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Everything went wrong.
Everything went so wrong.
It was supposed to be a simple mission. Capture the target and bring back any information they are holding. The target’s hiding spot is located in an abandoned warehouse in a forest north of Helsinki, Finland. It had been found with the help of Laswell and her intel group. According to her, there was no way for the opposing side to be aware of the ambush.
Yet, as soon as the 141 stepped foot into that abandoned building, all hell broke loose. And the devil had no plan of stopping.
Price told them to retreat. Get outside, regroup at their makeshift base once they are safe. Radio or send a flare up for help if needed. Simple.
Soap ran, ducking behind trees for cover from the gunfire a few yards behind him, “shit-” he cursed out, pain shooting through the back of his leg.
He had been shot right below his knee.
“Fuckin’ Christ-” Soap pushed himself off the tree, running forward.
His only focus was getting in the clear, find some way to signal for help, and possibly find a way to patch up his injuries. There was a bridge just in his view. He was praying for nothing under it. There was no sound of running water, so there was a good chance.
Soap made it about 10 yards before his leg started to give out. Falling to his knees when he reached a bridge. Soap crawled, sliding down the small valley, landing at the bottom with a grunt.
He heard shuffling, turning his head to look under the bridge. There was a person in the shadows under the bridge, gun drawn, aiming right for Soap. Fear flashed over Soap’s face before the person spoke, “Johnny.”
“Ghost,” Soap let out a sigh of relief.
Ghost relaxed, placing the gun down and shuffling a bit to lay back down. Soap made his way to Ghost, sitting next to him to catch his breath, “are you alright?”
Ghost looked at him before shaking his head no. His breathing was heavy, and Soap could see dark patches below his collarbone and on his legs, “how bad?”
Ghost breathed in again, “bastards got me in the lung,” he huffed, “I think it’s collapsed,” his heavy breathing would confirm that statement, “what about you?”
“I got shot on my right side, and the back of my leg. Took all my energy just to make it here.”
“Anything vital hit?”
“Feels like it.”
Ghost hummed at his statement, knowing it wasn’t looking good for them, “is your radio working?”
“No. Something happened to it back at that building… it hasn’t worked since I ran. Yours?”
“Can’t tell. I’ve tried but I can’t get anything.”
“What about flares?”
“I would, but we would run the risk of giving away our location to the enemy as well.”
‘Shit. We’re basically stranded,’ Soap thought.
The sound of gunfire finally died down. The gunmen either retreating or went after something else.
Soap took his belt off, wrapping it around his thigh to stop some of the bleeding in his leg. He knew it would be no good in the long run, but it was better than nothing, “did you see where the others ran off too?” Soap asked, referring to Price or Gaz, or any of the other medics or people they had with them.
Ghost limply lifted up his arm to point in the southeast direction, they were facing east, “I’m not sure if their course changed if it did, but that is the direction of the base.”
Soap nodded. He was silent. The gravity of his situation finally settling in. He was stranded in the middle of a forest he wasn’t familiar with. No map or gps. No food or water. With both him and Ghost bleeding out with no medical supplies on hand.
“How far can you walk?” Soap turned to Ghost.
“Not far-” Ghost coughed, it sounded painful, “I nearly passed out getting here.”
Soap got up with a grunt and a pause, letting the pain subside. He then turned to Ghost and held out his hand. Ghost gave him a puzzled look before shaking his head ‘no’. Soap rolled his eyes and leaned down to grab Ghost’s hand, hissing in pain in the process.
Ghost fought back, tugging a bit, “Johnny stop-”
“C’mon Ghost, we can make it-”
“Johnny- Stop,” Ghost finally yelled out, wheezing slightly, “you and I both know you are in no position to walk there by yourself, let alone with me. We’d pass out before the halfway point.”
Soap stopped, lowering Ghost back down to the ground before sitting down. He blinked some, breathed in and out through his mouth, “do ya think they’ll come back?”
“Possibly… It was a day's trip back to the base by car though.”
Soap sat down next to Ghost. He knows Ghost is thinking the same thing. They are going to die here.
The small breeze felt nice on his skin, hot and sweaty from running. Soap tried to focus on the cool feeling it brought him as he tried to control his breathing. The last thing he needed was a panic attack in a situation like this. It wasn’t going to help anything.
He never thought he would die like this. Of course, signing up for the military came with the risk of dying anyways. He knew that. His mother drilled that into his head, yelling at him when he finally got accepted into the SAS. His father couldn’t look at him before he left, saying he was “throwing his life away.”
Soap swallowed, “why did you join the military to begin with Lt?”
Ghost glanced over at the man next to him. His face clearly showed fear. “9/11 was my reason. Joined maybe a year after it happened,” Ghost paused to take a breath, “you?”
“My cousin,” he let out a chuckle, “he dragged me to the SAS base when I was 14 and I’ve never wanted to do anything else since.”
“Price told me you tried to sign up when you were 16.”
“I did. Lied about my age a lot too. It never worked,” he smiled, letting out a low laugh, “you got anyone back home?”
Ghost let out a sigh. It was a dreaded question. First they ask about family, then children, then a wife or girlfriend. They would get so shocked when he would tell them no to all of the aforementioned topics. They get upset at the fact that he has no family. They would tell him that there has to be a lucky woman out there who wants a family with him. And then they’d become quiet when he would explain he wasn’t the one to date women. Shaking their head, nodding slightly, lost for words because they weren’t sure what to say. Looking offended to be in his presents as if they weren’t the ones asking random questions about Ghost’s personal life.
Sometimes they would chuckle and look away, some would try to be encouraging and ask if he’s got a lucky man, some would ask if he was sure he liked men. The third usually received a nasty look and would back off quickly.
“No.”
Simple answer for a hurt filled question.
“Me neither,” Soap responded, causing Ghost to look at him out of the corner of his eye again.
“What about your cousin?”
“He passed away two years ago,” Soap looked down, fiddling with his shoelaces, “as for parents and siblings, I stopped talking to them when he passed.”
Ghost hummed, being familiar with forms of family drama, “I’m, uh, I’m sorry-”
“It’s fine, it was more like a bandaid I never got the courage to rip off till then.”
Ghost finally looked over at Soap, “I guess you and I are more alike than I thought.”
“You don’t speak to your family either?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
Soap closed his eyes and sighed, knowing what Ghost meant. He never heard much from Ghost about his family, only that he had a brother with a family of his own. He wasn’t going to pry on the sore subject, even though part of him wanted to.
“At least you don’t have to deal with your family talking about you behind your back now,” Soap said, interrupting the silence.
“Your family does that?”
“Oh yeah, even online as well,” Soap scoffed, “sometimes an old schoolmate will send the posts to me, trying to be helpful,” Soap shook his head, looking off to the side away from Ghost, “just silly posts about how I brought shame to the family for being gay, how leaving the church was my biggest mistake, or how me leaving home was the worst thing I could have ever done,” he ended with a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry-”
‘It’s fine-”
“No it’s not,” Soap glanced over at Ghost as he spoke, “you don’t bring shame to anything. Not to me at least…” Ghost trailed off, glancing down, suddenly feeling embarrassed of his slight confession.
Soap looked over at Ghost, “thanks Lt-”
“You don’t have to call me that right now.”
“Ghost-”
“Simon.”
Soap paused, looking Simon in the eyes, “Simon… thank you,” he gave him a small smile as Ghost looked away, giving a small ‘you’re welcome’ in return.
It was weird being called ‘Simon’. No one had called Ghost ‘Simon’ in a while, and very few people have permission to use his real name, and even then they rarely used it. It made him feel human. It was a human experience after all; for someone to use your name. Like a breath of air so fresh it’s almost suffocating. You feel it burn your face as you slowly embrace the feeling of this new found sense of home over time. To trust someone. To let someone in.
Simon built his walls so sturdy that he wasn’t sure anyone would ever be able to break them down. Put on a mask to protect himself. To protect others from himself and anyone that followed. But somehow, some way, Soap made his way through. Simon wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
Simon hoped Soap could let him be just ‘Simon’ around him. Not ‘Lt.’, not ‘Ghost’. Just Simon. No mission or job required. Just the two of them at peace.
“Why do they call you ‘Ghost’?” Simon looked over at Johnny, blinking a few times before looking away, “sore subject?”
Simon nodded.
Soap nodded in return, “Simon suits you.”
“Thank you, John suits you.”
“It’s weird hearing you use my actual name and not Johnny,” Soap chuckled.
“Johnny suits you as well.”
“Yeah, it does.”
Silence fell among the pair as the sun set. Shadows of the trees blending in with the night as the air got colder, causing goosebumps to form on Soap’s arms, “man I miss the heating back at my place,” Soap commented.
“You get cold way too easily,” Simon said softly.
“I can’t help it,” Soap spoke, straining a bit.
“You can stop complaining about it,” Simon retorted with a smile, joking.
Soap scoffed, “yeah well I don’t want to hear anything from you when your flat gets hotter than hell in the middle of summer.”
Simon rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore the other man's comment about his old flat, “what is your home like Johnny?”
Soap huffed, thinking of a way to describe his place, “uh, it’s small, only one bedroom. It barely looks lived in,” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly.
Simon nodded, wanting to make a comment but too scared to say it, “sounds nicer than mine. It’s always been a mess.”
Soap let out a small laugh, “I like messy homes. Not like total disasters, but ones that look more lived in. Reminds me of simpler times I guess.”
“You like the domestic life?”
“I guess, beats running for my life…” Soap trailed off, remembering their situation, “what about you Simon? Do you like the domestic life?”
“I like to think I would. I just… never had someone to share… it with,” Simon hesitated before finishing his sentence.
Soap looked over at Simon, “You deserve someone to live the domestic life with Simon… wish I could have brought you to my place honestly. Make it feel… more lived in than it truly is,” Soap finished with a sigh, suddenly feeling anxious.
“You would want to live the domestic life with me?” Simon asked, sounding hopeful.
“Does it really sound that bad? After all we’ve been through together?”
“No… not at all,” Simon smiled behind his mask, looking over at the Scotsman.
It was a small confession that meant more than anything else to them. Only they could understand the want, the need for a regular life. To wake up in the morning with someone by your side. To make coffee for two. To spend the morning eating breakfast together before doing your regular morning routine. To adapt one's schedule around someone else to spend time with them. To need someone. To love someone.
Soap looked softly over at Simon before finally laying down with him. A strained grunt leaving him. The pain has gotten worse and the bleeding hasn’t stopped, “be honest with me Simon… we’re not making it home. Are we?”
Simon looked Soap in his eyes and saw fear. Hopelessness. Soap already knew the answer to his question. Simon could barely breathe now, and both had lost a lot of blood. Their radios still weren’t working, and as far as they know the others haven’t made any successful attempts at contacting them.
Simon didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want it to be true. Ghost knew he was going to die in the military. It was inevitable. He had many enemies. The people that knew he was still alive wanted to make sure he was dead.
But Simon didn’t want to die. Not now.
Simon let out a shaky breath before reaching over for Soap’s hand. Soap returned the gesture, giving the other man’s hand a light squeeze before letting out a shaky breath of his own and squeezing his eyes shut.
Simon tried to move to his side, to look at Soap. He groaned at the pain in his collarbone, a throbbing pain ran through his chest as he gasped for air. Soap moved to settle Simon back down on his back. Soap placed a hand on Simon’s chest, letting him catch what little breath he could.
His eyes roamed the masked man’s face before focusing on his eyes. They were dilated, barely any brown left to see. Simon looked back at Soap, his hand moving to meet Soap’s on his chest. Soap moved his hand up, Simon’s hand staying on his wrist the whole time.
Soap finally reached Simon’s mask and helmet. Looking into his eyes, Soap silently asked if Simon wanted it off and Simon nodded.
Removing the helmet and placing it to the side, Soap then moved to the mask. Running his fingers along the seam, fingers gliding slightly over the skin of Simon’s neck before delicately removing the fabric.
Simon looked up at Soap, tears forming in his eyes. Simon was scared.
Soap moved his hand back up to Simon’s face. Palm resting gently on his cheek as Simon’s hand still rested on Soap’s wrist.
Resting his forehead against Simon’s, Soap spoke, “I’m so sorry Simon,” he sniffled, tears beginning to fill his eyes.
Simon moved his hand from Soap’s wrist to his cheek, “don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault,” he spoke softly, his arm beginning to shake from holding it up for so long, “just hold me.”
Soap nodded his head, breathing out before ducking his head down to gently place his lips on Simon’s. For once he can be just Johnny. And Simon can be just Simon.
Johnny pulled back, looking into Simon’s eyes as he caught his breath, “I love you, Simon,” he said, resting his forehead against Simon’s again.
A tear fell down the side of Simon’s face, “I love you too, Johnny,” his voice was shaking.
Johnny laid his head on Simon’s chest, and closed his eyes. Simon followed soon after.
“Any sign of them?” Sergeant Garrick asked over the radio.
“Nothing yet,” Captain Price answered, “what about on your end?”
“Nothing.”
‘Wonderful’ Price thought as he walked back down to the ground floor. It had been nearly three days since they first went to the abandoned warehouse. Ghost and Soap never making it back, assuming they were captured by the enemy and kept in the building. They returned with more men and a better plan of action. The target was captured, all information was sent back to base, they only needed to find Ghost and Soap.
“Search the surrounding forest. Maybe they escaped the building during our attack,” Price commanded his group.
Nodding, the people left in search for the sergeant and lieutenant. Spirits were low and Price could hear the team mumble about how they think the two are not alive. Price didn’t want to think like that. But the longer it took to find the two, the more those thoughts plagued his mind.
Gaz came up behind Price, patting him on the shoulder, “don’t worry Captain, we’ll find ‘em,” he said before leaving the building, Price following right behind him.
Leaves crunched under his feet as Price surveyed the area. Any sign of where they could be, any sign that they were alive. That’s all they needed. That’s all Price needed.
Walking deeper into the forest, he noticed bullet holes littering different trees. He began to follow them, signaling for Gaz to follow.
At some point, the bullet holes stopped, about 10 yards from a bridge that went over a large ditch.
Gaz slid into the ditch to check under the bridge. His blood ran cold when he found his teammates. Not knowing how to react, just simply dropping his gun in shock, mouth agape. In the military, they don’t teach you how to react when finding your friends dead.
When he didn’t respond to Price’s questions on if there was anything down there, Price followed. He could tell by the smell alone that they weren’t alive. The back of his throat began to hurt as tears threatened to fall.
All they could do was stand there.
Price was the one that called for a medic to bring two body bags, his voice quivering over the radio.
They were found laying next to each other, holding each other. They looked peaceful, it’s all they ever wanted. They almost didn’t have the heart to separate them from each other.
Price slowly exited the helo, letting out a deep sigh. Looking to his left, he noticed Laswell leaning against a wall at the entrance to one of the hangers, “shit,” he mumbled.
Pushing herself up, she started walking toward Price, arms hugging herself.
Gaz got off the helo, meeting up with Price. Looking up he noticed Laswell walking their way, “shit,” he mumbled, looking back down.
Price nodded in agreement before blinking a few times and looking away. He stood straight up and sniffled, mentally preparing himself for what is about to happen.
Standing in front of the two men, Laswell started looking in the crowd of people exiting the helo, “where are they?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
Price looked up at Laswell before looking back at the floor causing Laswell to look at the two, “Kate…” Gaz said in a low tone.
Laswell’s shoulders dropped, “oh,” she said, slightly in shock.
Price stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Laswell in an embrace, “don’t blame yourself,” he sniffled, holding back tears.
Laswell returned the hug, “I’m so sorry,” she replied softly, burying her face in Price’s shoulder.
Gaz stepped forward, placing his hand on Price’s shoulder before leaning his head down on his other, “It’s not your fault.”