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. 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: Ok, so I got my head together and decided that I needed to have a big think about where this series is going, which I have, and as a result I have a new chapter all ready for you. Due to the content this one is written a little bit differently so that it flows, but hopefully you won't mind that. And before I get really overexcited and ramble too much, I'm going to get replying to all my awesome reviewers! :)

VerityA: Haha you know what I thought about the last chapter… :P Hopefully this one is a teeny bit better and more eventful. I'm glad you liked the Macmillan thing though…to be honest I loved him so much in MW that I had to slot him in somewhere, if only fleetingly… :P

Yunalein: You summed it up perfectly. I guess its like with all loss, except Ghost has the added pain of blaming himself too. I'm sorry that I broke you though, although I'm glad that it came across as that emotive. There's lots more Soap again in this chapter too. :)

xGhostxStealth: Well the plot thickens in this chapter…so I hope you like the way it turns out! As for the base being divided, well I guess they're a load of men trapped in a confined space with a language barrier…who can blame them? Lol I'm also so very glad that I'm not making your two favourite badasses too soppy either! :P

gazlover12: Why thank you for reviewing. :)

Reeserella: And I can only thank you for reading and reviewing my dear. And of course you get Ghost hugs too. :)

SarkastinenNasse: Another quick update for you my dear! And thank you so much! I'm glad that the dialogue between Price and Ghost worked out, since it kinda worried me. Ghost and Soap definitely need a bit more peace and quiet though if you ask me, but Price has other plans. *sighs* As for the flashbacks, I shall have to see. Thanks for the lovely review!

wingtipped: After your review, I love you too. :D Thanks so much for your review, I'm very glad you like my Ghost too. :D

xStealthxSniperx: Me, foreshadowing? Never… :P I have been known to use foreshadowing red herrings too though. As for Ghost and Soap, at least we know they can defend themselves eh? Thanks for the awesome review as always. :D

CallOfBooty: *blushes epically* Thank you so much! That was a ridiculous compliment, and I'm not sure what to say. All I can say is I'm glad that you're enjoying the slash and the characterisations…that makes me unbelievably happy. And as I'm sure I've said before, your story wasn't pathetic, but don't worry about it, just keep writing. :) As for the avatar…why thank you again. ;)

And so without further ado…let's get on with some NSD shall we?

"…Five…"

As Soap slowly became aware of his surroundings, the soft pressure of lips against his torso was the very first thought that spun through his mind.

The second was that they were working their way downwards…

As teeth nipped at the skin just above his hip bone, Soap arched his back off the mattress, although he tried his hardest to pass off the sudden jerk of movement as an attempt to sit up, his hands quickly reaching to pull the covers up and out of the way. There was a breathy, almost satisfied laugh that was characteristic to Riley and hot air suddenly tingled across Soap's still damp skin, forcing a shudder through his body. Craning his neck somewhat painfully, he looked down to Ghost, only just able to see his face looking up at him in the gloom.

"What the fuck, Simon?" It had meant to be a confused and almost angry question, but as teeth raked against the skin of his abdomen again the words came out almost as a choked rasp. Soap wriggled and squirmed, his hands trying to grab Riley's face and pull him back up the bed, but they were easily caught and pinned helplessly to mattress at his sides. There was another self satisfied laugh.

"Oh shut up…"

He'd wanted to argue, but any coherent thought was lost the mere instant Riley pressed forward and took him into his mouth. Soap wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was so damned out of practice at all this, or because Riley genuinely had a talent for it, but the action alone almost sent shimmers of white blazing across his vision. The rational part of his brain was telling him that he should stop Ghost and keep talking like the lieutenant so obviously wanted to avoid, but with each repetitive motion of Riley's mouth Soap was more and more willing to push that part of him aside. After all, talking could wait…

Breathless and sated, Soap dropped back down against the mattress, his eyes closed as his hand quickly disentangled itself from the mess of Riley's hair. In his haze Mactavish was vaguely aware of Riley moving back up his body, an uncharacteristically soft kiss fleetingly gracing his abdomen, so brief that Soap doubted that it had happened in the first place. The lieutenant crawled back to his place at Soap's side, lying down contented, his arms folding behind his head almost arrogantly.

"Morning…"

"Fuck…" Mactavish drew his hand almost wearily across his eyes, tilting his head to the right in an attempt to look at Riley in the gloom. "Give me more warning next time, mate."

"A wise old SAS sergeant told me that the element of surprise was everything." Riley laughed quickly. "I guess he was right…"

"Maybe…" Soap smirked. "But I thought you hated being dominated?"

"Its not dominating if it's voluntary."

"Really?" Mactavish laughed, nudging Riley in the arm although he was in no rush to retract away from the contact straight away. "I'm gonna have to remember that one." He groaned, glancing at his watch in the dark gloom of the room. "It's morning…"

"Not that you can tell in here…" Riley scoffed. "Fucking black pit…"

"You'll get used to it."

"Maybe I won't have to."

"What?" Soap gave him an almost worried look. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I might have found something." Ghost shrugged passively. "The frequency 7 intel gave me some more hooks, I knew more what I was actually looking for."

"What?" Soap was sitting up almost instantly, his wounds whining all the while. "You've found Makarov?"

"I didn't say that." Ghost shook his head slowly. "I found some possible safehouse locations and some stuff that must have come from our DSM…but there's a lot of Russian in there too so I need Price to verify it."

"Did you tell him?"

"Do you think if I had I would have been able to just do that?" Riley rolled his eyes. "It was late, everyone aside from the sentries were fucking asleep. Hell…call me selfish but I wanted to get some sleep too." He sighed. "I figured it could wait 'till morning."

"Price will kill you."

"Price isn't going to know." Riley laughed softly. "I'll go in there, make that I've been working early this morning…you can vouch for me there."

"Whoa…hang on…" Soap smirked, turning on his side. "Don't bring me into this."

"What do you think earlier was for?" Ghost grinned.

"Bribery and corruption, eh?"

"Or you could call it celebration." Riley laughed again, although this time he swung his legs out of bed, sitting upright as he did so and stretching his back. "Either way we have to get up."

"Hang on…" In a move the speed of which surprised himself Soap darted forwards, his hands grabbing Riley's shoulders and pulling him back down against the mattress. Nimbly he leveraged himself over Ghost, straddling him to the bed and pacifying him with a rough and ready suck just below his left ear. "You're going nowhere. If I remember rightly, that celebration was all a bit…one sided."

"I've got to go talk to Price…" Riley argued, however unconvincing it might have sounded.

"And?" Soap arched a scarred eyebrow, tracing his tongue across the now pink skin. "Price can wait five minutes…can't he?"

"…Four…"

"The Ural Mountains, south west Russia." Price pointed to the area on the map, the eyes of every man gathered around the operations table upon him. "The target building is an old Soviet cement bunker from the Cold War. It was used as an outpost until the 90's when it was replaced by this…" He pointed to a new area on the map, barely a few kliks away from the bunker. "…newer outpost. It's supposed to be derelict…but frequency 7 tells us differently."

"We're at war…" Artem interrupted gruffly. "Plans change."

"But as Nikolai pointed out…why have two patrols in such a small area? Especially when the chatter on frequency 7 is telling us that no one seems to know why this patrol is actually there…"

"Coincidence." A few of the other Russian's nodded in agreement.

"Quite possibly." Price nodded, although he slid a thin bundle of paper across the table to Artem as he did so. "But in Shepherd's files we dug up this…It's the intel that the General had on Makarov at the time, including the two locations we raided. Shepherd picked the two least likely candidates so that he could take out what remained of the 141…leaving the others to be raided by Shadow Company to actually acquire Makarov."

"Then if Shepherd had the intel all along…" Soap spoke out slowly. "Then how do we know that he didn't check the Ural Mountains bunker?"

"Because the intel Shepherd had on this safehouse was poor…too vague and nondescript to warrant action." The older Captain shrugged. "Even if Shepherd had wanted to check out this mountain range, simply knowing that Makarov might be hiding somewhere near the Kazakhstan border just wasn't specific enough for an assault."

"And so how does this 'precious' intel help us?" Artem almost spat.

"Because we have the intel from frequency 7 too…piece the two together and we have a possibility."

"But it's just that…a possibility." The concern in Nikolai's features was rare and therefore unnerving. "My friend…this is not what you call solid intel…"

"I've gone on operations with less." Price shrugged. "And it's all we have…"

"Then it would be sensible to wait." Nikolai replied bluntly. "Gather more intel if it can be done."

"Great…And then while we're at it why don't we just hand Makarov over on a bloody platter to the Russians?" Price rolled his eyes, his grip on the table edges increasing, knuckles turning white. "We already know they're getting suspicious. The country's on fucking red alert as it is…if they have an unknown group of soldiers under their noses then they're going to go in there, sooner rather than later."

"And would it be so bad for the Russian government to take Makarov?" Nikolai hissed, his tone bitter. "They are equipped soldiers…we are scattered mercenaries on a forgotten base."

"The Russians don't know the truth about Makarov…" Price shook his head. "The most he'll be to them is a terrorist…it won't change anything."

"And that's what this is? About change? Not you blindly chasing Makarov at risk to us all?" Nikolai scoffed angrily. "Because right now, Price, my men feel as if they are fighting for your grudge…" There was a rumble of agreement from the others.

"This isn't about petty grudges…" Soap injected, his fist hitting against the wood to gain some form of quiet. "A war started a year ago…a war that should have never happened because two men designed it to. We are the only people who know that…"

"And who will listen? Tell me that!" Nikolai rolled his eyes. "Your government? Mine? We're outlaws…"

"We have the intel here…and we'll hand them Makarov as the scapegoat that he is."

"And if that is not enough?"

"It will be." Price nodded calmly, although his tone gave away his true anger. "You just have to trust me."

"Trust you?" Nikolai shrugged, looking back and forth to each of his men. "I owe you my loyalty, Price. But I have seen you be wrong many times…"

"And this time I'm certain."

"Then I will follow, my friend." The older Russian nodded solemnly. "But do not ask my men to do the same. They do not owe you that same loyalty as I do."

"…Three…"

Four hours later and the tension in the base had dissipated very little. The overall decision had been made, the plans drawn up, but after Nikolai's words had echoed solemnly through the operations room it was left up to each man's discretion as to whether he would participate in the operation. So far only three were certain; Price, Nikolai and Ghost. Unless the others came to their senses, the mission felt like it was already doomed to fail.

In the armoury, the only sound to cut through the heavy handed silence was the occasional rustle as Ghost continued to suit himself, pulling on his body armour and ensuring that it formed a snug fit that encased his torso. His gun was next as Riley meticulously checked over all the working parts, rechecking them in the manner that had been drilled into him during the SAS. After all, anyone who knew anything about the regiment knew that even though their official motto was "Who Dares Wins" a more accurate one would be "Check and check again".

"Back to the ACR then?" He'd heard Soap before he'd spoken, the larger man's footsteps easily recognisable as Riley turned round to face him.

"This gun's saved my arse more times than you." He laughed softly through his mask. "It deserves a little loyalty."

"True." Soap nodded, although his mind seemed to be elsewhere. His eyes settled on the far wall to where the spare body armour was hanging and he paused, before flicking his gaze back to Ghost. "I need you to help me with something, mate."

"What?"

"Body armour." Mactavish sighed softly. "Not sure I can pull it on myself…"

"John-"

"I know what you're going to say, Riley." The Captain quickly interrupted, lifting his hand as if to silence the lieutenant. He paused, blinking hard as if he was struggling to find the right words. "But I'm doing this. There's no way I'm staying behind again."

"You're not fit…"

"Don't try and tell me when I can and can't do my job."

"I'm trying to keep you alive, what's so fucking wrong with that?" Riley rolled his eyes. "Have you developed a death wise while I was gone?"

"You think I'm trying to get myself killed?" Soap scoffed bitterly. He opened his mouth to reply with something equally as cutting, but he stopped himself suddenly realising that the conversation was quickly getting out of control. Taking a deep breath inwards, Mactavish inwardly calmed himself, making sure his voice was controlled before he spoke again. "I realise I'm not 100%...but this is my fight, Simon. Just as much as it's yours."

"So you're going to risk yourself for nothing?" Riley however was content to argue.

"Not for nothing. We both lost one hell of a lot because of what Shepherd and Makarov did. If things were the other way around, are you really telling me that you'd want me to stop you resolving this?"

"No…" Ghost shook his head, cornered. "I'd want to go too."

"Then let me." Soap shrugged gently. "Because hunting Makarov for the past year has been all I've had left."

There was something in Soap's words that seemed to make logical sense and Riley was but a slave to the rational side of his thoughts, backing away silently and pulling a set of body armour from the wall. Slowly he slid the garment onto Soap's shoulders, pushing aside the almost fateful feeling that swelled within his stomach. However much he wanted to keep Soap away from the coming operation in his weakened state, Riley simply had to accept that he didn't have the right, not even within the 'relationship' that they shared.

"Can you move?" He was unable to hold off all the concern from his voice.

"Not really…but maybe that's best." Soap laughed softly. "I can shoot, that's what's important." He toyed with twisting in the armour, wincing slightly as he did so. "It's tighter with the bandages…"

"Do you need me to loosen it?"

"No." Mactavish shook his head bluntly. "Defeats the object of wearing it then doesn't it?" He risked Ghost a weak smile. "I'm going to be fine, mate. Like you said, it's going to take more than this lot to finish me off, eh?" He walked over to the other wall, retrieving his M16A4 as if to prove a point. "Thanks for the assist."

"I want to help." It took longer than it should have done for Ghost to realise that the voice that greeted him was not tainted by a Scottish accent and he span round, his eyes fixed on the armoury doorway. Stood in it was a defiant, if bruised Markov, his face swollen and purple, lip reddened where it had been split.

"Help?" It was the first thing Ghost could think of to say.

"To come with you." As if to assert this fact, Markov took a step into the room, visibly swallowing. "If you really want to put an end to this war…then I still want to be a part of that."

"It'll be rough…" Mactavish warned. "Maybe worse than at Hotel Bravo…"

"I don't care about that. My brother died in this false war…If there's even a chance that we can end it with Makarov…" Markov nodded, his face determined. "…Then I want to be a part of this. Whatever the cost."

"I won't lie…we need the help." Soap replied solemnly. "If you're sure, then get yourself kitted out. We need to be there before first light to do a recce."

"I understand." Almost tentatively, Markov walked slowly past Ghost, his head almost hanging. It was only when he was stood behind the lieutenant that he had the courage to turn around and speak. "…Riley?"

"…Yeah?"

"I'm sorry…for what I said about Roach." The young Russian sighed. "…I wasn't myself."

He was unable to reply with an apology with his own, even though he thought he should, so Riley merely nodded in return, a solitary, almost stoic acceptance of Markov's words. Mactavish's hand quickly squeezed at his shoulder and Ghost welcomed it, a break in the silence that seemed to have so quickly enveloped the entire room.

"Come on, mate. Let's give him some space."

They'd walked out into the artificially lit corridor only to be stopped by a line of seven of the other men on the base, each stood solemnly against the armoury. At their head was Artem, his eyes filled with the same look of discontent, arms tightly folded across his chest.

"We will come with you." He said bluntly, the words directed at Soap more than Riley, an almost aggressive tone tainting his voice. "Lev believed in this mission…wanted to put an end to this war. If nothing else, we owe at least this one thing to him." He nodded bluntly.

"Thank you."

"We're not doing this for you." Artem shook his head bluntly. "Remember that."

"…Two…"

They'd reached the Ural Mountains in the early hours, one of Nikolai's men piloting them into the area as close as he dared, forcing them to trek to the bunker on foot for the 10 kliks that remained. It had been an arduous journey, filled with rocky outcrops and steep gradients, one that had pushed Soap to the very brink of his endurance, but at least the cover of the think coniferous trees kept their movements silent and undetected on the hillside. After scouting through the area they stumbled across a rocky outcrop amongst the trees, tall enough to give them a vantage point of the bunker below, and large enough to provide them with some much needed shelter from the cold. Soap, Nikolai and the others had set about starting a fire, albeit only embers, whilst Price, Ghost and Markov had gone ahead, using the last hours of darkness to survey the bunker's surroundings. What had followed had been an uncomfortable few hours sleep on freezing ground, followed by a hushed breakfast and a morning filled with surveillance of the ground below them.

"Makarov's choice of safehouse has worked against him in our favour." Price nodded softly, presenting the rough blue prints that Ghost has managed to acquire for the bunker. "Because he's trying to keep a low profile he has no real sentries and due to the layout of the bunker there are only two possible exits. The entrance…" He pointed to the corresponding opening in the blueprints. "And the back door…a contingency plan in case the entrance was ever breached." He indicated again to the map. "We will divide into two groups. Nikolai and Artem will head team 2, who will breach the entrance and assault the bunker from the front. Myself and Soap will head team 1, breaching the rear exit." He looked up to make sure that he still had every man's full attention. "The two teams will sweep through the bunker in a pincer movement, neutralising any threats and cutting off Makarov's avenues of escape. If in the unlikely event that he manages to flank us, then two sentries will be posted at each exit point, blocking any possible escape routes… Any questions?"

"When we find Makarov…what then?" Artem asked coolly.

"Non lethal take downs only. The man is only good to us alive."

"And the rest of his men?" Nikolai asked next.

"Expendable." Price shrugged his face void of any emotion. "We don't have the resources to be taking prisoners." He raised an eyebrow, watching the others for anymore questions. All that greeted him was the occasional nod and Markov's hushed voice, providing an account in Russian for the men whose English was not as practiced as the others. "We move out at 2300 hours. There's likely to surveillance cameras at both entrances to the bunker, but by the time they see us it will be too late."

"Understood." Soap nodded quickly, trying to ignore the prickle in his skin as Artem injected him with more painkillers, whether he asked for them or not. "If you need rest…get it while you can. It's going to be a long night…"

"…One…"

Markov's heart was in his mouth. His pulse thundered in his wrists, eyes almost feeling as if they were about to bulge out of his skull due to his heightened blood pressure. He tried to grip his gun tighter, but his damp palms slid against metal, his forearms trembling. Everything he'd ever learnt, ever known as a soldier was flooding through his brain all at once, the logical part of him praying that all his training was still muscle memory, that when the frame charge finally blew it would all come flooding back; he'd remember how to shoot, how to kill and how to stay alive.

As it was, his mind had merely felt blank as the countdown continued, its pace tortuously slow.

"…Breaching!"

Markov took a deep breath, charging through the newly formed doorway after Soap, Ghost and Price. The dust cleared and he levelled his rifle. It literally was now or never…

And so we finally have a bit of excitement (at least I hope so) back into our plot. Of course, things between the team are hardly perfect, and who says this is the right safehouse in the first place? Only time will tell. But if you feel like keeping Ghost and Soap in top fighting condition with your reviews, then that would be amazing. :)

As always I am so honoured by the response this series has got, so any reviews will literally make me so ridiculously happy. :)

-x-S-x-