Work Text:
Roach didn’t need to notice his captain missing from the small group of men that returned from the failed op. He just had to notice the blood on Price’s hands. He saw it on Yuri’s too.
Not their blood. Soap’s blood, and that was all he needed to know about the mission. Makarov’s attempted assassination was a failure, and it instead cost the life of the one person he trusted the most. His leader, his friend, the one piece of the world as he knew it was gone, and he could never get it back. When Price confirmed that MacTavish really was dead, Roach didn’t break down hysterics. He didn’t cry out in grief, or curse at any of the men for failing to save his life. He didn’t wail or scream. He didn’t say anything. He was somber, and his silence was the only terrifying answer he’d give everyone that day. Roach would spend that whole evening looking at Soap’s bloodied dog tags that hung on the wall, next to a picture of him casually standing beside Price. No one could tell if he was grieving, if he was finding it hard to move on, but none of it mattered. Not to Roach anyway.
After sundown, he decided to take a walk down through the woods, on an old trail that he and Soap would trek during their free moments. It was an easy path, one that the two would frequent, especially during their recoveries from their scathing wounds obtained from Shepherd's betrayal, where they had lost everyone else that same day. But Roach walks the path alone now, armed with nothing but a pistol that carried one bullet. It wouldn’t be long until someone noticed that the handgun was missing from the armory, but it wasn’t like he needed it for long to begin with.
The end of the trail led to a small creek, illuminated by a full moon and stars, and Roach seated himself on top of a tree stump to take one last look at the sky. He found it fascinating how he spent most of his career in the most dangerous conditions, and yet each time he managed to evade death. His life had always been in the hands of others, and for the first time, he was holding it in the palm of his own. It was a life he’s lived enough of, a life he’s made peace with, and a life that he was ready to let go of. Everything felt surreal as Roach eyed the pistol in his lap, his heart racing and his palms growing sweaty. He never thought in a million years that this would be the final step in his routine, but of all the places to do it, he was almost content to do it in a moonlit forest. He took one last look at the sky, standing up to get a better look at some of the stars that flooded the night.
Would he become one with the sky, or would he see it again in another lifetime? The answers to these questions awaited Roach as he raised the gun towards his head, the tip barely touching his temple. His finger wrapped around the trigger, and taking a deep breath in-
“Roach!”
Roach froze entirely as an urgent voice pulled him back into reality, but he still kept the gun raised to his head, his shuddered breathing reminding him that he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet.
“Roach, whatever you’re about to do, don’t do it!”
The sergeant turned around, gun slightly aimed away from himself as he found himself staring back at the illumination of a flashlight. He didn’t see who was holding it at first, but he didn’t need to as he processed the voice belonging to Captain Price. To say he was shocked would be an understatement as he felt his blood freeze. This wasn’t part of the plan after all. No one was supposed to see him do this, but upon seeing Price stepping closer to him, Roach immediately regained the ability to move as he pointed the gun back at his head. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger, but his finger stayed locked in place when he saw that Price had stopped where he was, approaching him as if he was being held hostage.
“What’re you doing here, Captain?” Roach managed to ask.
“Roach…” Price began. He paused, as if he was pondering his words carefully. Roach always considered Price as a well-spoken, philosophical man, so to see him at a loss for words was almost stunning.
“Roach, put the gun down, alright?” He finally managed to say, “I just want to talk to you.”
“No,” Roach stammered out, pressing the gun closer to his head. Even he seemed to be at a loss for words, but it wasn’t like he spoke much to begin with, “No, don’t come any closer, please, sir…”
“Gary-"
“No…!” His throat began swelling up with emotion, automatically pointing the gun at Price the moment he saw him move, “I don’t wanna hurt you, but don’t…!”
“Okay…” The old man calmly said, “Okay, I’m staying right here, but listen—All I want to do right now is talk.”
Roach listened and thought it through. All Price wanted to do was talk. He could do that too, and then he’d worry about this later. But then he thought about if he lived long enough to see “later”. He could only imagine being treated and pitied like he was sick. He wasn’t a damn child. He was a man, capable of taking care of himself and making his own decisions, and right now, the only decision he wanted to make was putting an end to his grief and pain.
At least, that’s what he thought he wanted to do…
Looking at the gun in his hands, and looking back at Price, he was completely frozen as his eyes flooded with tears and indecisiveness flooded his brain. If he pulled the trigger now, he’d be making Price watch him die. He’d be making him watch as he lost another man he led.
“Fuck…” Roach quietly cursed, lowering the gun and turning away to hide his face.
He could hear the faint crunch of leaves and twigs as Price approached him slowly, explaining calmly, “Gary…? I’m gonna come closer, alright?”
Roach didn’t reply, instead fighting back a choked cry before sitting back down on the stump. He held the gun loosely from his hand, and with his free one, he held his head, partially covering his eyes as they dripped with tears. His chest tightened with grief, making it difficult to breathe or think. He didn’t think it was possible for his world to be so loud and yet so quiet.
He heard the old man kneel in front of him, quickly pulling the gun out of his hand carefully. But Roach didn’t react initially, not until he heard him dropping the magazine did he look up.
“Wait, what’re you-?!”
Price had tossed the partially-loaded mag off to the side, out of the sergeant’s reach, and before he could go after it, his hands were already on him.
“No, we’re not doing that,” Price held him firmly, but gently, “I’m not letting you hurt yourself-”
“Why did you…?” Roach choked out, panic and heartbreak settling deep in his chest. As he took a breath in, he found his hands gripping onto the fabric of Price’s fleece furiously, “Why did you come out here?!”
“Shh-”
“Why did you follow me?! Why couldn’t you let me have this?!"
Price’s hands gripped onto the sides of Roach’s face, forcing him to look at him, “Gary, you’re on the brink of an episode, and you need to breathe. Now .”
The mild firmness in his voice was almost enough to bring Roach back into reality, but he was still frozen in distress, his face soaked with hot tears that only kept pouring.
“Why…?” He wheezed out, drifting off.
“Breathe, Gary. Deep breath in.”
Roach finally found it in himself, inhaling deeply, but exhaling soon after.
“Good. I’ll do it with you this time. Deep breath in,” Price instructed, breathing in deeply.
The sergeant repeated this once more, following along with the old man. The panic was slowly melting away with every breath, but the sinking feeling of despair was following close behind. If Roach wasn’t going to die today, then what was he supposed to do until then? How was he supposed to live when everyone he stayed alive for was gone?
“Price…?” He exhaled.
“Keep breathing,” Price cooed, “You’re alright…”
Even though Roach was calmer, his desire to die remained, which had him crumbling all over again. But with his head reeling with exhaustion, he didn’t have it in himself to move. So he wept, dipping his head down close to Price’s chest, “What am I supposed to do now…?”
Roach’s grip tightened against the fleece as he leaned in, sobbing weakly, “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”
“Gary…” Price held him tighter too, but this time to comfort the man instead of restraining him.
“Why do I still have to be here when everyone else is gone?!”
Roach sobbed into his chest, and Price let him, and when the younger man didn’t say anything else, he finally spoke, “I’m still here, lad.”
“MacTavish…”
The captain gave him a light squeeze, “I’m sorry…”
Price let the sergeant cry against him for what seemed like hours, Roach moving off of the stump at some point to fall into his hold. The older man was almost cradling him. There were moments when he was on the brink of another episode, almost wailing out in agony. But soon after he’d sob some more until eventually, he stopped. He didn’t say anything else as he lay heavily against Price, a blank stare in his wet and reddened eyes.
“Here’s what you can do, Gary…” Price began quietly and sincerely, “You can do whatever you want. You can go wherever you want… But you can’t do that .”
Roach said nothing, breathing shakily.
“You can’t do that to yourself,” The captain continued, “You can’t do that to me or anyone else.”
There was almost desperation in his voice, and if Roach didn’t know any better, he sounded as if he was about to cry too.
“You hear me, lad? You can’t hurt yourself, and I can’t lose you either.”
Roach breathed in, holding onto Price to provide him some sort of comfort in his own current way.
“I’m sorry…” He croaked, sniffing once, “I’m so sorry-”
“Don’t…” Price interrupted, but not in a disrespectful way, “You’re not fighting this alone, Gary… And I as sure as hell won’t let you.”
Roach nodded against him, taking in another deep breath as exhaustion began to settle in along with a crumb of rationality. But he found it in himself to lean away and sit up a bit as he dried his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt. After composing himself enough, he stared down at the ground, “Are you gonna tell anyone about this now?”
“In a more professional setting, I would,” Price admitted tensely, “But given our circumstances, I won’t.”
Roach moved to stand up, but not before the old man took a hold of his arm, “I need to know that you won’t do this again.”
“I won’t…” The sergeant stammered out.
“You can’t, Gary. Understand? You need to live for me.”
Roach was stunned into silence, weariness drowning his throat. So he nodded, looking directly into Price’s eyes.
For him, and even for the ones he lost, he would live.