Just the sound of a distinct click. He wasn't sure if he'd heard it at first and advanced, his eyes trained straight ahead. It wasn't until he heard an unnerving roll of something heavy and metallic by his feet that Riley actually began to worry.
"Ghost!" He didn't really have time to think, as a force that felt like an oncoming vehicle was suddenly knocking him sideways, Roach's body suddenly tackling him towards the hay. The grenade, obviously cooked, exploding almost immediately, spreading a shower of shrapnel, wood and hay around them, the hay loft's floor shaking. He heard a distinct scream of pain, as Roach's body fell on top of his heavily followed by a yell of angry Russian as the two men hiding in the loft with them came out of cover, desperate to use the explosion to their advantage. Riley's ACR was trapped underneath Roach's body, and so he grabbed wildly at his sidearm, levelling it at the closest man and firing for full effect. He fell. The other raised his hands, yelling at Ghost in what he assumed to be surrender. But he didn't have time for that, and a quick shot to the head was all it took to bring the world around him back into silence.
"Roach?" Rolling the body off him, Riley quickly examined the sergeant, watching as blood began to pool through the left side of his shirt. "Chemo! Roach is down…"
"Shit…" Roach himself was glancing down, trying to catch a look at the state of his wound. He moved his hands up to examine it further but Ghost slapped them away.
"That was fucking stupid…" The lieutenant shook his head. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"Don't know…" Roach laughed breathlessly, grimacing when the pain in his side intensified. He swallowed hard, meeting Ghost's gaze with a deliberate smile, however weak it might have been. "Guess…I was just trying to show some of that respect…sir."
Chemo appeared next, kneeling by Roach's side and forcing Ghost to step back before he could respond. He'd never felt more useless, watching at the medic began to examine the embedded shrapnel, ripping Roach's shirt away at the seams to get a better look.
"Ghost! Gimme a Sit Rep, over."
"Building 2 clear, sir." Straightening up, Ghost pushed the comm. unit further into his ear. "But Roach is down…caught some shrapnel in his side."
"What's his status?"
"Still conscious." Ghost watched as Chemo gave him a quick shake of his head. "We're going to need a casevac asap."
"Roger that. Get him outside if you can move him. We're enroute to assist."
They'd carried Roach outside, where Chemo had begun removing the pieces of shrapnel as best he could, his small medical pack proving almost entirely useless. With the majority of the shrapnel gone he was at least able to press gauze to the wound, stemming the bleeding whilst Ghost and the others tried to keep Roach awake and talking.
"You're a lucky bastard…" Ozone laughed to Roach. "By the looks of it the only thing that saved you was that the grenade kept rolling."
"And it's missed your vitals…" Chemo nodded, smiling reassuringly. "You're going to be ok."
"Great…" Roach tilted his head, looking to the wound. "Gonna be one… fucking scar though."
"Welcome to the 141." Soap merely smirked in reply.
When the casevac bird finally arrived, Roach was weak, but at least stable. All eight men loaded up, most huddling down one end of the chopper giving Chemo, Ghost and Roach room.
"…You're bleeding." Roach groaned, hissing with pain when Chemo lifted off the gauze, beginning to disinfect the wound. He nodded weakly to Ghost's left forearm, where a deep gash was seeping blood.
"Says you." Ghost shook his head. "I'm fine." He swallowed, awkwardly running a hand across the top of his mask. "All thanks to you, mate."
"Don't…mention it." Roach smirked softly. "But remember…"
"What?"
"Next time…pay more fucking attention." The sergeant laughed grimly, his features screwing up as the pain welled up again in his side.
"Maybe." Riley muttered. "But in the mean time, I think I owe you one hell of a pint."
Roach might have started the op as nothing more than just a FNG, but that no longer mattered. After all, when they finally did leave the Ural Mountains for good, Ghost considered Roach his friend. Six months later, after countless similar events, Gary Sanderson was his closest friend within the task force, only rivalled in any way by Mactavish himself.
Riley glanced at his watch. It was 8.30am. He'd managed to daydream away at least 20 precious minutes.
He wasn't the best of sleepers, and as a result he'd been wide awake hours before, lying awkwardly beside Soap's still unconscious form. Temporarily he'd enjoyed the feeling, the warmth of the bed sheets oddly pleasant against his skin, the heavy breathing beside him almost a comforting sign that he wasn't alone. But the longer he lay there, enveloped in a constant darkness, the more he wanted to move. And the more he wanted to move, the more he knew that sleep was going to be impossible.
He'd torn himself from the bed and forced himself into the shower, the cool liquid lapping across the marks that covered his body from the night before. He wasn't sure if it was just Soap showing that he cared or the way the man liked to get off, but the Captain was nothing if not rough, not afraid to bruise, manhandle and taint almost any area of flesh that he could. Not that Ghost particularly minded, since on reality he was just the same. It was the one thing that men had over women. Women felt fragile and didn't appeal to the darker side of his personality. Men however, well they could take absolutely anything and everything that he threw at them.
Staring blankly ahead, Ghost tried to refocus his vision on the computer monitor in front of him. The operations room was deadly quiet, the only sound for hours being that of his fingers bouncing off the keyboard and little else. Not that he had managed to glean much information from his hours of work. The decryptions were harder than he had anticipated for a start, and the files he had managed to crack were all of little use, most of them old orders and base directives like one-one-six bravo. All very interesting, but in terms of finding anything that even mentioned Makarov, completely useless.
"I'm already getting bored of this…" A gruff, Scottish accent made Ghost jump out of his skin, and he span round in his chair, his heart thundering in his chest. Behind him Mactavish was stood in the operations room doorway, smiling arrogantly, the bulk of his bandages still clearly visible underneath his tight grey t shirt.
"How long were you there?"
"Long enough." The Captain shrugged, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. He looked back to Ghost, lifting a questioning eyebrow. "You going to keep ditching me?"
"Why…did you miss me?" Riley's voice was almost dripping with sarcasm as he turned round to face the computer again.
"It's…disorientating." Stepping forwards, Soap leant against the oak operations table, resting the majority of his weight on the object. "…Did I…do something wrong?"
"No…but I couldn't sleep." Ghost sighed, adjusting his mask with an awkward hand. "Thought I'd make myself useful…"
"Right…" Mactavish sounded almost relieved. "And did you?"
"Not yet."
"What have you found?"
"Directives mostly. Self destruct contingencies, operation plans…I even managed to dig up a patrols rota." He laughed softly, although there was a disappointed edge to his voice. "But on Makarov? I've found jack shit."
"Price knew it was a risk…"
"That's not the problem." Riley shook his head. "Intel could be right here in front of me…but until I've decrypted it, I won't know." He shrugged impatiently. "And since I'm the only one who understands this shit…"
"We've got our ears to the ground." Soap interrupted tactically. "If Makarov shows his face in the mean time then we'll know about it."
"And if he doesn't?" Ghost turned, watching as Mactavish was forced into silence. "Exactly. Face it John, right now this is the one lead we actually have." He groaned, a frustrated hand hitting out against the desk. "So I've got to find something."
"And thinking like that is going to make it so much easier." Soap rolled his eyes, his voice the one to be sarcastic this time.
"A man died for this intel…" Ghost shook his head. "Don't you think that means something?"
"Course I do!" Soap half yelled, exasperated. "But what is or isn't on that DSM isn't going to change that."
"Try telling that to Markov."
"He already knows. We all knew the risk." Mactavish shrugged sadly. "Even Lev." He watched as Ghost turned around silently, his hands fixed back to the keyboard. Muttering under his breath, Soap stood up, standing behind Riley, hands grasping the lieutenant's shoulders. Digging in his thumbs he felt for tension knots, idly massaging at them with the digits as he spoke. "How long have you been in here?"
"…I don't know…nearly three, four hours?" The figure in front of him shrugged.
"Then you're coming with me. You need some air or something."
"I'm fine."
"You really trust me to believe that?" Soap scoffed. "Come on, Simon. This is me."
"Then you should get why I want to stay."
"And I do, believe me." He rolled his eyes. "But come on, Riley. I'm allowed to give a damn about you too."
"This is still more important."
"And I'm not? Thanks…" Soap smirked, bending over and pressing a kiss at the bare skin of Riley's neck. He hovered there for a moment, breathing against the damp skin before moving forwards again, this time nipping gently at the skin with his teeth, ensuring that he had Riley's full attention. "Just give me an hour, ok? We can get some food or something, and then you can come back here and work all you want." He paused, pressing another nip to the pink patch of skin. "Deal?"
"And you'll leave me alone?"
"Promise."
"Soap…" Another, very familiar voice pushed its way into the room, intrusive and sudden. Mactavish spun round expectantly, although it took him a few seconds to realise that his hands were still resting on Riley's shoulders when his eyes finally met with Price's. "Yeah?"
"Artem's looking for you." The Captain sighed, folding his arms. "You need new bandages."
"Great."
"Doctor's orders." Price shrugged and nodded to Ghost. "Find anything?"
"Nothing yet."
"Well keep trying." He smiled weakly, half stepping out the room, a hand wiping across his mouth and moustache. Almost as if he'd forgotten something, he turned round again, clearing his throat. "The Russians are burying Lev in an hour…" He paused awkwardly, moistening his lips with his tongue before continuing. "…So if you want to pay your respects…" Deciding that it was better to leave the sentence dangling, Price seemed content to simply nod at them both, before quickly retreating from the room.
"Do you want to go?" Soap was the first to speak, more to break the harsh silence that had suddenly engulfed them than anything else.
"I think we both should…" Riley sighed slowly, his head hanging. "…It's the least we can fucking do."
And on that note, I shall end this shorter and a little bit different chapter. The flashbacks and Roach are back after popular demand! And of course, the plot is busy chugging along too, but give Ghost chance, he's got a lot of files to work through. :P On that note, he's stuck in front of his computer a lot at the moment, so if you fancy writing him a review then he would absolutely adore you. As of course, would I.
And, continuing my own personal cliché, thank you so much for reading this far. As I say time after time, you make my job as a writer completely awesome. :)
-x-S-x-