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Soap’s lungs were filling with water again, or maybe it was blood this time, or something completely new. He couldn’t tell. It was pitch black and he was drowning. He was going to wake up on those goddamn cobblestones again, facedown and aching. Again and again and again. He could cry if he wasn’t surrounded by liquid, his eyes stung with it.
A pair of hands were gripping his shoulders and he struggled under them, but they were persistent and he was being held under. He didn’t have a weapon and he found that even if he had his whole body was moving far too sluggishly to do anything. He could just barely make out a voice calling his name, like it was filtering through leagues of water, but he would recognize it anywhere, it was Ghost. Simon was calling his name.
His eyes flew open and he gulped in a breath. He wasn’t face down or in the rain. He was on his back, on a mattress, staring up at an unfamiliar dimly lit ceiling, his chest heaving. Simon was next to him wearing nothing but a black tee and plaid pajama pants, looking down at him with concern pinching his brow.
Soap sits up quickly, rolling so that he is sat at the edge of the bed as he hacks and coughs as if the drowning had been real instead of imaginary this time. He runs his hands over his face and into his hair, pulling on the messy bedhead just a bit in frustration.
“Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake ye.”
Simon’s warm hands came to rest on Soap’s as he untangles them from his hair and brings them back down to his lap, coming to sit on the edge of the bed with Soap.
“Johnny…”
“No, we’re both exhausted. We literally got off a plane two hours ago. Ye need yer sleep and I didn’t mean ta wake ye.”
Simon tugs on his hands slightly, asking nonverbally for Soap to look at him. It only makes Soap feel guilty as he does. Exhaustion is written into Simon’s set of his shoulders and the bags under his eyes, but his expression is soft.
“We’re on leave, Johnny. Forced leave,” his nose wrinkles slightly as he says it and Soap can’t help but smile, there was that touch of Ghost. “We have all the time in the world to catch up on sleep, but you can’t do that if you’re having nightmares.”
“It was just a bad dream. I’ll go sleep on the couch and we can talk about it in the mornin’.”
“Absolutely not,” Simon says, tightening his grip on Soap’s hands just slightly. “What was it? Maybe talking it through will help.”
Soap doesn’t answer right away and Simon leans in, looking concerned.
“Was it a time loop thing?”
“I said we would talk about all of it in the morning, after you actually get some sleep.”
“We can sleep in the morning, but I don’t want to wait on something that’s bothering you.”
Soap sighs and tips his head back. “Yer so stubborn.”
“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t so stubborn yourself. What was it?”
“Drowning.”
“You drowned?” Simon asks and his brow pinches with a look that is equally concerned for Soap and pissed at whatever entity caused the drowning.
Soap can’t help but smile bitter-sweetly. “A couple times actually, if you count blood filling your lungs as drowning. I did do the classic head-held-underwater drown once though, not pleasant, I dinnae recommend it.”
Simon takes a steadying breath, his facial expression shifting a couple times. Soap is still getting used to seeing the full breadth of his face after only ever having his eyes and a hint of his brows available. Even in the dim light, it amazes Soap how expressive Simon seems to him.
“You want to say something,” Soap finally states, giving voice to the silent struggle happening in front of him.
“I want to ask you for a name. But you will tell me it doesn’t matter.”
“Actually, I’ll tell you I don’t have one… and it doesn’t matter. That doesn’t exist anymore.”
“But it does,” Simon insists. “It does exist because you remember it and it hurt you. Whoever it was thought it was a good enough idea to do once so he would do it again, you just didn’t give him the chance to this time.”
“That’s dangerous territory and you know it, Si,” Soap reminds him softly.
Simon gives him a slightly pinched expression that reminds him of a child not willing to admit they’re wrong, it looks almost comical on such a big man.
“Tell me about the loops,” Simon opts to say instead of an actual response.
“I told you, in the mornin’ after we have rested.”
“I won’t rest until you tell me,” Simon insists.
“Och, ye over-grown toddler. What do ye think knowing will change?”
“You promised you would tell me.”
“And I will… over tattie scones and yer stupid English tea,” Soap knows he’s putting it off. He also knows that he is currently losing the stubbornness battle between the two.
“Tell me now, then we can sleep in and then discuss who I do get to kill over potato scones and my amazing English tea.”
Soap groans and stands, navigating his way out of the bedroom and through the unfamiliar apartment.
“Where are you going?” Simon asks, following shortly behind him like a faithful shadow.
Soap flicks the lights on and puts the kettle on to boil. “I’m making tea, if you insist on talking about it now we might as well do the whole nine yards. Shame we don’t have any scones though.”
“I picked up some frozen ones at the store,” Simon says, gesturing towards the freezer.
“Sick bastard,” Soap complains with a smile.
Simon takes over the tea with the insistence that Soap will do it wrong. Soap insists that it tastes like shit either way. Soap pulls out a package of muffins to eat with the insistence that frozen scones are a travesty. Simon insists that they’re just potato, flour, and butter either way.
“And egg, salt, and baking powder.”
“My bad, that changes everything,” Simon responds.
“You say that sarcastically, but make something without salt or baking powder and it will change everything.”
“I don’t bake.”
“Yeah, I figured that one out about the same time ye told me you bought frozen scones.”
“You didn’t strike me as someone who bakes either,” Simon muses as he pours out their cups.
“I’m not really, but I was raised by a proud Scottish woman. I put in my time in the kitchen.”
“Aw, mummy’s little helper,” he says with a smile as he comes to sit across from Soap at the tiny little table that makes up their breakfast nook.
“Do you ken how unbearably British you are sometimes?” Soap asks conversationally as he picks up his cup and sips at the tea. “It tastes the same as when I make it.”
“I can assure you it does not.”
“Fine then, what is it you want to know?”
“Start at the beginning and work your way through.”
Soap sighs. “That’ll take some time.”
“We have all of our leave if we need it.”
Soap sets his cup down and weaves his fingers together for a moment. “First loop?”
“Easiest place to start, no?”
“I suppose. First loop, I didn’t know was a loop obviously. I got cornered in the bathroom and took the Shadow doon, but fucked my shoulder to do it and he called more Shadows up. Got shot in the knee goin’ over the balcony, died in the street. Next one I insisted I had to be suffering from Deja Vu or premonitions of some sort. Died in the plaza after getting shot in the face for a mom joke. Third loop I was shot again, this time in the back, it went quick.”
Soap pauses to assess Simon. He’s gripping his cup of tea, but his face seems neutral. Soap sighs because he’s done this before and he knows it gets worse.
“Fourth was one of the worst. I fought a guy and he took yer knife off me and stabbed me multiple times in the chest before I shot him.”
“Drowning in blood,” Simon says.
“Exactly. It was slow and much worse than gettin’ shot. Hurt like a bitch and I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe or say anything really.”
“And I was on comms?”
“You always were. You never left, even when I slipped up and it was my own damn fault that I was dying.”
Simon’s face looks like he wants to argue, his scars pulling the skin of his cheek strangely as he twists his lips in dissatisfaction.
“Anyways, I was stupid loop five and got killed before I made it into the house, very quick though. Then I got shot a bunch. Back of the head, face, chest… even heart a few times I think. I collapsed once because I didn’t take the adrenaline in time… that’s my reigning champ for embarrassing deaths.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make jokes about it all like it’s just something funny. You died.”
“Yeah, but I lived,” Soap shrugs. “I went through so many loops, it gains a certain levity at some point.”
“But you have the nightmares.”
“I’ve had a couple nightmares, it’s not nearly so bad as you’re making out.”
“How many times have you slept since the loops ended?”
“A few?”
“And how many of those rests have been interrupted by nightmares?”
Soap goes quiet.
“Do you see what I mean, Johnny? I’m fine with the jokes… you know I have my own darker jokes, but I don’t want them to replace actually talking about it.”
“For an anti-social cryptid, you are weirdly good at saying stuff,” Soap says with forced lightness.
“I really am not, I just care about this.”
Soap meets his eyes. “Do you want me to continue?”
“With a tinge less levity, yes.”
“Fine. I got shot a bunch of times, they all were quick and blend together. Except for the one time I got shot by someone’s rifle they rigged at their door, that one sucked and it got me in the stomach so it took a sec and you promised to come look for me even though I didn’t want ye to. Then I finally made it all the way into the tunnels and the first time around I had a guy hold my head underwater until I drowned.”
“The nightmare?” Simon states more than asks.
Soap makes a finger gun and clicks his tongue twice before remembering that he is supposed to be practicing less levity.
“I finally made it to you and I got shot on the steps of the church. Unfortunately, all the bullet did was embed in my spine so I was down but it wasn’t fucking killing me so I…” Soap trails off, remembering in a rush where that situation had gone, but it was too late to take it back.
Simon’s shoulders tense up as he asks, “What did you do?”
“I…” Soap twists his hands together. “I asked ye ta kill me.”
Something in Simon’s expression shatters and then hardens into something Soap can’t quite figure out yet. “And I did.”
Soap’s hands go up quickly, making a reassuring gesture. “No, no, no, no. No, y-you couldn’t. It… it wasn’t fair of me to ask, you didn’t know about the loops and in your mind there was still a chance of getting me out of there, no matter how slim. I shouldn’t have asked it of you.”
“If I didn’t shoot you what happened?”
“I caught a stray.”
“Oh.”
Soap sips at his tea for a moment. “Should we take a break? We can pick it back up later.”
“No… I need to know.”
Soap looks at Simon for a moment before huffing out a sigh.
“Ok then,” he pauses. “I don’t even know if I’m telling all of this in order, it gets all garbled after so long.”
“That’s fine. Just tell me.”
“After that, I thought ‘screw it’ and I tried walking in the complete other direction, forgetting that the stim was kind of a big thing I needed. I got gunned down before I made it all that far anyways. There were a lot of loops after that, some where I really tried and some where I just gathered information, almost all of them ended with a gunshot- this isn’t levity, I just can’t differentiate them that well. The ones that were in the stomach or the legs were the worst because I died slowly and it hurt and you were always there so worried about me and I dinna ken how to explain that it would alright.”
Simon reaches across the table and takes Soap’s hand in his, just resting their fingertips together.
“That really was the worst usually, the… the dying got banal, but you were always there,” Soap feels his voice crack just slightly, “and it hurt to hear you try so hard when I knew I was dead already.”
“I’m sorry,” Simon says, his voice husky.
Soap looks up into his eyes and squeezes his hand gently.
“Don’t be. I was touched that you cared, I just hated to be a source of distress.”
“What came after all the information loops?”
Soap takes a stabilizing breath in. “I made it to you again and then you died.”
“How?”
“Jesus, Simon, does it really matter?”
“If I hadn’t died-”
“Things went wrong every loop, it isn’t your fault you died, but I had the ability to restart the loop so I did. That’s not yer fault.”
Simon stares back at him. “Still, I wanna know.”
“Ye got shot while we were in the pickup truck and yer blood got all over my face and I got pissed and tore through a group of Shadows before they put me down like a rabid animal and then I woke up and threw a tantrum about the whole thing and screamed and raged until some Shadow came and killed me again and after that, I was a bit more calm. Happy?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
Soap sips at the tea for a bit, but doesn’t remove his one hand from its contact with Simon’s, as if this would all melt away if he did.
“After that, I went after Graves and I shot him in the head before getting shot myself. It was stupid, but I felt better so I tried again. I made it all the way to you again and you got shot going for a different vehicle.”
Simon is silent and staring down at their linked hands like he wants to say he’s sorry again, but he knows Soap doesn’t want to hear it.
“I tried to convince you to leave me after that.”
Simon tenses, his hand tightening slightly on Soap’s.
“I wouldn’t,” he says like he’s hoping more than he’s sure.
“Nah, of course ye wouldn’t, you bastard. Even when I wouldn’t answer ye, you would turn around and come look for me. The Shadows would eventually get you because, even as the Ghost, there were just too many of them. I only tried twice, it hurt too much to keep hearing them report your death through the radio while I did nothing. Worse than seeing it myself really.”
Soap looks at Simon and realizes his eyes are misty. He’s not crying, but he can see the brim of dampness in his eyes. Soap reaches out and touches the side of Simon’s face gently. Simon leans into the touch a bit and if he were actually crying Soap might have brushed his tears away, but as it was Soap just kind of held his face.
“I’m sorry,” Soap says. Because what else can you say to a giant man you love and have never seen cry before?
“Why?”
“For what I did to you. I put you through hell in the loops, even when I didn’t mean to.”
Simon shakes his head. “I don’t remember any of it.”
“Still,” Soap says, but doesn’t add anything else.
They sit in silence for a moment.
Soap sighs. “I told you about the loops after that. You believed me even though it was insane and you shouldn’t have and it felt so much better to be able to talk about all of it. But it didn’t stop you from getting shot saving me. I tried to…” Soap chooses his words carefully though he knows Simon understands. “Restart the loop and you stopped me, asked me to sit with you and so I did. We kissed.”
“I can’t believe I don’t remember our first kiss,” Simon says and it brings some humor back to the conversation.
Soap smiles. “We could always recreate it… sans bleeding gunshot wound and time loop restarting, of course.”
Simon smiles appreciatively. “Of course.”
Soap decides not to recount exactly how long it took Simon to die even though he knows it like the clock is carved into his skin. “You made me promise to tell you about the loops and so I kept the promise and I told you every time. We made it all the way to Alejandro’s safe house and I thought we had really done it, but Rudy thought we were breaking in and you thought he was a Shadow or a Narco and… it didn’t go well. I, uh… embarrassing but I had a breakdown after that and sobbed like a child and then laughed like the joker until some poor Shadow came and was too freaked out to try and take me alive. When I woke up again I went for a drink.”
“A drink?”
“Yup, radioed you so ye wouldn’t do any stupid shit and went to the bar and took a bottle of tequila. Wasnae expecting you to show up, but ye did and we shared a drink and had a talk… actually pretty similar to this one, come tae think of it.”
“And?”
Soap feels himself blush like a child, he can’t help the smile that cracks over his mouth. “I kissed you and you took your mask off and we kissed some more.”
“So there’s multiple kisses and a mask removal that I don’t remember?” Simon asks and it sounds almost like a pout.
“That’s what you get for joking about halves of dogs ever loop, you’re being punished,” Soap states with false solemnity.
“You find it funny.”
“The time loops have stockholmed me into finding it funny.”
“I disagree,” Simon says. “So then what happened?”
“Ah… then we got flash-banged and shot execution style.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah… but we had kissed again and I had seen your face and called you braw, which means handsome by the way, you didn’t know before so I’m assumin’ ye still don’t. It wasn’t all bad.”
“And then?”
“And then the timeline you know,” Soap says, spreading his hands out as if saying tada.
“And that’s everything?”
“I mean that’s quite a lot. What? Unimpressed with my level of suffering?”
“No, nothin’ like that. I’m just making sure you aren’t hiding more,” Simon says with a serious look.
“Nope, full honesty L.T.”
“I’m not your L.T. when I’m wearing civvies and we were just sleeping in the same bed and full honesty is debatable, you’re smoothing over things.”
“Sorry, I don’ have transcripts.”
“Johnny, at least tell me you’ll say something if I start repeating exact sentences I’ve said before?”
“What if I like hearing them again?”
He leans forward and kisses Simon softly on the lips.
Simon pulls back slightly, just enough to speak. “I think that would make you crazy.”
“As crazy as frozen tattie scones?”
“That is not crazy, it’s just efficient.”
“Fine, as crazy as actually liking your dad-jokes?”
“Yeah, maybe that crazy,” Simon agrees before kissing him back.
The sun is rising and bathing the kitchen in that light misty grey color of pre-dawn. Soap breaks the kiss to yawn.
“Is my kissing really that boring?” Simon asks as he also yawns.
“I feel like I’ve been awake for years.”
“Then let's go to bed.”
“That’s what I was trying to do and you forced me to take you on the trauma tour,” Soap pouts.
“Sorry, I can be the tour guide next time,” Simon promises smoothly.
Soap smiles. “When you’re ready.”
They kiss again because they just can’t help it.
“Ok, we really should get to sleep,” Simon mumbles.
“Let’s watch the sunrise first,” Soap says. “We got a place with a balcony, it would be a shame to waste it.”
Simon agrees easily and grabs a throw blanket from the living room while Soap grabs their lukewarm mugs of tea before moving them outside. They end up sleeping almost the whole day after that.