Ghost was still having memory problems.
Not to say his memory wasn't returning. According to the psychiatrists and doctors that had been frequenting his room the past week, his memory coming back in the strange, disjointed way it was, was from trauma. What trauma, Ghost didn't remember.
He could remember some of his time in the military, even some time in the One-Four-One, but not everything. The first day he could fully recognize MacTavish as his captain was a few days after he woke up, relief visibly relaxing the captain's shoulders.
The next day, he woke up screaming with MacTavish trying to calm him down. The vivid feeling of a hook piercing his side still had him scrambling to move his hospital gown to find a gnarled scar. Moving more of the hospital gown showed more scars, some older some newer, that sent him into a spiral of strange, twisted memories. He couldn't tell if he was breathing too quickly or not at all until a nurse came in to sedate him. When he woke up hours later, MacTavish and Marcus were sitting nearby, speaking in hushed tones.
"Ghost, how are you feeling?" Marcus stood up as soon as he saw Ghost staring at them.
"What happened?"
"You had a panic attack." Marcus grabbed a cup of water from Ghost's bedside, handing it over. "The nurse had to sedate you. You remember anything about that?" Ghost thought for a moment, brief flashes of pain flickering on the edge of his mind.
"Kind of…it's really a blur." He shook his head, looking up to MacTavish who hadn't moved from his spot, or looked in his direction.
"So, you don't remember calling me 'Vernon'?" MacTavish asked quietly. Ghost froze at the name, memories of his old commanding officer surfacing.
"Hey, no, easy Ghost." Marcus placed a hand on Ghost's arm, startling him. "You're going to have another panic attack." Ghost nodded once, trying not to throw up at the memories surfacing. "John, what the bloody hell are you thinking? We just said he needs time-"
"I'm sorry." MacTavish sighed out, rubbing his hand down his face. He glanced at Ghost, at least looking remorseful.
"No it's…it's fine." Ghost muttered. He gave a nod of thanks to Marcus, taking a sip of water. "Thanks, Archer. And-" He stopped as Archer looked at him with wide eyes.
"You remember my callsign?" Ghost gave a hesitant nod.
"It's still not all there…but yeah." He paused for a moment, looking out the window before looking to MacTavish. "Uh…sorry. Did I really call you…that?" MacTavish shook his head.
"It's nothing. For now, you need to focus on healing. We have a few people wanting to see you again, but if you can't remember it'll suck for them."
"They can sod off." Archer scoffed under his breath.
"You were one of them." Archer pointedly ignored him, instead reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small, hardcover notebook and pen.
"Here, Eric thought it was a good idea for you to start journaling. He told me to tell you he knows how hard it is to keep your thoughts straight, and with your….unique circumstances, you definitely will be needing it."
"I have one too, actually. When I was in hospital for a few weeks it kept me focused." MacTavish pulled out the same notebook he had before, the red elastic contrasting the black cover. "It helps, just write whatever in it." He also pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shaking the pack until two fell out. "I'll be…I'll be right back." MacTavish lifted his cigarettes as he walked out, Ghost looking down at the book.
MacTavish ended up not returning until much later in the evening, Archer sleeping in the chair in the corner with his head propped on his palm, and Ghost shakily writing down bits and pieces he could remember. When MacTavish walked in, he looked worse for wear, deep shadows under his eyes.
"Are…are you ok? You look like shite." Ghost spoke quietly, trying not to wake Archer.
"I'm fine. Just…a lot of phone calls." MacTavish reached for the stool near Ghost's bed, sinking into it and yawning.
"Have you slept at all?"
"Some."
"Not enough."
"No."
"And if the bloody arse listened to me at all he would." Archer spoke up sleepily, not moving from his spot but lazily opening one eye, glaring as MacTavish let out another yawn.
"I have too much to do Archer you kno-" MacTavish cut himself off with his third yawn in as many minutes. He dug into his pockets to pull out a lighter, flicking it on and off.
"Oi, stop that. Some of us actually like sleeping." Archer grumbled out. Ghost watched as MacTavish closed the lighter, yawned yet again, and throw the lighter in Archer's direction to hit square center of his forehead. "You bastard." Archer picked it up from his lap, not opening his eyes to hit MacTavish on the side of the head.
"Arse."
"Eyes closed, too, John." Ghost let out a small laugh at the smirk Archer had, still not opening his eyes. When MacTavish yawned for the fifth time was when Archer finally looked, almost glaring. "For fuck's sake go to sl-"
"I'm fine." MacTavish spoke sharply. "I've been getting calls from the general every time I try to sleep anyway."
"Why? I told him-"
"Like he listens to you Archer. He barely listens to me, sending out death notices to Roach's family-"
Roach.
"-and now it's a new mess I get to clean up." MacTavish finished in a huff, moving to look out the window. Ghost looked down at his scrambled notes, the words Mexico, bones, pain, and betrayal were heavily emphasized. In a corner was Roach? with an arrow connecting the name to most of the words.
"Ghost? Ya alright?" Ghost looked up to see both of them staring at him, expressions unreadable.
"Yeah, 'm fine." Ghost looked back down at his notebook, tapping it with his pen to fill the silence. It stretched uncomfortably long, Ghost starting to fidget when no one spoke up. The only other sound was MacTavish yawning for the sixth time, and Archer sighing. "Are…is everything okay?" He eventually broke the silence, not looking up and instead capping and uncapping his pen.
"What do you remember about Roach?" Archer pointed to the notebook. "I'm not a fan of what you have written so far." Ghost looked up for a moment, slightly surprised. "If you remember anything about me, is that I'm a nosy git with spotter, recon, and marksman training. And I've known you for almost five years. I know how you are. Too easy to read without the glasses and mask anyway." Ghost looked down at his book again, trying to recall anything. A flash of a face sporting a large grin with green eyes hidden behind a mop of dark hair went through his mind before he shrugged his shoulders.
"Younger bloke, right? Dark hair…" Ghost paused for a moment. "He wore goggles? We used to spar, right?" Archer looked to MacTavish.
"I know your notebook is supposed to be private, but do you mind if John looks?" Ghost nodded, handing the book over and glancing back to Archer.
"How bad is my memory? Like what is it that I'm not remembering?" Ghost asked, trying not to read the expressions slowly forming on the captain's face.
"A lot." Archer frowned, then quickly raised his hand. "Not to say that's a bad thing! You went through…a lot…" He trailed off, both of them looking to MacTavish when he cleared his throat.
"Archer. Go check on Eric." Archer raised an eyebrow before shrugging, getting up slowly.
"I'll be by later." Ghost gave a small nod as Archer left, looking to MacTavish, whose face was oddly still.
"...you can tell me how fucked I am." Ghost spoke after several minutes, MacTavish only reading his notebook several times. "Don't think I'll go into a homicidal rage." The captain managed to tear his eyes away, one eyebrow quirked up. "Yeah, figured that would give you a reaction."
"How much do you actually remember?" MacTavish asked slowly, moving to sink into the chair Archer just vacated. Ghost gave a non-commital shrug, twisting the pen in his hand.
"Roba, my family. The rage. Almost offing myself. Revenge, going to Roba's mansion, chasing him, the bullet in the he-"
"Stop." MacTavish cut him off, sitting up ramrod straight and eyes glaring. "Reel it in, lieutenant, and hand me your pen." Ghost looked down to the pen, where the tip was buried slightly into his palm. He hardly felt it as he pulled it out, tossing it without care, where it landed on the floor and clattered under the bed. "Take a deep breath, you need to calm down."
"I am calm." Ghost spoke hollowly, giving an emotionless laugh as he watched MacTavish. "Assuming my memories are right, I joined the One-Four-One right after. Right?" A slow nod. "After that it's all fucked."
"It's about five years of memories you're still missing."
"Lovely."
"Watch the tone lieutenant."
"What tone, captain?"
"I forgot how much of an arse you were when we first met."
"Makes two of us." Ghost let out a short laugh.
"Not funny."
"I thought it was." MacTavish let out a huff, posture slipping until he slumped forward, hanging his head and running his hand over his hair. "Too fucked for you, take it?" MacTavish looked up sharply before letting out a slow breath.
"I'm having to readjust to how much of a right twat you were." He finally spoke up, hanging his head again.
"From what I remember you couldn't handle it back then either." Ghost leaned back, crossing his arms and staring at the ceiling.
"You're not helping."
"Sorry, I can't remember what we were talking about."
"Ghost-" He was cut off by a knock at the door, the nurse from before, Cindy walking in.
"Sorry for interruptin' fellas, I just need to check-what did you do?!" Cindy spotted the small stream of blood coming from Ghost's palm, moving to grab his hand.
"Stabbed myself." Ghost answered simply, letting her manhandle his hand. He barely winced at the movement, watching her look it over. "Honestly I've had worse."
"Yeah, hun, from other people. What were you thinking?" Cindy scolded him, moving to a small cabinet to pull out supplies.
"Wasn't." Cindy glared at him, smacking him on the back of his head as she sat on the side of the bed. He did at least have the decency to look offended at the hit.
"Please do. We just finished patching you up. Don't undo all of that." She scolded him, turning his hand to look it over. "Be glad this was shallow. Any further could have damaged the nerves."
"Noted." Ghost gave a nod, looking to MacTavish.
"Can you not be such a hard ass? You weren't like this the last time." Cindy frowned as she sprayed antiseptic.
"A lot changed between then and now." Cindy gave a hum as she worked. "And I went through some shite."
"I know."
"Thank you, ma'am. For patching him up." MacTavish spoke up, letting out another yawn. "And I apologize for his bull."
"Experiences change people, if what you told me when y'all came in is true, I'm not gonna say I'm upset that Si-Ghost isn't acting his sweet self like I know he is. I know he's sortin' things out in his head." Cindy glanced to MacTavish before looking back up at Ghost. She gave him a small, reassuring smile before standing up, grabbing her clipboard and taking down some quick notes. "But hopefully you're recovered enough, I have it on authority that there's someone in a room further down ready to see you." Ghost raised an eyebrow in confusion as she walked out, turning to give him another smile before closing the door behind her. Ghost looked down at the bandage on his hand, feeling slightly remorseful as MacTavish let out another yawn, flicking his lighter on and off.
"'Tavish?" Ghost finally spoke up, still not looking up.
"Ghost."
"Mind backtracking for me? Tell me what I'm missing out on here?" Ghost could see by the way MacTavish's shoulders tensed that the ask he had was not an easy one to answer.
"You sure?" Ghost gave a nod.
"I'm already having nightmares. I need context." MacTavish let out a slow breath, looking down at the notebook Ghost had given him before.
"So. Mexico."
Heyyyyy guyyys
It's been a while, huh? I mean, it's only been...oh. A year and three months? Yeeeeeshhhhh. My bad. Since that last update I...opened a new store, got promoted, became one of three managers of a 24 hr restaurant, suffered heavily through football season, wanted to die, got covid, worked over 50 hours a week, wanted to die, started working almost 60 hours a week, found out my mom had cancer but only after her surgery, wanted to die, and yeah. Not in order, really, but it was to the point where all I did was eat, sleep, and go to work. I didn't have a social life and just no energy for anything. I had a week's pto to take so I took it. And since I've relaxed after two days days three and four were spent with the husband and going out to parks and taking pics of the not-so-vibrant greens. And I got like, two more days of pto after this update so I want to pad with at least three more chapters before I post again. Which is close I have two pretty much done.
Sorry, it's a mini-rant of what's going on but I THINK final chap count of this story is somewhere around 38-40. I have a plan. Stick with me the journey's getting close to the end
(Also-why did they do my boy Roach dirty by not bringing him into the fold in MWII? I like my silent boi i needed character development about him dammit. But I did like what they did with Ghost. Just...ugh that cutscene leading into the level where you're going through the town and Shadow Company is hunting you down? Fffffffffffuck that level was great. Soap. Ghost. The jokes. The not-jokes from Ghost. Please. More.)