Chapter Text
Simon Riley
Price read the name with a frown, he had known that Sheppard would be sending a replacement for Roach--the man having taken a bullet to the leg a few days ago but Price had hoped for someone a little more… Competent?
Not that the lieutenant wasn't an excellent shot and one of the most headstrong, stupidly brave men Price had ever met. But that was all he was; Sheppard’s favorite blunt instrument he dished out to make sure things went well.
He aggravated his teammates, had a sharp tongue and was, well, odd. There was a reason he hadn't been permanently assigned.
Sometimes Price worried the man didn't know he was still flesh and blood. He'd heard stories before of Ghost taking a bullet or knife to the arm or leg and how he just kept going. The mythology was that he didn't-or couldn't- feel pain and didn't bleed, which was obviously bull. But nevertheless, frightening.
The mask was disturbing enough. Depending on who you asked it ranged from the bone of an enemy to his own father, though it was always consistent that it was a real human skull.
From what Price had gathered from the heavily censored file Riley was held together with antipsychotics, duct tape and prayers.
Price agreed with Sheppard on many things but this was not one of them, the man needed real help, not a gun and orders.
Price dropped the file with a sigh, pushing the other papers together and bundled them into a pile. He glanced at the clock on his wall; briefing should start soon.
Gaz met him outside his office, eyeing him worriedly. “You won't believe who Sheppard sent” he mumbled in a hush tone,
Price waved a hand at his sergeant dismissively, starting to walk down the hall, knowing Gaz would follow. “I’m aware, you’ve only gotta deal with him this once”
There were boots squeaking on the tile behind them, Soap bounding up behind his teammates, “Deal with who?”.
Gaz side eyed him as they all ducked into the small briefing room.
A looming figure sat in the corner, he was reclined casually, legs spread slightly. Ghost turned his attention to the Captain and tracked him as he set his folders on the table at the front of the room.
Price tried to avoid his dead eyes, he had to be professional about this even if Soap and Gaz weren't going to be.
The sergeants sat on the other side of the room, two to a table that was much more suited for one. Gaz leaned over to stare down at Ghost, equal parts dispisement and disgust littering his face. Soap leaned forward to block him, jostling his shoulder as Price cleared his throat.
The projector clicked to life.
Soap shifted in his seat, curling a hand into the molle of his plate carrier. The lieutenant was definitely a... character.
Soap could feel his eyes on him now, he stares a lot. Though if you caught him he wouldn't look away and pretend he wasn't glaring like any normal person would, instead he would lock eyes with you, looking back blankly with those creepy glazed over eyes.
Gaz seemed very unhappy with his assistance, he had started spouting essentially gossip before Price shut him up with a pointed finger.
Soap didnt really have a issue with Ghost as long as he followed the brief and didnt fuck anything over too much. Sure, he'd heard and was aware of the stories and such. A lot of it was shit though, he looked like a flesh and blood person.
Soap rolled a strap in his fingers, his eyes darted up again and he cocked an eyebrow when Ghost looked down at the floor hurriedly.
“Soap, Ghost, get ready” Shouted Price.
Soap wiggled his plate carrier and stood, grasping the wall of helo, he glanced back at Ghost who was already standing closely behind him, adjusting his overload pack. “Ropes out” Soap nodded and kicked out the thick rope and leaned to wind his hands in it.
Ghost nudged him with his boot and Soap curled his legs and started his slide down the rope, Soap looked up; Ghost followed a little closer than he’d like.
Soap hit the ground and quickly got out of his way, the rest of the rope falling and coiling on the ground. Soap tugged off his outer, thicker gloves and tucked them into his vest before looking around at the surrounding forest.
“Bravo 7-1 this is Watcher actual, guard changes are in 10 mikes”
“Rog” Ghost responded before nodding at Soap
They both started through the trees, leaves crackled under their boots as they made their trek to the road.
It was only a few minutes walk before the trees started to thin, Ghost called them to a halt and signaled him down, the both of them crawling along prone to peek over the small ridge lining the dirt road.
It was empty now but the rumbling of a truck was growing louder. Ghost waved Soap out and he went crashing out the bushes as the truck rounded the corner, coming to a sliding halt in front of him.
Soap held up his hands and jogged slowly up to the truck, the driver and occupant shouted some angry Russian before raising their guns though he didn't stop or slow.
There were two pops of silenced gun fire, separated by the half second someone would need to pull back a bolt and eject a spent cartilage. The driver slumped forward onto the dash and the passenger fell over onto the door, both just as equally dead.
The bushes rustled as Ghost came jogging out, he wrapped his arms under the driver and dragged him out into the forest, Soap already doing the same with the passenger.
Soap started pulling off both his own plate carrier and the bodies’, the sergeant yanked off his fatigues, cutting his pant legs to keep from having to take off his boots. He undressed the body, pulling on the albeit little too big camos and clipped his own vest over it.
Soap pulled the man’s gator over his head, cringing as some blood smeared on it. He grabbed his gun from the ground and emerged from the bushes.
Ghost was already stepping into the still running truck-having changed-he had taken off the mask, switching to the enemies' fatigue standard gator. A wider stretch of his eyes was now visible between the fabric and the brim of his helmet.
Soap slid into the passenger seat and used his sleeve to wipe blood from the door.
He cataloged the wisp of dirty blonde hair that had come untucked against the other man's forehead. There was still eye black smudged over the bridge of his nose and over his eyelids; creating an extreme contrast between his blonde eyelashes.
“Dinnae know you were a blonde LT” Soap grinned.
Ghost glanced over at him, brow furrowed in what Soap could guess was either annoyance or confusion. He didn't respond, just thumbed his radio as they continued down the road.
“Watcher actual, we have secured enemy transport, ETA 3 mikes”
“ Negative Bravo 7-1, hang back, I say again; do not arrive early ”
Ghost tilted his head and huffed, pulling the truck over with a jerk. “Wilco”
They sat in silence, Ghost intently watching his watch, Soap looked around, kicking his feet against the seat.
Ghost shifted back, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt irritably. “These are too bloody small” He mumbled, Soap pulled on the thigh of his pants; the excess fabric abundant. “Trade?”
“Absolutely not” Ghost check his watch again, his coms clicking
“Why?--” Soap started though Ghost quickly cut him off “--Watcher Actual we are en route, ETA 3 mikes”
“ Affirm Bravo 7-1 ”
Ghost pulled the truck back onto the road, bouncing a little on a rut. Soap drew his lips together. Not very sociable this one.
The security tower came into view quickly with two men pacing outside the door. They both looked towards the truck and one hit the other in the arm, mouth moving under his gator.
Ghost left the truck running and double checked his own uniform before getting out; Soap trailing behind. The two sentries barely glanced at them though the shorter one gave Soap a nod before getting into the truck.
This might be even easier than they thought.
Ghost pulled open the door, holding it for Soap as they both entered the tower. Soap groaned at the sheer amount of stairs that confronted them, but Ghost was already starting up them at a fairly alarming pace.
Regardless, both of them were wheezing by the time they reached the top. Soap heaved open the door, the last sentry swiveling around in his chair, barking something and starting to jump to his feet.
Something whizzed past Soap’s ear; a knife landing solidly in the man’s neck, he gurgled and fell to the ground. Soap turned but was Ghost already brushing past him and slinging off his ruck.
Soap’s hand went to his helmet and he could feel a scratch in the plastic even through his gloves. Fucking prick.
Soap locked the door and sat in the swivel chair, looking over the radio set up in front of him before plucking the headset from the dead man’s head. Ghost already had his rifle mounted on the window.
“Watcher Actual this is Bravo 7-1, we are in position”
“ Copy Bravo 7-1, they are cutting through the fence now ”
Ghost glanced to the side and double took, glaring over at Soap at the desk, “Sergent get your fucking rifle” He barked.
Soap jumped a little more than he’d like but still put out a finger in a clear hold on gesture, he held the headset closer, scrabbling over the desk for the rather old looking microphone.
“Алая башня 1 для Алой башни 2 назовите двух сильнейших воинов. Прием.” A voice over the radio came; crackly and sudden.
“MacTavish--!”
“Steamin’ hell-shut up!” Soap snapped back.
Ghost flinched back, his face visibly reddened and he straightened from his position. Soap looked up, thinking for a second.
"Алая башня 2 Алой башне 1 uhhh… терпение и время? Прием" He said into the microphone timidly, pressed his lips together, waiting tensely.
"Алая башня 1. Подтверждаю. Прием" mumbled a voice over the other line, Soap practically melting into his chair, setting down the headset in victory.
Ghost cocked his head, watching Soap bounce on his feet towards his rifle, plucking it up and moving to mount it on the windowsill.
“Your Russian is awful” Ghost quipped, settling back into his sight.
“Weel maybe if weh weren't early, they would hav already checked in”
“Watch your mouth sergeant”
Soap sneered at him before settling into his own scope. He tracked up until he picked out Gaz and Price outside the chainlink; Gaz cutting through the metal with wire cutters and Price standing guard around him.
“ This is Bravo 6-2 too Bravo 7, how are we looking up there? ”
Soap went to reply before Ghost cut him off. “Bravo 6-2 you are clear”
Soap watched as Gaz tucked the wire cutters into Price’s pack, prying the square of wire out and into the grass.
Price ducked through first, head on a perpetual swivel. Soap spanned out up the road, “Bravo 6 you have two tangos coming up on your 9 o'clock”, Soap mumbled, leaning away from his scope and into his radio.
He watched as Gaz and Price tucked behind a building, dashing out of the open corridor
“ We see them Bravo 7, do you guys have shots? ”
“MacTavish get the one on the left,” Ghost mumbled, sighting the other one.
“Aye sir”
“Affirmative Bravo 6, advise you go north around the storehouse and pull their bodies in through the west entrance”
“ Copy Bravo 7, whenever your ready ”
The two men stopped in the center aisle between the two storehouses, dawdling.
“On me Sergeant”
Soap lined up his shot, dropping the man at the first shot of his superior, feeling the kick of recoil in his shoulder.
“Bravo 6 you are clear to continue”
“ Copy Bravo 7; moving ”
Soap followed Gaz and Price as they ducked around the corner, each grabbing a body to drag in, Price yanking the storehouse door closed behind them.
This was the waiting game now and Soap shifted restlessly, scanning the other buildings and paths.
Ghost was only half as much of an issue as he thought, they were briefed about the radio check ins, they were supposed to be timed so the guard would have already checked in. Regardless, it ended up alright, at least Soap hoped so.
It was only a few more seconds of mindless staring before their radios crackled again.
“ Bravo 7, how are we looking ?”
“Bravo 6-2 you are clear”
“ Copy, were heading out ”
Soap watched as Gaz and Price poked their head’s out of the door, moving down their original path of entrance.
Gaz stuttered on the path that faced the tower, he looked back and grabbed Price’s shoulder, jerking him before the two of them took off running.
“ Bravo 7 your about to get some fucking company! ”
Soap leaned away from his scope, looking straight down, watching as 5 men stacked up on the door, one holding a menacing looking battering ram, he moved back, cuffing Ghost on the shoulder.
“Bloody fucking hell!”
Ghost looked down and immediately got to his feet, hurriedly packing his rifle again. There was shouting in the stairwell and Soap jumped up to insure the door was locked. It was just thick metal in a wooden frame. They were so screwed.
Ghost was leaning out the window, they were at least 3 stories up and above packed gravel, he couldn't really be thinking about this?
Ghost shrugged off his pack, pulling a coil of rope, he folded it in half and threw it over one of the beams in the ceiling. Both of them jumped as the door took its first hit. But still Ghost pulled the loop of rope down, tucking the loose ends into it and grabbing high on the doubled up rope.
He yanked down with his body weight, looping it over the beam, Ghost threw the two tails of rope out the window, it only got them down two stories.
“You coming?”
“Mother of mary”
Soap crossed the room in a stride and a half, the door banging again, the scot sighed heavily before tucked the rope through his legs, crossing it over his shoulder and holding it behind his back with his off hand, leaning back into the tension.
He kicked off the stone and started his descent, the rope jerked as Ghost started following, choosing instead to run the rope under his arm and across his shoulder to save the slack for Soap.
Soap looked down, meeting the end of the rope, it was still 5-maybe-6 feet down. There was commotion above them and Soap head snapped up, Ghost staring down at him.
“MacTavish drop down!”
Soap looked down and back up, brain stuttering and dread pooling in his gut, there was a reason he was SAS and not RAF, hell, the monkey bars as a kid used to be too much.
Ghost’s boot connected with the back of his head and he winced hard, Soap teetered sideways, losing his grip and falling.
He landed half on his leg and half on his hip with a grunt that mixed with the whoosh of air leaving him.
He rolled onto his side with a groan, Ghost dropped next to him and bounced up immediately to slam the ground door closed.
Soap moaned and tried to sit up, nausea and heavy pins and needles skewering him right through.
Ghost grabbed both of Soap’s shoulders and pulled him up roughly, Soap blinked owlishly, his head spinning and lungs empty.
A gloved hand grabbed the side of his face, pulling it up as it started to loll, Soap furrowed his brow and shut his eyes, trying to will away the pain and coax oxygen back into him.
"C'mon, y'with me? Eyes open" the lieutenant mumbled as he pulled one of Soap's eyes open and he struggled to open the other, the Brit glanced between the two of his eyes quickly before spinning him and shoving Soap forward, already sprinting toward the hole Gaz and Price left in the fence.
“Sergeant!”
Soap coughed, the aftershock of his fall still echoing through him though he forced his feet to start moving, each strike to the ground jangling him.
“Coming!”
“ Bravo 7-1 how are you doing up there? ”
“Not-fucking-now-Price!” Soap wheezed, his side was starting to cramp and his ankle felt spongy, Ghost ducked and glanced back as bullets started hitting the gravel around him.
“Pick up the fucking pace Soap!”
Soap heaved and tried to run faster, they were only maybe a foot away from the fence and Ghost slid through first, the sharp edge pulling on his uniform, he held up the fence a little bit for Soap to slide through behind him.
Ghost again pulled Soap from his crouch and pushed him forward, giving him more momentum to flee into the woods, there was shouting around them and Soap could hear the jangle of chain link behind him though he didn't dare look back.
“MacTavish keep going south to the LZ”
“Wha?”
Ghost veered sharply right, sliding into some of the foliage and disappearing, Soap didn’t slow down, just kept running and tried his best to dodge logs and thick bushes that would snag his boots.
He strained his ears to try to pick out if someone was following him or if all the noise was from him, he couldn't help it as he started too slow, his gun was slamming hard into his back and these goddamn pants are too long.
There were the sounds of gunfire behind him, deliberate groupings of two shots at a time, not automatic; a sidearm.
Soap gripped his radio. “Bravo 6 am heading to yer LZ now”
“ Negative Bravo 7-2 we are leaving now--What happened to your evac? ”
Soap risked a look behind himself, no one was barreling through the bushes and he exhaled his relief and then desperately tried to get the air back into his lungs.
“Me an' Ghost got out through the south fence, 'am two mikes oot”
“ Copy, the both of you better hurry ”
“ This is Bravo 7-1, I’m a kilometer and a half east of the LZ ”
“ Both of you hurry up or your walking home ”
Both of them responded in a collective copy, Soap got back too running, his ankle completely throbbing now, a slight limp setting in.
The clearing was utter salvation, Ghost burst through the trees on the other side, looking much more worse for wear.
Gaz jogged over to Soap, offering him an arm so he could stumble his way to the helo.
Soap laid out on his back when they finally reached it, still struggling to regain his breath. Ghost sat back into one of the jump seats and laced his hands on top of his head so he could catch his breath a little better.
Soap could faintly feel Gaz pulling off his boot, his adrenaline was fading and the pain was becoming more prominent.
“What happened to you too?” Price questioned, looking the both of them up and down, Ghost straightened in his seat a little.
“Rappelled out the window sir”
“Fell oot th'windae” Soap corrected,
“You fell” Ghost countered, Soap sat up with a groan, point accusatoryily at Ghost.
“Ye kicked me!”
“You weren't jumping” Ghost bit back
Gaz and Price exchanged a silent look,
“Why wuid I?!”
“I’m sorry sergeant next time I’ll leave you die”
“Yer off your fucking heid if ye think 'at was eh best idea!”
Ghost pulled his hands into his lap, leaning forward more, about to open his mouth again. “Enough--both of you” Price barked quickly, cutting them both off, he shook his head and sat back into his own seat.
Soap laid back again, unbuckling and pulling off his helmet, he rubbed a hand over his face.
The rest of the ride was dead silent, Gaz helped Soap into a seat after a minute. Soap tried to roll his ankle around, the swelling was starting to set in.
This was just his luck, first Roach gets shot and then his replacement tries to kill him.
Gaz helped Soap to the infirmary once they landed, the scot hissing in a breath every time he took a step now, Gaz handed him off to the nurses in med before making his way back into the main building for debrief.
At least his and Price’s side didn't go too complete shit, they got the intel and got out cleanly-ish.
Price closed his eyes and breathed in, holding it for a second before blowing it out from his mouth slowly. He opened his mouth to take in another but there was another knock at the door and the captain finally opened it, turning his back and returning to his desk before Ghost sat, the door clicking behind him.
“Sir?”
Price stacked a manila folder upon another, pushing them to the side and folding his hands on his desk.
“General Sheppard has just informed me that you will be temporarily assisting the 141 while Soap and Roach are recovering”
“Yes sir”
“You were aware of this?”
Ghost nodded and Price dipped his head to cover an annoyed grin, old bastard .
“I voiced some concerns with you and Sergeant Garrick and I wanted your side of it”
“Sergeant Garrick’s and I’s previous altercations will not affect my performance in the field”
Price nodded, pulling his hands to his lap. “Alright, I've talked to Gaz already but if it becomes a issue again, you will be reassigned”
“I understand sir”
“I’m assuming you are already aware of our barrack situation”
“Yes sir”
“Your dismissed then”
Ghost slid his chair back, making sure the door closed quietly behind him before making an annoyed grinding noise in the back of his throat.
If it becomes an issue again someone was going to be losing his hands.
Sheppard had already told him he might be here for maybe two weeks but now with 2 injured men the entire task force is going to be grounded unless needed urgently which was even more unlikely down a sergeant and a lieutenant.
Ghost was a just-in-case now, which meant absolutely nothing to do.
At least this base wasn't half as bad as some he had been at, they had a good gym, a little outdoor track, the barracks were clean and rat-less, and the showers had full walls instead of half ones.
Sharing a room with someone would be the most annoying thing, though hopefully Lieutenant Sanderson wasn't too infuriating or bedridden.
Ghost pushed open the barrack door, 221B , he was greeted by a fairly alarming stench of wet towels, he blinked heavily and flicked on the light.
Half of the room seemed to be entirely engulfed in dirty clothes and various books, thankfully, the other half was bare, a sheetless mattress and empty wardrobe. Ghost rubbed a palm over his face, this was going to be a long few weeks.
“You’ve got a working set of legs between the two of you” Chuckled Gaz, knocking his shoulder into Soap’s where he was seated on the infirmary bed. Roach rolled his eyes, grabbing his crutch from beside him to mime hitting Gaz atop the head.
“Almost, two left legs” Roach scoffed
“Aye, dinnae need a excuse no' to dance anymore”
Gaz snorted, sitting back in his own chair, Soap swore he had been sitting here for at least half a day now.
X-rays had been taken and whisked off, ice packs cycled through, Gaz had left for a while, bringing back a styrofoam container of mess hall food that now sat on the head of the bed. Roach had already been milling around, coming to get his bandage changed and spotted the two.
Gaz reclined in his chair making a louder than necessary sigh. “I still can’t believe he did that”
“Gaz it's fine” Soap groaned
“He practically threw you out a window”
“Nea, yer being dramatic”
Gaz huffed, standing to grab the takeout container, thumbing through soggy, cold chips while beads of condensation ran down the lid. “Bastards a lunatic anyways, dunno why Price is letting him stick around”
“Eat with your mouth closed, dear lord” Whined Roach.
Gaz locked eyes with him and leaned over to press a chip into his mouth, gnashing his teeth aggressively. He just cringed back, batting Gaz’s face away.
A medic passed by the window of curtain, catching the moment and eyeing them strangely before continuing pushing a pole with bags on it.
“Sit yer asses down-this is why no one likes us around 'ere” Soap hissed, both men grudgingly sitting down.
Soap watched the bustle outside the curtain, people being pushed in wheelchairs and leaning on IV poles, it was a little depressing if he had too say.
A medic across the way pulled open a curtain, now shaking a little carton in her hand, she twisted the lid off and emptied the off white liquid into a large bag, tossing the carton while shaking another. She hung the bag, pulling the connected tubing into a little machine.
She stepped forward supposedly to the bed but quickly stepped back, hands held up uselessly before she turned and left. Soap caught the annoyed look on her face.
Someone pushed back the iv pole, getting up from the bed. Soap met the harsh brown eyes of a man as he pulled the curtain closed, there was tubing that looped over his ear and ran into his nose, black fabric pushed up above it.
Soap blinked, he didn't think Ghost was injured, much less in need of a feeding tube... Roach looked over his shoulder than back at Soap.
“What?”
“Nothing”
Soap toed at the dirt as he walked---more stumbled through the gravel, the medics gave him a stupid boot he was supposed to wear. It was more than difficult to walk in but at least not as painful.
He would be lying if he didnt at least partially blame Ghost for it, he kicked him in the head, he made him fall weird.
Soap rounded the corner of the building, ducking under the metal and concrete staircase, shadows engulfing him. He rustled in his pocket for his cigarettes, placing one between his lips before fumbling for his lighter, the wind casting the flame away every time he tried to light up.
“How's the foot?”
“Bloody fucking hell!”
Soap instinctively turned, hand going to grab the fixed blade at his hip, his lighter rolled through his fingers and he yelped as it caught his thumb on its descent to the ground.
He picked out the bright ember seemingly floating in the air, a figure shifting in the darkness.
“At ease Sergeant, didn't mean to scare you”
Soap exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dear lord, 'is why they call ye Ghost?”
“Hmh. I apologize, didnt know someone had already claimed the spot”
The ember floated around, Ghost stepped forward into the light, his mask was rolled up and Soap couldn't help but stare. He had dark blonde scruff that covered his jaw, some speckles of white were mixed in though Soap didn't think he was that old.
There was a glimmer of scars across his cheeks cutting into his lips that were hard to see in the darkness. Something ran into his nose, faint yellowy tubing taped over onto his cheek, Ghost took another drag off his cigarettes and Soap realized he was staring,
He cleared his throat. “Nae it's fine, ye were 'ere first”
Soap dipped to grab his lighter from the ground, properly lighting his cigarettes this time. He inched back, leaning against the stone wall next to Ghost, his eyes started adjusting to the shadow.
“Saw ye in med earlier, you alright?”
“Fine, just had too eat--I’m sure you’ve noticed already” Ghost gave a general flourish with his hand.
“...Forgive me if 'is is insensitive, but, isn't 'at a little dangerous? What if ye get stranded somewhere?”
“I’m capable of eating”
Soap tapped some ash off his fag, twisting it in his hand. “Then why don't you?”
“Nosy fucker arent you?...I don’t need to eat, Sheppard disagrees, this is our compromise”
Soap cocked an eyebrow, looking over. “Why don't ye need to eat?”
“I’m dead”
Soap blinked before laughing dryly. “Yeah right… Ghost ”
Ghost’s hand stuttered where it pulled his cigarette from his lips, shaking his head faintly. “No, I died July 22nd 2007, I am not alive”
Soap sucked on his teeth, furrowing his brow as he stared at the man. “But, 'at's not possible, ah mean, yer standing right here”
“I don't think you understand, I don't need food, water or rest, I don't even have a pulse”
He tucked his cigarette into his teeth and shucked up his sleeve. Ghost presented his bare wrist to Soap, Soap hesitated before taking it, prodding around his tendons to find his pulse.
It beat strongly against Soap’s fingers, his skin warm and very much alive. Soap pulled back and looked up at Ghost again, even with half his face covered Soap could still pick out a strong I-told-you-so look.
Soap forced a smile and nodded, looking away, bastards a lunatic .
“Yeah.. reight”
They fell into silence, Soap cigarettes burned too the filter and he lit another, Ghost cast his into the gravel and took a step forward.
“Hope your foot gets better”
Soap nodded his head watching him shuck down his mask and disappear into the night, the crunch of rocks under foot the only indicator that he actually left.