Update number three. A bit of a silly one involving Wallcroft and Soap. Just a bit of humour after subjecting you all to the previous chapter! xxx

Soap stared at himself in the mirror.

"I'll ask one more time." He sighed and turned to Wallcroft. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"Mate, the answer is going to stay the same no matter how many times you ask."

Soap turned back to the mirror. He was wearing a tux. A really, really nice tux. He would never say it out loud, especially in front of Wallcroft, but he felt like James Bond. He'd never owned a really nice suit and he certainly wouldn't have guessed that his first one would come courtesy of the SAS and the annual fundraising dinner held in their honour. He hadn't even know that the ball existed until two weeks ago when they had been flying home from a mission.

Soap straightened his bowtie. "Remind me again, why we're doing this."

Wallcroft sighed and stood up, brushing his own suit down. "Warfare costs money. We can't rely on the government to give us what we need all the time. They have to spread the budget across the whole military." He paused. "So we hit up the fat cats of the world for their spare cash."

It wasn't really an explanation, but Soap knew that it was the best he could hope for from Wallcroft.

"Look, all you need to do is look pretty and let the cougar wives do their thing. They see a bit of eye candy, they get in their husbands ear about how smart it is to invest in weapons for us." Wallcroft grinned. "It's simple mate."

It didn't sound simple. Soap had no clue that the SAS relied heavily on donations from these so called fat cats. He had just assumed that the government covered everything. After all, they were tasked with homeland security. Could you honestly put a price on keeping the UK safe? Apparently so. Not that he should be complaining. He had been given a beautiful suit and whisked down to London with the rest of the squad for a fancy night in The Berkeley, one of the most expensive hotels in London. The room he and Wallcroft were sharing was probably bigger than his entire home back in Scotland. He made a mental note to bring his mam and dad here the next time he got some time off. He was making good money now and he wanted to treat them.

"Hey, just be grateful that you're not Lo."

The sound of her name made his head snap towards Wallcroft. In the eight weeks since the mission in the Bering Strait she had been MIA from the Credenhill barracks. He had wanted to talk to her following their tense flight home but hadn't been able to. He had so much to ask her. He wanted to know if what he suspected was true. She had obviously developed some manner of feelings towards him. He couldn't get the image of her worry stricken face out of his mind. At night he replayed the desperation in her voice as she had begged him to get up following the blast. He thought about the journey home in the chopper where her eyes had flickered over his face as though she was imprinting it into her memory. There was a palpable atmosphere between them. He had wanted to corner her, ask her what was going on, but before he could Price had shipped her off to Russia to liaise with the leader of the Loyalist forces. Gaz and Price had flown out four weeks into her departure following news that their informant, Nikolai, had been taken captive by the Ultranationalists and was sure to be submitted to a very public, and brutal, execution. Soap had awaited their return with a nervous energy at seeing her once again, but was disappointed when only the Captain and his right hand man departed the plane. Gaz had told him later on that Lola had stayed behind to gather as much information about the Ultranationalists as she could.

"It's what she's good at." Gaz had told Soap when he had enquired as to her whereabouts. "Although, she bloody hates Kamarov." He laughed. "When we were out there doing the rescue, the idiot was keeping information about Nikolai's whereabouts from us so that we'd help his forces into taking back a village from the Ultranationalists. She tackled him and we had to stop her from hurling him off the top of a three storey building." Gaz grinned at Soap. "We learnt Nikolai's location pretty quickly after that." He stretched up. "Think what you want about that girl but she is loyal as hell to those that she cares about. Nikolai was her informant. She promised to keep him safe and when push came to shove she delivered on that promise, tenfold."

"Is she safe out there with the loyalists?"

Gaz rolled his eyes. "The clue's in the name, lad." He looked up at him. "Kamarov and his men want the ultranationalists gone. They know that we're the key to the whole thing, so they're not going to drop her just for attempting to throw the idiot Russian off a building." Gaz laughed. "Besides, I think he's equal parts terrified and besotted by her. They all are actually."

Gaz's words did nothing to settle the images in Soap's mind. She wasn't safe until she was back with him and the lads who knew her. He just wanted her to be where he could keep an eye on her, make sure no harm was done. He lay awake every night wondering what she was doing. He wished there was a way to get in touch with her. Even if just to hear her voice. There was a saying wasn't there? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Whatever feelings Soap may have had for Lola in the beginning had now doubled, tripled, quadrupled in the eight weeks since he had last seen her. He ached for her.

"Is she here?" Soap asked Wallcroft, his heart thudding against the expensive silk lining in his tux. "I didn't know she was back."

"She got here last night. Price booked her into one of the expensive suites. Decided to give her a bit of a rest following her time with the Russians." Wallcroft moved in front of the mirror. "She's his secret weapon mate, he'd never let her miss this."

"Why?"

"You've met her." Wallcroft laughed. "She could charm the skin off a snake." Soap grinned. "We're just there to distract the wives for a bit. She's the main attraction. She has the men falling hand over fist to give us money by the end of the night."

"And she doesn't mind that Price makes her do that?"

"If she does mind, then she doesn't say anything." Wallcroft told him. "I know you're all gooey-eyed over her mate, but it's all for the greater good. Guns, ammo, transport... It all comes at a price. If she can talk some man with more money than God into buying us a new chopper then let her."

"I'm not gooey-eyed over her." Soap retorted. He heard his own voice. Even he didn't believe himself.

"Mate, I'm not telling you not to be, I know it's not the easiest task in the world and you've only known her four three months so you're still a bit in awe of her, but you know the stakes for her." He clapped Soap on the back. "All's I'm saying is, don't go all oaf tonight and drag her back to your cave when you see her being pawed at by some old boy. It's just the name of the game for tonight."

Soap nodded and stared at himself in the mirror. Wallcroft was fiddling with his hair. "Is it dead gay if I tell you that I think you look good tonight? The hair looks sharp with a tux."

Soap straightened his bowtie one last time before turning around. "No need to get gooey-eyed over me mate." Wallcroft rolled his eyes as he followed Soap from the room. "And definitely don't try and drag me back here tonight after you've seen a cougar chatting me up." He smirked.

"You're not my type mate." Wallcroft shrugged. They left their room and entered the plush corridor of The Berkeley. "Too much dick, I'm afraid."

"How do you know how much dick I've got?" Soap laughed.

"Through my super secret shower camera of course." Wallcroft grinned, pressing the button for the lift. The doors opened to reveal an older couple dressed to the nines. As the hotel had been booked out by the SAS and their guests for the whole night, Soap had to assume that they were all heading to the same place. He gave them a cursory nod, before turning away to face towards the closing doors. Beside him Wallcroft pressed the button to take them to the ground floor of the hotel. "I mean, what is it? 8? Maybe 9 inches?"

Soap smirked. Wallcroft turned to the couple.

"Guns." He said. "We love a good gun talk don't we mate?" He nudged Soap.

Soap nodded in response, afraid that if he spoke that the laughter he was holding in would erupt.

"I, myself, have a good solid, 7 inch gun." Wallcroft told the couple. "It's also quite thick. Well built." He paused. "Sturdy, some might say."

Soap's shoulders began to shake as he tired to contain the laughter. The older gentleman cleared his throat loudly.

"Although, between you and I, it's not the size of the gun that matters, it's what you can do with it, eh?" Wallcroft winked at the woman.

The doors opened and Soap moved from the life quickly, his laughter finally getting the better of him. Behind him Wallcroft was bidding the couple goodnight. "Make sure you try the salmon puffs." He said. "They are to die for."

Soap steadied himself against the wall as the laughter shook through his body. He looked up when Price emerged in front of him. He looked completely bizarre in a tuxedo. He'd even brushed his hair and trimmed his unruly beard.

"Everything okay there, lad?"

Soap straightened himself up and faced his Captain. Wallcroft appeared at his side.

"We were just talking about guns." He told Price, handing Soap a glass of what he assumed to be champagne. Price pulled a face and grunted before walking away.

"I've never seen it but I'm going to assume that Price is packing a gun bigger than all of ours combined."

Soap dissolved into laughter. "I don't reckon you're wrong there mate."

"Right, as much as I'm enjoying the innuendo gun chat, how about we go and mingle? Do the old man proud."

Soap straightened himself up and knocked back the champagne in one go. It was sweet and bitter all at the same time. He pulled a face. He'd have to find some good whiskey if he was to enjoy this night.

"Ready to be thrown to the cougars?" Wallcroft asked, his face breaking out into his signature cheeky grin.

"Ready as I'll ever be."