At the close end of this chapter, there will me a small section that contains a diary entry. Originally, there were words added that are crossed out, to make the section feel more personal. Unfortunately, I do not know how to implement this here. Instead, I opted to use this (underline) instead. I hope it's still easy enough on the eyes. Enjoy.
As darkness settled over the quiet desert, two vehicles could be seen racing over the sandy hills. Halting in a small ravine, the jeeps were kept on, while the inhabitants left the safety of the metal constructions with quick and precise moves.
The night air was unpleasant on my cool, sweaty skin as I jumped out of the jeep, aching and tired feet digging into the sand beneath. Unfortunately, none of us had the luxury to unwind yet. With a strained, quiet exhale, I turned on my heels, leaned back into the jeep and pulled out the laptop from beneath my seat. Holding it firmly in my hands, I walked up to the small containers someone else had placed on the ground just between both of the jeep's headlights beforehand and squatted down. Narrowing my eyes at the blinding light entering my sensitive eyes, I placed the device hastily on its designated spot. Pulling it open, I began establishing a solid connection between Shepherd, Laswell and us.
Meanwhile, Alejandro and Soap dragged a hooded Hassan out of the second jeep and forced him on his knees behind me. I felt the hairs on my neck stand up, as the realization slowly seeped into my overworked bones. This is an interrogation. Flexing my jaw, I concentrated on the small, slick keyboard when the faces of our general and chief came into view on the screen; the former with a grim expression and the latter with a cigarette between her fingers.
"How's the picture?" I asked into the round.
"Crystal." Shepherd answered as I watched him lean forward, closer to the camera.
Taking that as my cue, I signalled to my teammates everything was set and moved aside, letting them take over from there. Walking back towards the car I arrived in, I paused at the front door. A debate ensued in my head, a fight between curiosity and uneasiness. When the imaginary pin dropped, I yanked the door open and sat on the edge of the seat. My interest had overthrown the restlessness. Just as I looked back up, I saw Alejandro pull the makeshift bag from Hassan's head and I sucked in a breath.
The scenery before my eyes, felt surreal, as if I was watching a movie unfold right before my very eyes. The two jeeps were parked somewhat opposite of each other, with both pointing into the same direction, allowing the headlights to create a well-lit up centre. There, right in the heart of it all, sat Hassan, his head held high, showing no fear in the eye of the storm. Surrounding him were Alejandro, a rifle held securely in his right hand, fingers on the trigger and Soap, with his eyes practically glued to the Major, watching his every move with hawk-like precision. Graves was just walking up to them, authority oozing from him with every powerful step he took.
I quietly watched over the exchange, before my mind wandered elsewhere. I wasn't sure how to categorize this- this interaction. What exactly was I supposed to make of it? What was I required to feel? It was necessary, I knew that, but it felt inhuman, morally wrong. Straying even further away from the present, I thought back on the flight back to base. Just as we landed, Soap had already pulled me out of my warm seat and onto the landing platform. My whole body hurt, as he lifted my arm over his shoulder and guided me to the medical wing.
I felt touched by the Sergeants compassion. It wasn't that I couldn't move on my own, the worse was behind me, and while my muscles ached, and my bones quivered, I would have made it on my own. The aspect that I could walk after the crash I was in, meant I should be relatively alright, right? Beside the nasty cut on my head. Regardless, Soap took it upon himself to help me. "Don't want ye to make it any worse, do we?" he had said as he held me upright, while everyone else scattered, but not without some curt nods and soft pats on the back.
At the medical centre, the Sergeant guided me easily onto a chair, letting the commissioned officer take over from there. I was questioned, prodded, and generally quickly taken cared off. The slit on my head, was swiftly cleaned out and properly shut close. Just as Ghost had assured me, the cut wasn't deep enough, which prompted the medic to use thin yet strong adhesive bandages instead of stitching it up. All things considered; I was in a very good shape. A couple more cuts and bruises here and there, but nothing major nor unbearable. Overall, I was a damn lucky bastard. The car that rammed into our side could have knocked me out differently, the fire could have nipped me before I would have woken up, I could have been shot-
A phone being held under my nose, brought me back to the present. I followed the hand that held the small device up to the owner's face. Ghost. Snatching the phone promptly out of his hands, I slid out of the seat after he took a step back and pulled my portable tablet out, connecting it to, what I assumed was, Hassan's phone. Placing them carefully down, I leaned over both gadgets and easily eased into my element. I searched through every nook and cranny and with every second that passed without any useful results, I felt myself growing more worried and restless.
But then I saw it, a small glimpse of hope and I followed it, with a self-assured smirk pulling at the corners of my mouth. Hassan, or whoever set up his phone, was good. Very good. But I was better.
"You're in bed with the cartel, Hassan. If you disappeared, no one would know where to look for the fuckin' stain." I heard Graves's threat in the background.
Hassan scoffed. "I have no doubt you'll take pleasure in torturing me."
I instantly felt sickness flood my system. Would I dare watch if they decided to pick a more violent approach? Would I have the heart to participate? The man is a monster, but would I taint my own hands with his blood? Could I do it?
"Who'd you get American missiles from?" Soap's thick Scottish accent invaded my ears, and I perked up. A second chance. We could finally get the answer! Simultaneously, I had a bad feeling burry itself in the lowest parts of my gut, a hunch, that wouldn't leave me alone. A distant understanding. Still, I held onto the faith while I patiently awaited Hassan's answer.
"I don't care who they're from, I wanna know where they're going." Shepherd interfered before the prisoner even had a chance to answer.
I looked sharply at the Lieutenant who stood to my left. Did you just hear that? He is actively trying to evade anyone answering that question! Again! For fucks sake, get your darn heads out of the gutter. I held two fingers into the air, not being comfortable enough to whisper my bitter thoughts aloud. That's the second time now! Second. Time. Does no one realize how irritating it is? I pulled my hand back and loomed quietly over the electronics on the seat.
Am I going crazy?
Shepherd disregarded the question yet again. The first time, I waved it off. I had no ultimate reason to distrust our general, and after thinking it over, I might have blown it out of proportion. But now? It couldn't be, that he interfered a second time. Why was it, that the general did not want to hear the answer to this question? Hypothetically, if Shepherd knew where they came from, why wouldn't he inform us?
The question caused a strange emotion to swim to the surface. I began doubting myself, doubting my sanity. What if it really didn't matter where they came from? After all, we needed to know where they were headed to and not where they were manufactured. But wouldn't it help if we knew? It would certainly make it easier to reconstruct the journey… What if the manufacturer has the means to create more? Wouldn't we want to prevent that?
Yelling pulled me away from my line of thought and I looked over again to see a livid Hassan shout in his native language at Graves.
"I want this bastard in permanent custody or looking up at the goddamn grass…" Shepherd howled through the screen.
"General, killing Hassan is an act of war, keeping him is illegal. Right now, he is too hot to hold." Laswell stepped in.
Graves walked furiously to the laptop, grabbed it, and waltzed with it to the nearest vehicle. Placing it heatedly on the car's hood, he came dangerously close to the webcam.
"Actual. Let me finish this." Graves pleaded firmly.
I kept my eyes firm on his body language. In this instant, I didn't trust him nor his judgement. I estimated he was the kind of guy, that threw out all of his morals when enraged and being messed with, especially in front of others. He was seething. I could firmly see several ideas being played out in his head, but none were morally correct nor appropriate. Killing Hassan would spark war. Keeping him locked, was illegal. Letting him go, will probably bite us in the ass sometime down the road. None of these options looked appealing right now. But we had no other choice.
Graves hands formed into a fist and sweat dripped down the side of his face.
I took a slight step back, accidentally bumping into Ghost that stood behind me. Whipping my head around, I whispered a hushed sorry and took a small step forward again.
"There is nothing I would like more. But Laswell's right. Without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us." Shepherd remarked with bitterness lacing his words.
Soap barged in on the scene, pushing himself in the vicinity of the camera. He was angry too, with the difference that his anger seemed contained. He did not look like he was about to lose control and commit a war crime, unlike the hothead next to us. "He's right here. You can't be serious!" He growled in utter disbelief. I felt his frustration, but there was nothing else we could do.
"I'm afraid I am, son." Shepherd spoke.
With Shepherds last word being said, I returned to my own task and tuned out everyone else. Just in time, I cracked the last obstacle. Pictures, documents, and texts flooded the screen. Proudly, I forwarded everything to Laswell, making sure I kept a copy of my own. Just in case. Disconnecting the gadgets from one another, I hurriedly stuffed the tablet back into my pocket while giving the treacherous phone back to Ghost. In return, he skilfully slipped it into the prisoners back pocket while he was hauled past us.
In a couple of hours, Hassan will be a free man again. An obstacle, my future self will have to take care off. The only thing I craved at the moment was a warm shower and a soft bed.
It was in the dead of the night when I slowly awoke from my restless sleep. At first, I tried to ignore the uneasy racing of my heart, the sweat that clung to my feverish skin and the breathing that seemed to get shorter and faster with every intake I took. But soon I felt dizziness creep up onto me. Pressing my eyes shut in annoyance, I pulled myself to a sitting position and tried opening them. Feeling the soft fabric of my balaclava press against my eyelashes, I understood quickly that my mask must have moved in the night. Carefully patting for the cut-out that usually left my eyes uncovered, I made it out to be on the side of my head instead. Pushing it back into place, I narrowed my eyes as the dark room seemed to be spinning.
Closing my eyes in shock, I hunched forward as I began to feel nauseous. Placing a hand on my chest, I felt my heart beating in a frenzy under my cool fingers. Worry began to bubble up in the pit of my stomach, as my breathing had not calmed down either. Yanking my head back up, I looked to the side, remembering I was not alone in the room I was currently in. I caught sight of Soap, who was tangled up in his blanket, one leg hanging over the side of the bed. Listening closely, I could hear faint snoring coming from his direction. Looking beyond his bed, I saw Ghost with his back turned towards me. I could not exactly determine if he was awake or asleep, but by the slow rising and falling of his shoulders, I guesses it was the latter.
Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I noticed my hands were trembling when I held them up. I felt panic wash over me, as I realized my condition did not get better since I had awoken. Slowly standing up, I nearly fell over as my head began to spin and the room tilted on its axis. Holding onto dear life, I stood still, eyes pressed shut to eliminate the loss of balance I experienced. Gradually opening them again, I tried moving one leg at a time. Bit by bit, I made my way to the door that led to the small common room. I had nearly made it there with no incidents, when my head spun violently, and I crashed to the ground. It was a relatively soft crash, as I had managed to grab the doorframe on my way to the ground, but it hurt, nonetheless. Wrapping my hand around my aching ankle, I pressed my forehead against my knee and bit down on my tongue. When the ache subdued, I looked over my shoulder. Soap still seemed fast asleep, while Ghost was not in my line of sight anymore.
Holding my breath in fear, I began to move again when I was certain that I had not woken up the two men behind me. Reaching out to the doorknob, I pushed the door open with a small creaking noise. Crawling my way into the living room, I softly shut the door behind me with a quiet click. Taking several breaths, I lazily pulled myself off the ground again. Standing on shaky legs, I wobbled my way across the room. I did not make it far, when I tripped over my own feet and fell beside the couch I was just about to pass. Grabbing the sofa tightly in frustration and anger, I tried to pull myself up again. It was all in vain, as I had no strength left in me.
Leaning my forehead against the cushioned armrest defeated, I stared at the fabric with horror-stricken eyes. I was slowly losing control, panic eating me up from the inside out. I pressed my hand against my chest, swearing that I would cage in my own heart if it meant keeping it in my ribcage. Thrusting my nails into the soft flesh, I was briefly grounded from the pain that bloomed around my stiff fingers. Using that moment to my advantage, I scrambled through my hazy mind, and searched for a melody I could hum. My comfort song. Finding what I was looking for, I pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the couch and concentrated on my small, broken and muffled voice.
"Our hero, our hero, claims the warriors heart. I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes. With a voice wielding power of the ancient nord arts. Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes."
My grip on the armchair grew with every breath I took, turning my knuckles white.
"It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes. Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes. For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows. You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborns come..."
Soon my voice wavered, as my lips trembled under the mask and I bit down harshly, refusing to shed tears.
"Ascii?" I heard the familiar voice of the Sergeant call out into the darkness. My head shot into his direction, eyes pressing shut as I felt the room tilt from my sudden movement. Cursing, I stilled all my actions and prayed for my mind to stop spinning.
"Are you alright?" Soap asked again, voice closer to my ears than what I had heard before. Flinching as his warm fingers wrapped themselves around my wrist, he pulled my hand away from my chest. I was about to answer him that I was alright, when another voice resonated through the room.
"Johnny? What's going on?" Fuck, it was Ghost.
"I-" Soap began to answer but I cut him off. "Nothing, nothing's g- going on." I answered, already out of breath from one simple sentence. "I- I'm sorry if I woke you up. I thought I was quiet enough…" I was now wheezing loudly. My head slumped forward, as I tried to catch my breath.
"Steamin' Jesus, lass. Lt., her pulse is abnormally high." The moment those words left Soap's mouth I ripped my hand out of his grip. Anger and hurt flooding my already overstimulated system, I hunched forward, mouth wide open as I tried to get enough oxygen into me. I was furious with him, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but I couldn't. My thoughts were spiralling, my desperation evident in the way I tried to make myself as small as possible. I did not want anyone witnessing my breakdown, let alone my own teammates. I despised myself in that moment, for waking them up, for not being subtle enough, for not keeping it at bay. I wanted to disappear, to vanish from the face of the earth. I felt bile rise in my throat, my chest tightening as I struggled to keep the gates closed. I wanted to be alone… I wanted to cease to exist.
"Fuck." Ghost whispered. Soap still crouched before her, eyes full of worry as he alternated between watching Lt. and watching Ascii. The Lieutenant squeezed himself beside Soap, and carefully touched her shoulder. She was unresponsive to his touch. "Fucking hell Johnny, she's having a full-blown panic attack." Ghost revealed, voice low as he gave it his best not to scare her any further. Pulling his hand away from Ascii's shoulder, he bit down on his tongue and began reaching out to her face, when Soap interrupted him.
"Lt. look, under her right collarbone… she nearly drew fuckin' blood!" He mumbled in disbelieve. Ghost's eyes involuntarily slid past his hand that had now stopped mid-air, down her exposed throat. There, just above her low-cut collar, he could distinguish several small angry bruises. At closer inspection, the cuts itself were barely a centimetre big, but deep enough to have drawn the faintest droplets of blood. "She drew blood, Johnny…" He uttered, tearing his eyes from her blotchy skin, he focused back on her face. "Ascii?" He called out. "Do you copy?" Only her hectic panting filled their ears in the otherwise dead quiet room.
Ghost held his breath and with a lot of tactfulness and fine feeling, moved his hands slowly closer to her face. It wasn't often that he found himself in situations where he wasn't certain what the right course of action was, but lately he seemed to be surrounded by these sorts of situations more often than not. It was throwing him off balance. He was used to working alone, acting on his own terms, caring for only himself, might it be physical or psychical. He never had to worry about anyone else for longer periods, the people he usually worked with, would be either gone after the mission was complete or replaced…
"Lt., we need to get her mask off, she can't even breathe properly!" Soap voiced his agitation, unknowingly grounding the man beside him. Ghost's eyes bore into Ascii's overflowing ones, searching for any indications that he should stop with his advances. Not seeing any reactions, he slowly cupped her cheek and softly forced her to look up. Her eyes tore themselves from the ground and fixated on his face. Holding her gaze, he leaned slightly forward and toucher her balaclava with his other hand. Grabbing the soft material with three strong fingers, he halted. "Sinja." For the first time, he said her name, hoping it would stir some sort of emotions in her, ineffectively. Despite the small set back, he pushed on. In preparation for what he was about to do, he announced his intentions with a clear and firm voice. "I will now push your mask up."
There was no verbal answer, just a small shudder, followed by more quick panting.
Flexing his jaw, he tugged at her mask and slowly lifted it away from her throat, ultimately sliding it up and over her chin. He didn't come as far as he had counted on when her hands shot up and enclosed his wrists in her delicate fingers. Her grip was strong, her knuckles turning white from the pressure she applied on his wrists.
"It's okay love. We only want ya to be able to breathe again. We won't pull it off yer head. Lt. here, will just push it far enough up that yer nose n' mouth are clear." Soap explained effortlessly, having been waiting for her to react to Ghost's execution of his plan. To further calm her, he gently placed one hand on top of hers. He hid his surprised reaction, when he felt her ice-cold fingers under his warm touch and held his breath. Her eyes flickered between both of them up until she squeezed her eyes shut, dropped her steel-tight grip, and let her hands slide from their skins.
The man in the mask gradually continued, rolling the balaclava further up and securing it firmly on the bridge of her nose. Satisfied, yet cautious, he let go and leaned back. Would that be enough to help her regain her composure? Only time would tell. Glancing at the Sergeant, he caught him studying Ascii's newly exposed facial features. With a deep sigh, Ghost turned his head and looked at her as well. Both watched as her hectic breathing slowly began to regulate itself again. Both followed her with their eyes, as she leaned back her head, took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then slowly let it out.
I opened my eyes slowly. The Sergeant and Lieutenant were observing me. Suddenly feeling very naked under both their penetrating gaze, I turned my face to the side, evading their eyes and partly their attention.
"How are you feelin', bonnie lass?" Soap asked tenderly.
"I- I'm better." I stuttered with a small voice. That is why I preferred to keep myself in the background. Any lengthy attention devoted to me, and I become a flustered and stuttering mess. Biting the bullet, I looked up at them, with a genuine smile. "Thank you, for helping me. And I am so, so sorry for waking you up." I looked at the ground riddled by guilt.
"Are you sure yer good?" Soap repeated.
"Yes…" My voice broke and I repeated myself. "Yeah, I'm good." Part of me wanted to express how hurt I really was. How far away from okay I actually was. But they were both my superiors, and I haven't known them long enough to be acquainted with their personalities.
"It's a sin to lee on the diel. Ya can entrust us with the truth, Ascii. We don't distinguish your worth by yer vulnerability." The Sergeant declared lightly.
My eyes instantly glazed over, and I blinked. "Sorry." I whispered. "I- I distinguish my worth by my actions. And I don't want to seem weak."
"Sometimes, letting it out shows more strength than keeping it in." Ghost announced with a gravelly voice.
"I don't think you understand…" I wanted to explain further, but I had to pause as all the emotions were overwhelming me. I felt a thousand stings behind my eyes, scratching in my throat, pain in my chest. My eyebrows lowered and my vision blurred when I detected Soap coming steadily closer. "I'll- I'll cry." I whimpered shoulders shook violently, and I pulled my mask back over my face, as the tears spilled. Pushing the palms of my hands into my eyes, the crying only intensified until the only sounds dancing through the room were my heart clenching sobs.
It didn't take long for two warm hands to be placed on my back and pull me in their secure embrace, causing me to bump with my forehead against the persons chest. "It's okay. It's okay to cry, love." Soap expressed with such tenderness; my heart did a double take. Pulling my hands away from my bawling eyes, I slithered them around his torso and grabbed the back of his shirt as if my life depended on it. Turning my face to the side, I pressed my ear against his chest and listened to his quickening heartbeat.
"Will you think less of me?" I asked between my weeping fits.
"No." "Never." Came the immediate answer, from both of them.
"You are too kind. Why are you so kind? I-" A bile rose up in my throat, and I swallowed harshly. With a stuffed nose, I was only able to breathe through my mouth, which hindered my desire to talk.
"Kind? This is not kindness; this is the norm that should be upheld at all times." He replied. I could feel his hand on my shoulder blades, drawing circles into my trembling bones with his thumb, while the other held the back of my neck gingerly. It was a very intimate embrace, and I savoured every second of it.
"I have done absolutely nothing to gain it." I breathed. "Today… Today in the mountains." The resurfacing memories made me bite down on my tongue with anger and sadness. "My idiocy could have cost us our life's. I was afraid to jump. A soldier, should not be paralyzed to the point they can't even move!" Another wave of tears fell from my burning eyes.
"It was not your fault…" Soap tried to reason with me, but I cut him off by slightly pulling away.
"John." I pronounced his name affectionately. "It was my fault. This one is entirely on me. I am afraid of heights, have always been and usually, I can overcome it when it matters most but not this time... If Ghost had not taken me under his wing, I would… I would… God…" Defeated I pushed my face into my hands and let the tears stream freely down my arms. "Fuck me." I mumbled into my hands.
Look how pathetic you are? Crying your heart out in front of your superiors. What kind of soldier are you? The. Worst. You are an emotional wreck. How long until the Captain hears of this and sends you home?
He wouldn't do that.
Or would he?
"Ghost?" I called out into the darkness, after I wiped away my excessive tears and snuffled out my inner monologue. "Thank you. For saving my life."
"Naturally." A meagre reply, but better than nothing.
Slowly I began to get my composure back. The sniffling lessened, the tears dried out, my body calmed down, while I was still in the presence of both men. It was humiliating. They have seen me at my worst. At my lowest.
"What else are ya afraid of?" Soap asked out of the blue.
Embarrassing myself. Making a mistake. Not being good enough. Being weak. Life. I am afraid to live.
I turned my head to the side and placed a finger on my lips while I composed a better answer. Locking onto a wall, I did not notice the eyes that stared back at me at first. Two white sclera's seemingly hovering over the ground at a reasonable height. When I did, I blinked several times and narrowed my eyes. It was the Lieutenant. He must have changed positions while I was in Soap's embrace. I broke up the eye contact, with a bitter taste filling my mouth.
"I've sadly got a couple… Do you want to hear them all?" I questioned a still kneeling Soap. He nodded in my direction with, what I could only call, certainty.
I took a much-needed deep breath. "I am afraid of not upholding the standards in this team. I am afraid of disappointing people or worse, causing suffering and in the absolute worst case, grief. My strengths lie in decoding and extracting files. While I did rise uncharacteristically quickly in the ranks, I wonder if I wasn't put in here too soon." I laughed bitterly.
"Do you regret joining?"
"No."
"Do you think it's too much for you to handle?"
Is it too much? Is it? It isn't, isn't it? I am just afraid. Afraid of seeing my men drop like flies.
"I- I don't think so."
"You are just afraid of ending up alone. Like the rest of us." Soap smiled sadly at me. "This fear is holding ye back, sweetheart. You'll have to accept it. That's the hard truth when joinin' a military career."
"I know." I whispered sorrowfully. "I-" My voice died down. Haven't you said enough? Haven't you bored them enough with your troubles? My inner voice snarled at me.
"Go on." Soap urged me on with kindness.
"I've also got mundane fears. One of 'em you saw yesterday. Others would be the endless depths of the ocean and darkness. Not like the one surrounding us now. It's more connected to being alone somewhere at night. When you don't see your surroundings clearly and you fear something, or someone could jump out and attack you. Mostly it's my own imagination playing a prank on me, but sometimes there's men…" I looked up, hoping Soap had understood what I was playing at.
He didn't seem to.
"I'm afraid of men." I intertwined my fingers.
"Men?" He asked puzzled.
"Men, especially when angry, are terrifying." I began explaining in a quiet voice. "Have you ever been at the receiving end of a near beating just because you weren't laughing at the persons joke? When their punch misses you by a hair and you begin to wonder, when that hair won't be there anymore. Or when they really want to… Sleep with you. How dare you say no to such an offer. They will try everything in their power to make you comply, disregarding the human before them completely. They approach you with sweet talking, gentle touches-" my fingers gripped the soft flesh on my hips, "here or-" I slid one hand over my stomach, while the other slipped lower, caressing my hypersensitive thighs."-here and you can't help it, your body reacts regardless. And you finally give in to make it stop, to eventually be left alone." I took a shaky breath. The anger that suddenly flared in the pit of my stomach from the memories I awoke, was sickening. "Instead, you are left with only a shell of your former self."
Stillness settled between us. No one dared to speak or move, there was only the rhythmical noises our breathing called forth. Sheepishly, I teared my eyes from my intertwined fingers and looked at Soap. He was still seated before me. His eyes were casted downwards. Glancing to my side, I spotted Ghost still standing at the far end of the room. The moon that shone through the nearby window, cast him in an eerie light, but what caught my attention, were his eyes. I have never seen them as expressive as they were now.
I gulped involuntarily.
"I seem to have gotten out of hand. Sorry 'bout that." I laughed awkwardly, nervously scratching the back of my neck. "I- Yeah, that's it."
No reaction.
"When did it happen? Have you reported it?" Soap bombarded me with questions.
"Report it?" I smiled weakly. "Joh- Soap." I decided mid-sentence, to revert back to his callsign. I have already slipped once, that's enough. He had not given me permission to use his given name. "This happened before I joined the army."
"Doesn't matter. Did ya report him?"
"Report for what? It wasn't… I gave him my consent. I couldn't have reported him."
He suddenly sprang into action, causing me to flinch in surprise. Taking my hands swiftly into his, he stood up and pulled me gently with him. My body lifted with ease, and I masked my astonishment at his strength with a glance at my feet. When he was sure, I was secure on them, he let go and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That? That was not consent. You were pressured into giving in." He insisted.
"I may have been… But I said yes. Willingly or unwillingly, I. Said. Yes." I whispered back, staring straight at him. It broke my heart seeing him this way. He looked helpless as he stared into my eyes. I felt like an ass. He asked me a simple question, and I absolutely obliterated it with my answers. I felt the sudden urge to turn back time, to take back the things I have said, just to forget the look he was giving me. It hurt, it hurt so badly. "Please do believe me, that I am fine. It happened a long time ago, and I have since learned to live with it. I have moved on."
I was lying. I was lying for the sake of moving past it. I didn't think it would bother him that much. I didn't think he would act the way he did. You didn't think. As per usual. Stupid girl.
"A'm so sorry." Soap stammered.
What have I done?
"Don't be silly." I shot a small smile his way. "I should be the one apologising. I've burdened you with my… troubles."
"Na, you have shared yer story. You didn't burden us; you broke down yer pain and laid it out." He stepped slightly closer and carefully grasped my hands, lifting them up to the height of his chest. "Yer allowed to share, whatever ya wish with us. You are a part of this task force as much as anyone else is a part of it. And although ya may have less experience than we do, ya sure as hell are pullin' yar own weight." He spoke, squeezing my hands reassuringly. "We've got ya back, Ascii."
The words dripped like warm honey down my dry throat. My eyes glazed over. "Thank you." I choked out and returned the hold with a squeeze on my own. I wanted to hug him again, to show him my gratitude with actions and not only words. The urge was unbearable. Curtly, I pulled my hands out of his grip, turned my face to the side and crashed into his chest clumsily. I gripped the soft fabric of his shirt and held him tight. "Thank you." I exclaimed again before letting him go and stepping back, warmth spreading over my cheeks and ears. "Sorry for… Jumping on you." I mumbled embarrassed.
"'Tis fine." He quickly declared with a boyish grin.
Summoning into my mind that we weren't alone, my head snapped to the side. Ghost was still there, unmoving. Stepping slowly closer, I called out in concern. "Ghost?" No reaction. Glancing at Soap behind me, he was walking up to him as worriedly as I felt. "Lt.?" He uttered.
Still no reaction.
Exchanging glances, I carefully stepped up to the quiet man. I observed he was slightly hunched forward, as if in pain, yet his eyes did not convey such emotion. He was staring through his eyebrows, brows that peeked from under his balaclava for the first time. They were drawn low, pressed together, creating a deep furrow. If I didn't know any better, I would have guessed he was furious. But there was something else written in his eyes, something darker. They portrayed hurt and shock, and I could faintly see his pupils move, as if he was focusing and unfocusing them…
"Where are you right now, Ghost?" I whispered into the silence.
Casting my head downward, I felt my heart sink when I saw his hands balled up into tight fists. I could see the knuckles had turned white from the pressure. Carefully raising my own hand, I hesitantly touched his. At first, I only brushed against the back of his hand, but slowly I felt confident enough to advance. Wrapping my fingers around his tight fist, careful to press down on his thumb in case I startle him, and he takes a swing, I brushed my thumb against his palm and looked up. He blinked.
"Simon?" I softly called his name. His eyes flung to mine, and I sucked in a startled breath. "Are you alright?" I asked, swallowing harshly, and ignoring the racing of my own heart.
"I think he's in shock."
"In shock?" I asked alarmed. This was not my intention… I felt horrible. What do I do? How can I help?
I lightly slipped my hands up his arms, over his shoulders and on his back. Stepping on the tip of my toes, I stretched my whole body and reluctantly embraced him. "It's okay. We are here. You are not alone. S- Simon. It's alright…" I whispered past his head.
Was my story really that barbaric? I would have never guesses I could cause someone else distress by it. In my humble opinion, it didn't sound as terribly as people seemed to perceive it. Have I become so accustomed to being treated poorly that I downplay every negative interaction I endure?
I tensed when I felt Ghost's arms wrap themselves around my body under my arms and lay aptly on my back. I watched him prop his chin on my shoulder and let out a loud, long sigh. Side glancing, I stood motionless, uncertain if he wanted me to comfort him further or move away.
"I didn't mean to cause you discomfort. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-" I mumbled with stinging eyes.
"Stop apologizing for things you can't control." Ghost answered and pulled away. The sudden cold that wrapped itself around me, caused shivers to erupt over my arms and back. He easily rose to his full height and placed a hand on my head, keeping his distance otherwise. "Laswell put you onto this team because she believed in you. It is time, you begin to believe in yourself as well." He gave me two sweet pats, then he looked at Soap, nodded and walked away.
I stood stunned beside Soap and stared into the void. What just happened? I had so many questions; what memories resurfaced to cause him such pain? Was the hug, okay? Does he even like physical contact? What if he didn't even like it and I forced myself onto him? What about the look the sergeant and him shared? I was still wrapping my head around all those questions when the connotation of his last spoken sentence finally registered in my head. Another first; an endorsement.
"See lass, everyone sees yar potential!" Soap announced and slapped me on my shoulder.
I was still processing everything.
"You, okay?" Soap proceeded to ask me.
"Ah yes, yes." I laughed, flustered. "I didn't expect him to… Well, to compliment me."
"Why not?"
"He seems like a very private person and someone to tends to keep their opinion to themself."
"Perhaps. But maybe, he really felt you needed to hear it."
"Yeah." I mumbled. "Possibly." I smiled.
Clumsily, I fumbled with my fingers. I was indecisive of what to do next. Would I be able to fall back asleep if I laid on my bed? Should I just stay awake instead? Excusing myself momentarily, I walked back into the sleeping quarters, and stealthily looked around. Ghost wasn't there. Disappointed, I walked to my bed and grabbed the backpack that laid beside it. Opening the hidden compartment at the bottom, I pulled out my journal, and walked back into the common room. I was about to speak when I noticed Soap was also gone. Dumbfounded, I simply sat on the couch and turned on the small lamp on. Hissing at the brightness, I shut my eyes until they accustomed themselves to the newfound light.
Leaning back, I grabbed my journal. Sliding my fingertips over the distressed leather, I pulled at the straps that kept it closed and leisurely flicked through the numerous pages. I had begun filling it up with stories and small drawings as a way to cope with the stress that the missions and the army itself put on me. It was one of the easiest ways to endure the pain and suffering a soldier faces in battle, beside venting to people they trust. However, if you don't have access to the latter, the first option comes in during a time of dire need.
Settling for a new, empty page, I began filling it up. My pen flew over the pages, turning letters into words, words into sentences. I wrote about our mission, what had happened, what went wrong, how I felt in those moments. I drew a small sketch of Rodriguez, addressing his death in my own way. I was nose deep in my trauma dump when the couch dipped under a new added weight. Yelping, I nearly flung my book across the room.
"Jesus, fuck."
"Sorry, ah thought ye heard me."
"Nah, it's okay though. I wasn't paying attention." I took a deep breath and laid my journal on my lap.
He smiled my way when I noticed his eyes drift over my journal. Slightly insecure, my fingers twitched. They wanted to close the book, but I refrained. I had nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, he wouldn't be able to read the text from his position, as I wrote in a very neat and small font.
"You like to write?" Soap asked thrilled.
"Yeah, sometimes I even draw… Or like, try to. It's more doodles than anything. I am out of practice." I scolded myself inwardly for downplaying my own skills. I wasn't bad by any means, just a perfectionist that hated even the smallest mistakes.
"Ya draw?" He asked excitedly. "May I see 'em?"
I hesitated at first, scared he'd be disgusted by my drawings, but ultimately decided to show him. Turning a couple of pages back, I skipped on a drawing from Price, praying he didn't catch a glimpse of it…
"You drew the Captain?" My face heated up and I began to stutter.
"T-to my defence… I-I was bored okay." It was a small quick sketch of him. His head was slightly bowed down, eyebrows furrowed, he was concentrating on the stack of papers he held in his hands. "I had read the missions papers the evening prior… So, I already knew what was coming up… and in my boredom I began… well I drew what I was seeing okay."
Soap stared at me and began chuckling. "T'was no need to explain it to me. Yer not the only one that gets bored at times." His laugh went on and I smiled, relieved. "You actually caught his pout. Well done!"
His compliment went straight to my head, and I wondered what the correct response was. I was awful at taking compliments. "Thank you!" I responded simply, fumbling with the page nervously. "Do you draw as well? Or write?" I asked shyly, redirecting his attention from me, back to himself.
"I actually do."
"You do?! You like to draw? And write?" I spoke eagerly. Putting the pen between the open pages, I scooted closer to him, as he opened his own journal, he had brought with him. He showed me a couple of pages containing small lists, mission details and doodles of all kinds of things. Food, people, structures. He skipped one page and my eyes landed on a drawing of Ghost. The details were breathtaking. "Holy, that one is really good! How did you… when did you manage to gather all those details? Jesus." I looked up and saw him smiling self-assuredly.
"A magician never reveals his tricks!" He explained proudly.
"Well okay then Houdini!" I snorted when a memory slipped to the front of my mind. "Do you wanna see a sketch of him I did? Mind you, I did not know how he looked like back then. I only knew his name and that he wore a mask with a skull." I whispered, glancing around comically, as if I was making sure that we were alone and only Soap could hear it.
"Oh absolutely!"
Pushing the pen to the side, I flicked through the book back to the beginning. There, sprawled on two pages, was Ghost or rather, a different version of him. He wore a simple black balaclava with white markings that were supposed to simulate a skull. To hide his eyes, I added dark sunglasses, which were held up by a pair of headphones. For clothes, I decided to give him a fluffy grey hoodie and simple gloves. The rest was up to the interpreter, as the page wasn't big enough. Looking at it a moment longer, I turned the book to the side and held it towards Soap. He took it carefully in his hands and whistled. "Steamin' Jesus. That's a really cool design! You should show it to him. I reckon you could even make him wear it."
"Wear it? You think so?" I held a hand under my chin and tried to imagine it.
"Why not? He already owns some dark shades and a balaclava with a skull on it. The only thing missing would be a woollen hoodie. And the rest that… Didn't fit on the page." He pointed with his finger at my drawing.
"Pants and stuff?" I asked and he nodded. "Well, I did think about it when I drew him. I would have added simple brown camo pants and a similar vest. Maybe some extra belts on his thighs and a knee pad. Oh, and a pair of boots…" I trailed off.
"You really thought that through." He wiggled his eyebrow at me.
I snatched my journal back and stammered something along the lines of being bored and having enough free time. We continued talking a bit longer until both of us grew silent. Soap was scribbling into his own journal, and I being buried deep in my own thoughts. In no time I caught myself forgetting what I was thinking about. My eyes began to feel droopy, and my head would fall forward several times just for me to jerk back up in an attempt to stay awake. This went on for a while longer, until I got too tired to care and fell asleep, my journal slipping from my fingers.
When Ghost walked into the common room in the early wee hours of the morning, he stopped short when he noticed the two individuals sitting on the sofa. Quietly stepping closer, he smiled under his mask at the sight that greeted him. Ascii was sound asleep, cheek resting on Soap's shoulder, while the Sergeants head was propped up against hers. Pulling a phone out of his back pocket, he quickly took a picture of the two sleeping companions, remembering a certain member having taken a photo of them while they were asleep on the airplane.
His eyes softened slightly, as he gazed at the picture on his phone. Now there were two of us with a hidden memory, he thought as he stared at it. Catching himself admiring the picture for far too long, he dropped the phone in his pocket and waltzed straight to Soap's bed. Yanking the covers off of it, he carefully walked back to his teammates, making sure he wouldn't wake them up by any means necessary. They rest was well deserved and needed if he was being honest with himself.
Gently draping the covers over the both of them, he halted in his movements, when Ascii began to shift. Holding his breath, he watched her pull the Sergeants arm closer to herself to ease even further into him. When he was certain, the coast was clear, he finished his handiwork and admired it from afar. He suddenly stopped short when he felt something angular under his foot. Looking down, he quickly took a step back when he realized he had been standing on a small notebook. Picking it up, he turned it in his hands and inspected the inked paper.
- the bullet hit him square in the chest. My arm shot out towards him, as I saw him fall liveless lifelessly to the ground, a scream errupting from the depths of my throat. I had seen men fall before, but it never made the experience less frightening, less (hurting, damaging) upsetting. I ran towards him as quickly When I skidded to a stop beside him, my mind was already in shambles, but I had to keep it together, had to keep up the good façade of a soldier. I did what every one of us was trained to do; pull a comrade to safety and go on from there. But Ghost Simon was heavy, heavier than I had anticipated (Yet again, I wasn't strong enough…). I panicked when I could not move him on my own; I pulled, and I pulled, and I nearly lost it there. I turned desperate, opting to shield him instead with my own body if it meant keeping him alive if he still was alive. But I didn't have to, as he had come back to his senses and helped me instead. I dragged him to the small hut and helped him lean against the wall. When I slammed his body against the rotten wall of the hut (I'm sorry if it hurt…), I found my breath coming short as I stared into his brown eyes, surrounded by long light lashes (they were wonderfully lusc- lushius luscious). Did he catch the anxiety that rolled off of me in waves? The trembling of my fingers as I checked his vest for any blood, finding the bullet lodged in it instead? I felt relief flood my strained system when I realized he was alright, when I grasped, I would not need to burry a teammate friend. I wanted to embrace him. Wanted to hold him close (would he have let me hug him?). I feared I'd finally break, crumble like a house of cards. But as his eyes held mine, I felt the pieces in me being glued back together. Simon "Ghost" Riley was in th-
He did not mean to read it; his eyes were simply too fast for his own good. Slamming the book shut, he stared at the words engraved into the leather cover, running his fingers over it.
War. War never changes.
He closed his eyes and exhaled a strained breath. Placing the diary on the table, he slipped on his boots and walked out of the building towards the training grounds. He had to clear his head as it was full to the brim with emotions he hadn't felt in a while. Feelings, he had in fact missed for quite some time. It was not right of him to have read as much as he did, but deep down, he was glad he did. Ascii's words caused a chemical reaction in his body. For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, he felt a warm fuzzy feeling spread through him…
Some much-needed warmth... God's, I love the bunch of idiots.
Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, they make my day just that much sweeter.
