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Soap was alone and on the run, head spinning from everything that had happened in the last hour. Graves’s betrayal, getting shot, losing contact with Ghost and being hunted by the entirety of Shadow Company. It was all taking a toll on his body. Sure, he could handle the physical pain, it was something soldiers were all too familiar with. What no one talks about is the mental strain that comes with the physical pain, hiding just beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Seasoned operators such as Soap and Ghost knew how to manage it, but everyone had a breaking point. In training, the brain was compared to a dam. Every stressful event adds water until the dam inevitably bursts, releasing thousands of gallons of uncontrollable water that will destroy everything and everyone in its path. Once the pressure is released, there’s no stopping it until the dam runs dry. No one can override their own brain when it decides to revert to its most primal instincts, not even a man as strong as Ghost.
Soap uses his good arm to reach for his radio, silently thanking whatever gods are out there that it isn’t smashed and broken. He scans through the radio channels, cursing when he hears Shadows on every single one. He finally finds a channel that’s completely silent, and knows it’s his best bet. Sure, using the radio is risky, Graves could be listening, but Soap would never be able to forgive himself if he inadvertently left Ghost behind.
“This is Bravo 7-1 in the blind, how copy?”
“Ghost this is 7-1, do you copy?”
“Simon, do you copy?”
The silence stretches across several seconds, thick enough to fill Soap’s throat and choke him. The feeling moves down to his chest, encapsulating his heart and squeezing his lungs until Soap is on the verge of passing out. His stomach drops and flips, preparing to eject whatever meal Soap had consumed last. The water inside Soap’s dam gets angry, it swirls in tight circles and threatens to rise over the edge. Soap leans against a nearby wall in an attempt to ground himself. He forces his mind to focus on each individual tile. Small details, such as this, are typically enough to ground him. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work this time. No matter how many times he scans the tiles, which are now imprinted into his memory, it doesn’t make a difference.
“Soap, this is Ghost. How copy?”
It’s these six simple words that finally ground him, just moments before the swirling water would have invaded his lungs and drowned him.
Soap sucks in a deep breath, giving his body a chance to recover. The water ebbs away from the edge, still swirling and dangerous, but at a more manageable level now.
“Johnny, how copy?”
Soap shakes his legs out, restoring blood flow to all four limbs. He takes another deep breath, allowing his racing heart to finally catch a break.
“Solid.”
“Thought I lost ya. You injured?”
“Not a medic.”
“Keep your blood in, you’ll need every drop.”
Every word that comes across the radio works to lower the pressure in his dam, slowly bringing it back to normal. As Soap processes the fact that Ghost is alive, the water returns to a calm and gentle flow.
Soap snaps himself out of his daze and finally starts moving again, heading further towards the center of town.
“Where are you?” Soap breaks the silence with a question he should’ve asked already.
“There’s a church. I’m heading to it. Let’s RV there. You’ll need to improvise to survive.”
For the next two hours, Ghost’s steady voice guides Soap through the Shadow infested town. There are plenty of close calls, but Soap isn’t some rookie who’s just learning how to fight. He efficiently handles any threat that comes his way, using his bare hands until he finds a knife that Ghost left behind in the throat of a Shadow. After that, it was easy taking down another Shadow and acquiring his gun. It doesn’t take long for the duo's friendly banter to start up, with Ghost initiating it for the first time.
“What has two legs and bleeds?”
Soap has just traversed through a house with a caged dog, almost getting caught due to the mutts incessant barking.
“What?”
“Half a dog.”
“Sorry I asked.”
Even though the joke is horrible, Soap allows a smile to crowd his face. It isn’t necessarily due to the joke, but rather the person who had told the joke. Soap knows Ghost has been in similar situations before, and recalls Ghost telling him that a distracted mind is a death sentence. That explains Ghost’s constant jokes. They’re not purely for entertainment, instead they serve a double purpose: Keep Ghost entertained and keep Soap’s mind occupied.
Soap continues pushing through town, rapidly closing the distance between him and his LT. Ghost continues talking to him, alternating between horrible jokes and instructions on how to survive.
“Two goldfish are in a tank…?”
“Go on.”
“One turns to the other and says, ‘you know how to drive this thing?’”
“Little army humor.”
“Very little…” Soap groans out in response to another one of Ghost’s horrible jokes, if they could even be classified as jokes at this point.
Soap rounds a corner and instantly drops into a crouch, using a nearby car as cover from the large Shadow patrol ahead of him. He watches as Graves steps out of the shadows, dragging an older looking man behind him. With ruthlessness befitting a traitor, Graves kicks the man's legs out from under him and forces him on his knees. He holds his handgun to the man’s head, asking a question that Soap isn’t able to fully make out. The man raises his hands in surrender, begging loud enough that Soap can hear him now. Graves smirks and shakes his head slowly, pushing his lips out slightly before pulling the trigger.
“That’s what happens when you harbor fugitives!” He shouts towards a small crowd of bystanders who had watched the execution unfold.
Soap sinks to the ground, feeling the same sense of dread as earlier. The pressure in his dam rises again, the formerly calm water churning, creating a sea of waves. He pushes his palms into his eyes in a desperate attempt to block out the look on the now dead man's face. The more he tries to forget, the sharper the image gets. Soap had seen and caused plenty of death, but this is different. Watching someone he trusted mere hours ago execute an innocent civilian was definitely at the top of Soap’s “Most Brutal Things I’ve Seen” list. He can hear Ghost’s voice in the distance, calling his name, but Soap is unable to respond. He stands on slightly shaky legs and makes his way to the man's body, crouching down next to him. Soap is not a religious man by any means, but there’s something about the dead man before him that causes a prayer to escape from Soap’s lips. Soap takes one last look at the man’s face, a byproduct of a betrayal that shakes Soap to his core, before slinking back into the shadows.
“Johnny, you there?”
“Affirmative. Graves and Shadows are on a killing spree.”
The water was rapidly rising, pushing against the walls of the dam again. A strong current creates a whirlpool of dark water, splashing over the edge of the dam when it has nowhere else to go. Soap forces the water to still, using the calm tone of Ghost’s voice as a guide.
“Let’s focus on you Johnny. Why don’t blind guys skydive?”
“Tell me.”
“Scares the shit out o’ their dogs… We can do this all night.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
There’s a short moment of silence and Soap can almost hear Ghost thinking.
“Don’t say that, love. You’ll get to me soon enough. Now move your ass.”
Soap freezes for a brief second, allowing himself to consider the implications of what Ghost said. Their friendly banter is slowly diverting into something more, something dangerous, especially with the possibility of a Shadow stumbling onto their radio channel. Both men know it’s wrong and yet both men choose to ignore the feeling. Even though they constantly flirt in person, this is the first time either of them have indulged the feeling while on a mission. Johnny decides to follow Simon’s lead.
“I want a reward when I get there.”
“You’ll get one, I promise. Just get here Johnny.”
“Yes, sir.”
Even as the two openly flirt, because this was indeed flirting, Soap can feel the walls of the dam weakening. The streets are littered with the dead bodies of men, women, and children. The children affect Soap the most, especially the deceased body of a young lad around the age of Soap’s nephew. He tries his best to push the feeling away, ignore and override, but it is an insurmountable task. His mind is at its limit. The combination of dead civilians, blood loss, and worry for his team is causing the dam to crack. Water starts seeping through at a steady rate, still contained enough to avoid any real danger but strong enough to trigger an unstoppable event.
As Soap finds more and more innocent civilians, slaughtered in their own homes, the water reaches a tipping point. All it takes is one final splash of water to push the churning rapids over the edge.
“Johnny, got company in the church, and they’re not here for forgiveness. Get to the steps, I’ll be there!”
Ghost’s rushed words, filled with a concern that only Johnny can pick up on, are the final drops that cause the walls of the dam to explode into hundreds of pieces. Thousands of gallons of angry water fights past the now defunct dam walls, destroying everything in its path as promised. As much as Johnny tries to fight it and rebuild the dam, to control his fear and panic, it’s an impossible task.
“Ghost?”
“Simon?”
Ghost is silent. The sudden silence after hours of banter is unnerving. Luckily for Soap, it didn’t last long. Out of panic, not for himself but for the man he loves, he pries his way through yet another locked door and comes face to face with three Shadows, all armed with assault rifles.
“Bloody hell.” Soap grunts before slamming the door shut again, giving himself a few extra seconds to think. He checks his ammo supply, there’s only one magazine left in his handgun. The torrential waters rushing out of Soap’s dam are pushing him into recklessness, his mind clouded with thoughts of dead civilians, dead kids, dead Ghost. He grabs the knife - Ghost’s knife - and moves back towards the door. Positioning himself so he’s out of sight of any possible snipers, Soap yanks the door open, grabs the closest Shadow, and stabs the knife through his trachea. Using the dead Shadow as a human shield, Soap draws his sidearm and skillfully takes down the remaining two enemies in quick succession. He drops the body and sets off in a full sprint, eyes set on the church steps.
He gets to the steps right as Ghost bursts through the front doors, rushing over to the fence that separates the two men and launching himself over in one swift motion. For a 6’4”, 290 pound man, Ghost is extremely nimble and precise with his movements. Soap can’t help but stare in awe, mouth dropping slightly open.
“Shut your mouth and move, Sergeant!”
Ghost’s commanding voice is enough to rebuild the base of Soap’s dam, effectively clearing the haze from his head and snapping him back to reality. Soap spins around and searches for an exfil vehicle, eyes quickly landing on an old looking truck on the other side of the plaza. It seems as though Ghost can read his mind, as he’s already moving towards the vehicle. Soap trails closely behind, keeping an eye out for any remaining Shadows. The plaza is eerily quiet, all the sounds Soap had gotten used to are gone. There’s no screaming, no buzz of radios, no gunshots. The only noise detectable by Soap’s ears is the gentle splash of rain as it hits the ground.
The duo reaches the truck without encountering any resistance and Ghost moves towards the driver's seat, reaching underneath the wheel to hotwire it. Soap scans the plaza one final time, feeling both relieved and uneasy at the sudden silence that fills the air. A battlefield isn’t supposed to be this quiet. In Soap’s world, silence means death.
“Ghost, we need to move. I don’t like this. Too quiet.”
“I know, almost done here. Get in the truck.”
Soap moves to the other side of the truck, moving his hand to open the door when something catches his eye. He freezes and stares at the unmistakable glint of a sniper scope coming from the roof of a nearby building.
“Sniper! Find cover!”
His words are a warning to Ghost, who is still hunched over and manipulating the wires of the truck. Soap watches through the truck window as Ghost presses himself further down and out of sight, meaning the sniper is solely focused on Soap now. Soap tries to move, but he’s not fast enough. He watches as Ghost yells something, but his words are muffled by the sound of a gunshot and a sudden sharp pain in his stomach. Soap looks down, watching as fresh blood pools out of his body similar to how water drains from a dam. His vision blurs and his knees threaten to buckle. It takes everything Soap has left in him to open the truck door and collapse into the seat, not even bothering to put his seatbelt on or close the door. The engine stutters before it cranks to life, sounding like it might give out at any moment. Ghost floors the gas pedal, causing Soap to jerk back in his seat. The sudden acceleration slams the door shut, narrowly missing his foot.
“Fucking hell Ghost, ye almost took my foot off.”
“Shut it Johnny. Put pressure on that wound.”
Soap grunts under his breath but complies, using his good arm to hold pressure against the gushing bullet wound. He hisses in pain and catches Ghost glancing over with worry in his eyes.
“How bad?”
“I’m fine.”
Soap is not fine. Soap is far from fine. Between the bullet wound in his shoulder and the new hole in his abdomen, Soap suspects he’s lost at least forty percent of his body’s precious blood. Any more and he would surely pass out and never wake up again.
“Don’t lie to me Sergeant. How bad?”
Soap curses under his breath, of course Ghost would pick up on his lie. Then again, he’s covered in blood and looks like a corpse, so he should’ve expected it.
“It’s bad.”
Ghost glances over again, examining Soap’s body. Soap knows he looks horrible, but clings onto the hope that it looks worse than it actually is. Ghost’s eyes tell him otherwise — wide and filled with pure terror. Soap has never seen this look in Ghost’s eyes before, and it makes his chest tighten painfully. He wants to reach over and hug Simon, to hold his hand, to reassure him that everything’s going to be ok, but he can’t. Johnny’s body doesn’t have the strength necessary, he’s barely able to keep himself conscious.
“Hey, eyes on me Johnny, no sleeping right now.”
Johnny hadn’t even realized his eyes were closed, until Simon’s voice brings him back and forces them open again. The wounds on Johnny’s body are still oozing, covering the truck seat in a thick layer of blood. Simon doesn’t talk for a while, but Johnny can see his eyes glancing over every few seconds.
“Why didn’t you find cover faster?”
“Had to warn ye first.”
“You’re a bloody idiot.”
“I’m yer bloody idiot.”
“I suppose you are.”
A comfortable silence fills the truck again, with Ghost concentrating on the road ahead and Soap trying to control the seemingly never ending flow of blood, but it’s a lost cause. Even if the bleeding miraculously stops and the wounds heal, there simply isn’t enough blood left to circulate properly and keep his organs alive. His limbs had gone numb a short while ago and waves of shivers are now assaulting his body. Soap knows he’s in the final stages of blood loss, death isn’t far away now.
Soap doesn’t know when he had passed out again, but he wakes to Ghost carrying him into a large warehouse and barking out orders to someone Soap can’t see.
“Grab the med kit, we need to start a transfusion before he bleeds out.”
“Sí, I got it!”
It’s Rudy, which means they must be at one of Alejandro’s safehouses. He watches as Rudy digs through a cabinet and pulls out a large tub of medical supplies. Ghost carries Soap over to a cleared off wooden table and gently lays him down, finally noticing that Soap is awake.
“I gave you a direct order Sergeant. Follow it this time. No going to sleep.”
All Soap can manage is a weak nod, his consciousness already threatening to slip away again. Soap’s vision blurs, getting spotty around the edges, and it takes all his energy to keep his eyes on Ghost. Soap hisses as Rudy applies pressure to the wound on his abdomen. His shirt is cut open, Ghost must’ve done that for better access to his wounds. Even with Rudy putting his full body weight on Soap’s wounds, the blood continues to stream out. Soap shifts his gaze back to Ghost as he sets up the transfusion kit.
“Rudy, do we have any blood here?”
“Negative.”
“We’re compatible. I’ll just use my own.”
Ghost seems worried, but Soap doesn’t have the strength to question him. Ghost preps a needle, wraps a tourniquet around his bicep, and starts looking for a vein on his own arm. He finds one and plunges the needle in, digging around and checking for blood flow every few seconds. When he doesn’t get any he pulls the needle out and throws it to the side, immediately preparing another one.
“Hang in there Johnny. My veins tend to collapse but I’ll get it.”
Ghost uses three more needles, each attempt ending the same as the first one had. Soap can sense the frustration coming from the bigger man and notices a slight tremor in his hands. Ghost glances over at Rudy, who looks terrified and pale.
“I’m not compatible with him, hermano. It’s gotta be you.”
“Shit, Soap hang on. Let me try again.”
A feeling of impending doom rises in Soap’s chest, and he knows this is the end. Even if Ghost manages to catch a vein this time, it’ll be too little, too late. As Ghost moves to insert the needle for the fifth time, Soap musters the strength to grab his arm.
“No Johnny, I’m not stopping.”
Soap tightens his grip ever so slightly and watches Ghost’s eyes change as the severity of the situation really dawns on him. He places the needle down and leans on the table, tightly grabbing Soap’s hand with his own. Ghost glances at Rudy again and he seems to understand, moving towards the door immediately.
“I’ll be right outside.”
Ghost focuses back on Soap, not breaking eye contact for a single second as he rips his mask off. With his free hand, Ghost caresses Soap’s cheek and a single tear slides down his face.
“It’s ok, Simon.”
Soap knew this day would come. He always knew that someday his reckless attitude and addiction to danger would be the death of him, but never did he expect to find love first. Before he met Simon, his only vision for the future was a heroic death on the battlefield. As their relationship blossomed, that future was replaced with a much more domestic one. Simon and Johnny, married and living together in the mountains, their military life left behind. Maybe they’d even have a dog.
Johnny can feel that future slip out of his grasp and destroy the wall of the dam yet again, allowing the now blood tainted water to escape and drown anything in its way. It would only take a few seconds for the treacherous current to pull Johnny under and suck the air out of his lungs. Johnny uses his final breath to make one last promise to Simon.
“I love you, Simon Riley. I’ll always be with ye.”
Johnny can feel Simon shake his body, but his eyes have already slipped shut for the final time. As the water slowly fills Johnny’s lungs, his fears and worries are replaced with a sudden calmness. A feeling that can only signify one thing: the end of a life.
“Johnny? Johnny!”
Johnny’s body goes limp in Simon’s arms, still warm but void of any life.
“I love you too Johnny.”
----------
“Johnny? Love? Wake up, you’re ok. You’re here, you’re safe. I got ya.”
Johnny shoots up into a sitting position, instantly being pulled into a tight embrace by Simon. He can feel his sweat soaking through his shirt but it doesn’t seem to bother Simon, who pulls him in tighter.
“It was just a nightmare. You’re here. Alive. And I’m alive.”
Hearing Simon’s calm and reassuring voice in his ear slowly brings Johnny’s heart rate back to normal. The pair sits in silence for a few moments as Simon rubs soft circles on Johnny’s back. Simon eventually breaks the silence.
“Las Almas again?”
“Yeah. I died.”
“It was just a dream, love. We all know you’re too fucking stubborn to die.”
As Johnny’s body relaxes and returns to normal, he internally reminds himself of where he is. He’s at home with his husband, with Simon. Las Almas was nearly two years ago. The two of them left the military a year ago, and got married six months after that. Captain Price was the officiant, and of course the rest of the 141 attended as well. Even Alejandro and Rudy flew out to celebrate with the newly wedded couple. Simon and Johnny currently live on an old farm in the Scottish countryside, far enough from civilization to grant them total silence.
Both men have nightmares - a direct result of their years spent in the military. For Simon it goes even further than that, ranging all the way back to his adolescence. He had shared the details of his past with Johnny before they got married, and since then Johnny has been there for every one of Simon’s nightmares. This isn’t the first time Johnny has dreamt about Las Almas, and just like every other time, Simon is here to comfort him until the Scotsman is fully awake.
“I want a dog.”
Simon’s eyes shift back to his, caught off guard, scanning for any hints of a joke. Johnny stares back with a serious expression on his face, hoping Simon will understand. A dog would complete Johnny’s vision for the future, finally hammering the final nail into Johnny and Simon’s domestic life.
“Okay. Let’s get a dog. But I’m naming the bloody thing.”
“Aye, LT.”
Johnny jumps out of bed and grabs his wedding band, sliding it onto his finger like he's done every day since getting married. It’s not a fancy ring, but it contains a part of both Soap and Ghost. Johnny’s ring is made from the blade of one of Ghost’s knives, and Simon’s ring is made from the bullet that nearly took Soap’s life. Price helped design both rings and reaffirmed his fatherly role to both men in the process.
“What about ‘Riley’?”
“Ye wanna name the dog after yerself?”
“It’s a good name, don’t forget who you’re talking to Johnny.”
“Fine, Riley it is.”
It only takes a few hours for the family of two to become a family of three. Finding the perfect dog turns out to be easier than expected, with Simon instantly making the decision to adopt a retired military dog.
“He needs us.”
Johnny doesn’t fight him on it, the dog needed them just as much as they needed him. It’s somewhat strange seeing the once masked killer playing tug of war with their family dog, but the sight of it fills Johnny with a sense of calm. Something about seeing Simon Riley come back to life brings deep satisfaction to Johnny and ensures that his dam will never break again. Soap and Ghost, Sergeant and LT are no more. The present and the future only contain Johnny and Simon, happily married and living a life that most soldiers will never get.
“I love you, Simon Riley.”
“(And) I love you, Johnny.”