Chapter Text
Everything began innocently enough, as it always did when it came to John ‘Soap’ MacTavish.
He has been a captain for a few years now, slowly approaching his 40s, leading his own unit – better known as 141. He never quite expected to live long enough to see himself become a captain, not with death following wherever he went.
Not in this lifetime, he used to joke as a sergeant, when his old cap first noticed his potential. Yet, the right opportunities came, ones he paid too much for. Maybe he was lucky, maybe he was a born leader, that he never knew.
But MacTavish was a good man. Loyal and devoted to his team, treating his soldiers like a family. A rather dangerous way of thinking, considering the risky nature of his work and the emotional bond he created with his men. Maybe it’s because he had never thought about his personal life, not in a serious way at least. Soap never had a wife or kids, his sisters were busy living their own lives. Besides, when he was still a rookie, he wasn’t really interested in finding love.
Time passed quicker than he could grasp it, though. Years flew by, leaving him with the bitter realization that he might have wasted it all. The older he got, the more he realized that he was just a fool, lying to everyone around. But could he lie to the empty feeling growing in his heart?
Regardless, Soap was always a bit of a romantic soul. He has always believed in soulmates, having to find something to hold on to. At first, the concept of true love was almost ridiculous to him, danger and all, besides – the thought of losing a soulmate was far more painful than missing on them entirely. Things changed when he met lieutenant Riley, though. They have been working together long enough to consider themselves good mates. Best mates, even. Riley was someone he could trust with his life.
MacTavish remembered meeting the man for the first time – years ago – when they were still young sergeants, inexperienced and eager for action. He first saw him in the training compound located in Credenhill, U.K., when he tried to get into the 22nd SAS regiment. MacTavish barely beat his time on the obstacle course, still coming second. Fortunately, they both made it to the same team.
He wanted to believe that this is how everything started. That this was the beginning of their adventure. But it wasn’t that.
He didn’t know how it happened.
But somewhere among hidden glances and rushed touches, late-night talks, and shared missions, he found himself falling for the man. For the Ghost. It appeared to be obvious enough, the squad caught on to it pretty quickly – reading Soap’s feelings as if they were presented in an open book. No one seemed to mind, though, providing their captain with endless advice and encouraging him to make the first move. Every time someone new joined, they would immediately see Soap’s fondness for Ghost, the huge soft spot for his favorite lieutenant Riley. Even their newest addition to the team, sergeant Gary ‘Roach’ Sanderson, tried to motivate the captain (because how many more years would have to pass in order for Soap to finally break?).
Yet, Soap never rushed, he was too intimidated to even try.
It was not an easy love, given Ghost’s past – his heart was scarred, crushed by punishing memories, and reduced to a bloody mush, with everything tightly wrapped in barbed wire. There was no place for Soap there, too. Still, he was ready to equip himself with band-aids and pliers, only to tear his way in when the right occasion came. All those what-ifs, those stares filled with unspoken longing, and coming up with excuses to just talk, it was all for nothing.
Maybe in another life, they would both just look at each other, and something would click.
***
“Don’t bug me, Roach,” he spoke firmly and chuckled at his own little joke when the sergeant passed him a note: [You HAVE to tell him, sir. Spending a few days in total isolation is a perfect opportunity to JUST DO IT]. The captain was quick to crumble the piece of paper into a ball, the threw it into the trash can. He missed, groaning in frustration, and ignored the mess he caused to his office.
Roach was passing him notes, he kept tossing them out of his desk. Soap continued working on is latest report, thankful that the kid wasn’t talkative at all. Now that he thought about it, he never heard him talk. His eyes snapped back to the sheet, it was supposed to be finished by tomorrow morning. And because Soap treated his job with grave seriousness, he didn’t intend to make anyone wait a second longer than necessary.
A paper plane flew past his head. The man sent Soap an upset look, he could tell that Roach was already sulking. MacTavish needed to finally address the situation properly and explain to the team, once and for all, that there was no way he would confess to Riley anytime soon.
“Not in this lifetime” he grumbled under his nose, clicking his pen in frustration.
He wanted his true feelings to remain hidden, never displayed for Ghost’s attention. The situation was bad enough with everyone knowing, it was a miracle that his lieutenant was so unaware of Soap’s infatuation. Though for him, it was only a matter of time before one of his men said too much, revealing his secret. Soap dreaded the day Ghost would find out because surely, it wouldn’t be a pleasant one by any means.
Their relationship was professional, but complicated enough to leave Soap with subtle whispers of hope. He was Ghost’s captain, and Ghost was his subordinate – it was morally wrong to even think about pursuing a relationship with him. MacTavish could get court-martialed or worse: rejected by the only man he has ever wanted. He was not ready to have his heart broken.
Sometimes he wished he was never promoted, that they could remain two soldiers who could hang around and do stupid things together. Things wouldn’t be so complicated, his goals would be clearer.
In times like this, Soap desperately wanted to wake up the next day and find himself on his way to meet him for the first time – he could correct every single choice he made, fixing the way he acted or spoke as if it would make a difference.
It wouldn’t. Or so he thought.
He rolled his eyes at Roach, still pestering him in his office. The sergeant was drawing something on the paper that Soap got him, probably another childish sketch of two sticky figures – Soap and Ghost – holding hands and watching an explosion together, with tiny hearts surrounding their poor resemblances. Soap recalled the words of General Shepherd, spoken not too long ago: 141. Best handpicked group of warriors on the planet.
It made him snort with a burst of soft laughter. What a funny joke.
The captain was ready to continue ignoring Roach and finishing his paperwork, but his phone suddenly rang. His attention snapped to it immediately – he picked it up and held it by his ear.
“Captain MacTavish.” Shepherd greeted. Shit. He didn’t expect him to call today, not this early anyway. Soap glanced at the calendar nervously, furrowing his eyebrows. Did he screw something up, again?
“General,” he spoke to the phone, trying to maintain a serious, respectful tone.
Off you go, he mother silently to Roach, fully knowing that he could read his words only by watching the movement of his lips. Cheeky bastard, he was getting too good at it. Just to be extra safe, he signaled to the man to leave the room, this time with his hands. Roach followed his command, closing the door behind him with a quiet slam. When he was finally gone, Soap relaxed into his chair, keeping his mind focused.
“We’re changing the plans regarding the recovery of the ACS module.” The words made him raise his eyebrow, he grabbed his pen, ready to note.
“Mhm?” he urged the man to speak.
“You and the sergeant are leaving tomorrow.” Shepherd eventually stated, slowly but surely – leaving the captain surprised.
“The sergeant?” Soap questioned, never trying to hide his surprise. Was it possible that Shepherd misspoke? As far as he knew, he was supposed to leave in a week, bringing Riley with him. Why the sudden change?
“‘Roach’ Sanderson,” the general confirmed, continuing before MacTavish could interfere in any way. “This mission is a matter of the utmost importance at this moment, and we need to get the situation handled immediately. I trust you won’t disappoint, captain.”
All of his plans for the following week had just gone to shit. But he couldn’t protest nor disobey the orders. Soap followed with a quick “yes, sir” and waited for Shepherd to end the call. When the line buzzed, he put the phone away. And to think he wanted to ask Ghost out for a beer tomorrow.
“Roach!” He shouted. Soap knew that the Sergeant was lurking outside, probably eavesdropping. The man repealed the door shyly, shoving his face through the small opening. “Pack yourself some warm pants, kid. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
Soap groaned with frustration. He needed to finish the damn report before packing. And call Nikolai to organize their transport. And inform the rest of the squad about the changes.
He covered his face with his hands. They weren’t paying him enough for all that.
***
By the evening, Riley visited him in his room. It was definitely something unforeseen, especially when the man asked Soap for tips he could later use on the shooting range. Ghost rarely asked Soap, or anyone, for additional help or advice. He was a good soldier and an even better shooter. Sometimes, MacTavish really wondered about his real intentions – Ghost knew very well that he didn’t need any of Soap’s help.
After noticing that Soap was in the middle of packing, Ghost decided to keep his captain company.
“I have no idea why the plans changed so suddenly” Soap spoke, throwing some of his clothes into a pile next to his backpack. Then, he started folding everything carefully, checking if the thermal wear didn’t have any holes in it.
Riley stayed long enough for Soap to find it confusing, but he didn’t dare to reject the company. They were sitting on Soap’s bed, the captain was packing the rest of his equipment. He was almost ready to call it a day.
“Shepherd is a confusin’ man sometimes. But I get why he decided to send Roach instead.” Riley spoke after some time. He was trying to help, coiling Soap’s climbing rope in a neat way.
“Yeah?” he asked and grabbed the rope, then set it aside. “I wish I could take you with me. I don’t know what to think about it anymore” Soap confessed, looking the other way. His words seemed too open and intimate. His face heated, not enough to leave him blushing, but threatening to do so eventually. He needed to stop before he said something embarrassing.
“Roach needs to learn how to operate in harsh conditions, and besides that, I hate cold weather.” Ghost challenged, chuckling.
“But you told me recently that you hate summer,” Soap argued, turning back to face him and raising his eyebrows.
“Affirmative, sir.”
Even with the balaclava covering his face, he could tell Riley was smiling. The wrinkles around his eyes ruined his paint, betraying his expression. Soap smiled right back, sighing:
“You’re impossible.”
He almost forgot to pack his cigars.
When he smoked, enjoying his last moments of peace, he watched Riley’s skin coated in black grease. The paint was uneven, smeared around his eyes and over the bridge of his nose, already worn off – Soap could see the glimpses of pink, flushed skin underneath. The captain was too focused on the little details, on the way Simon’s lashes turned white, almost opaque when the light hit them, and the way paint made his wrinkles even more visible.
Soap wanted to remember him like this. Happy and teasing, scratching his stubble every time he smoked, maybe to cover the scars covering the bottom part of his face. He was so busy imagining himself painting the man in his journal (or even painting over his eyelids), trying to memorize the exact shape of the furrowed eyebrows, that he failed to even notice.
Ghost was staring right back at him.
“I should go, it’s gettin’ late,” Ghost observed, standing up and making his way to the door. He nodded at Soap in a respectful manner and said: “Stay frosty, cap.”
MacTavish let out a rippling laugh at his words and punched his arm playfully. He watched as the man disappeared shortly after turning to another dark corridor.
“Yer a cheeky bastard, Simon” he muttered to himself.
I wish you wanted me back, a loose thought followed.
If he only knew.
***
Soap and Roach were stuck in Kazakhstan for more than a few hours now, freezing their asses off in the cold weather. The Tian Shan Mountains were beautiful this time of the year, Soap wished Ghost was there to enjoy the views, too. The place was truly heaven - even though it felt far from it. He couldn’t even snap a picture or draw the view in front of him because of the thick gloves.
They were deep behind enemy lines but the mountains and snow kept them well hidden. Occasionally, they saw an aircraft or two passing by – coming out or returning to the nearby base, but they weren’t spotted so far. Everything was going according to plan.
The cold snow was quickly settling everywhere, fully covering his beard and mustache. His face was unusually red and dry, and so incredibly itchy. His hands felt too numb to even hold his cigar properly – he picked the habit from his old captain, but now he was looking as if he was smoking for the very first time.
He tossed the cigar into the abyss stretching in front of him and got up.
“Break’s over, Roach. Let’s go,” he said, and Roach followed by checking his equipment and weapons. It took a while and in that time, Soap managed to get closer to the end of an icy cliff. Their only way forward. His hands touched the rocky wall, a little slippery, but it was enough to keep him balanced. He stepped sideways, facing the edge. He tried not to look down.
He did it, anyway, the fear crept up his throat.
The narrow passage led to nothing, but it didn’t matter. He spoke to Roach:
“Stay here and spot me. Wait for my go.”
He took a swing holding his ice axe and pierced it deep into the wall. He hoped his axe and climbing boots would let him climb easily. The ice seemed sturdy enough to endure his body weight.
“All right, the ice is good. Follow me,” he instructed and moved his foot. The angle was steep, almost upright, as he slowly made his way up. Stress consumed him, he was scared of Roach – he didn’t think the kid had ever climbed something this high without any support.
A jet flew right above him, not only scaring the shit out of him but also causing some of the heavy snow to fall directly on top of them. He lost his balance, and one of his axes fell off. Thankfully, he connected the daggers to his wrists so he wouldn’t lose them. He hoped Roach did the same. Soap tried to lift himself up and only then could he try again and move forward.
He waited for Roach to appear and he helped him with getting onto his feet. He looked around to check if there was any way forward. He noticed the easy way up on the other shelf.
They would have to jump for it.
“Good luck mate. I’ll see you on the far side.”
Soap stepped back and moved quickly to build up enough momentum to get on the other side. While he thought he could catch a breath, he was glad he didn’t.
Roach didn’t make it. He missed and slipped down, trying to get a solid grip. Life flashed through Soap’s eyes as he put his dagger to the ground. He needed to get him.
“Hold on!” He screamed, running to the edge and throwing himself off, just to catch him. “Don’t let go!”
Soap managed to catch his arm just in time. The man was heavy but somehow he threw him upwards. They were slowly making their way up, he was just behind Roach. He never expected to have to babysit him so much. Was this what others had to do on a daily basis?
He could use another smoke.
***
“Roach, check your heartbeat sensor. You should be able to see me on the scope. That blue dot is me. Any unrecognized contacts will show up as white dots,” he instructed through the comms when they neared the base.
The snow was getting heavier, turning into a full-time blizzard. Soap squinted his eyes, pissed that he couldn’t see anything further than his sergeant. He decided to use his radio from now on to be heard better.
He wished Roach could talk. In a moment like this, he really needed verbal confirmation. In the sergeant’s file, there was no information regarding why the man was mute. When Roach showed up for the first time, meeting the captain, he signed something after saluting. Back then, Soap only scoffed, taking it as a joke. But soon he realized that the man was not much of a talker. Soap has never heard his voice, apart from occasional groans and loud mumbles.
They were approaching their destination slowly, looking out for any potential patrols. He noticed guards making their way back. The captain needed them gone. He checked the perimeter for any additional hostiles and spoke:
“Roach, these muppets have no idea we’re here. Let’s take this nice and slow. You take the one on the left. On three. One… Two… Three.” They both fired a single shot. “Nicely done” he praised and earned a hum from his sergeant.
Another plane passed right above their heads. They walked by the bodies, and he stopped himself from throwing any rude remarks their way. Soon enough, they noticed two other guards.
“Same plan. On three. One… Two… Three… Nice work.”
They got closer to the metal fence. Barbed wire on top, probably electrified, cut their way inside. Now they needed to find another way in.
“The storm’s brewing up. Let’s split up. I’ll use the thermal scope and provide overwatch from this ridge. Use the cover of the storm to enter the base.”
Roach followed the fence, probably searching for a gate, but he couldn’t see him in the storm anymore.
“You’ll be a ghost in this blizzard, so the guards won’t see you until you’re very close. Keep an eye on your heartbeat sensor, good luck.”
Now, the only thing he could do was get the man through the base, unnoticed. He watched his heartbeat sensor, searching for his binoculars. They weren’t helpful at all.
***
Soap kept moving, swiping the guards outside the base. He was intensely looking for the satellite, his GPS was barely picking up the signal because of the storm. The dot started beeping, and he watched it moving closer to him. In the meantime, he tried to instruct Roach the best he could.
Soap reminded Roach to plant the explosives at the fueling station. He hoped the man got it right this time. Roach must have been somewhere on the other side of the runway.
“I’m picking up more radio traffic about the satellite. Standby.” Was all said to Roach before jumping from a low hill. He passed one gate, for some reason unguarded. He was in, now he needed to follow the GPS.
He was turning in every direction hoping to find the right one. After some time, he did.
“Got it. Sounds like the satellite’s in the far hangar. Race you there. Oscar Mike. Out”
He made his way, avoiding the guards. Soap managed to take one guard by using his axe and got to the back of the building. He was glad to see his Sergeant arrive minutes later, alive and well, as they approached the metal doors together.
“Took the scenic route, eh?” he joked, taking off his goggles. Roach didn’t answer him. “Let’s go.”
He opened the door slowly, stepping inside. It was nice to change the scenery after so much time in the blizzard. He signed at Roach to stay close. A guard stepped from the other room and didn’t notice them somehow. What a muppet. He threw himself on the man, pushing him onto some lockers, and stabbed him with his knife. To ensure he won’t scream, he aimed for his neck next. A clean slice was enough for him to drop dead with a groan.
They made it. They were in the hangar. Various parts of the satellite were scattered around the floor, but that wasn’t what interested him. He made his way to the metal housing, trying to retrieve some of the data. Soap checked inside – the ACS module wasn’t there.
“Go upstairs and look for the ACS module,” he ordered and watched as Roach climbed the metal stairs. He intended to plant more explosives, as a bitter surprise gift for the Russians. He grabbed his backpack to search for the C4 but the doors to the hangar opened.
Fuck.
“Roach,” he spoke through the comms. “I’ve been compromised!” He whispered loudly. “Keep a low profile and hold your fire.”
They didn’t know he wasn’t alone. Yet, he wasn’t sure if that would help him walk out of this situation. Not this time. At least a dozen guards were aiming right at him, ready to shoot anytime.
“This is Major Petrov!” Come out with your hands up!” the Russian man spoke through the megaphone.
He dropped his rifle to the side, following the instruction. He stepped forward, keeping his hands clear and visible.
“You have five seconds to comply!”
“Roach, go to Plan B” he spoke slowly. Fuck Roach, let’s hope you didn’t screw up the explosives this time. He knew they didn’t hear him, or, at least, didn’t understand a word he was saying.
Major Petrov started the countdown. It was time for his execution.
The time seemed to move so slowly. He never said goodbye to Riley. He didn’t get to tell Roach to run if something went wrong. So many wrong choices, his head spun with a headache. He watched the sky as he tried to remember Simon’s face. He could only see eyes without a face, squinting at him. They were cold, but also warm, inviting. He was ready to–
An explosion shook the ground, followed by a couple of smaller ones. He watched in slow motion as Roach took down the distracted soldiers. He ran to the cover, grabbed his rifle, and slid across the floor. He reloaded it, just to be sure.
The Russians were everywhere, running in the hope of getting to the cover. Soap managed to kill some of them, but the next ones were already approaching. He got to the wall, a perfect spot to shoot.
“Stay close and hug the wall! We’ll use the MiGs for cover and cross the tarmac to the southeast!” He cleared out the soldiers nearing the hangar. He ensured the area was clear before moving forward, signaling Roach to follow. He wasn’t sure if he saw him. “Roach! Follow me! Let’s go!”
They were running for their lives, taking cover behind concrete barriers. “Head for that MiG, I’ll cover you!” One of the planes exploded, and he ducked his head down to dodge the large, metal shrapnel.
Shit, I’m low on ammo, he thought after emptying one of his magazines on the soldiers, never expecting them to be dressed so thick to withstand the piercing capability of his bullets. He ran after Roach, passing him and leading the way. The explosions were following them, as they quickly made it through the airport.
“Snowmobiles! Take’em out!” He pointed, still moving forward. “To the east, Roach! Go! I’ve got you covered, Roach! Move up! Move up!”
They were already so close to the gate, but they stopped to take care of their enemies. Soap noticed a hill and without much thinking, he slid off it. When he landed, he tried to watch Roach’s back as he saw more hostiles appearing at 12 o’clock. They took cover behind one of the wooden shacks.
Roach was shooting like crazy. But so was Soap. He switched to his sidearm.
He threw one man directly off his moving snowmobile. He watched as Roach killed the other one. That was it. That was their way out.
“Roach, take that snowmobile! Let’s get the hell out of here!”
“Kilo Six-One, the primary exfil point is compromised! We’re en route to the backup LZ using enemy transport. Meet us there! Over!” He shouted through the comms, thankfully the storm was wearing off and the signal was clear. He didn’t wait long for the answer.
“Bravo Six, this is Kilo Six-One, roger that, out.”
“More tangos to the rear! Just outrun them! Go! Go! Don’t slow down! Keep moving or you’re dead!” Soap gripped the throttle, rolling it towards himself. The machine thrashed, what a piece of shit, but sped up.
They were almost there, he tried to predict the shots of the enemy’s air support while shooting blindly at the snowmobiles in front of him.
“Bravo Six, we’re at bingo fuel. What’s your status? Over.” The pilot spoke.
“Kilo Six-One, we’re taking heavy fire but we’re almost there! Standby!”
“Pin the throttle! Keep going!” he shouted to Roach. Thankfully, the man was still behind him.
They were going downhill, the speed was enormous. He hardly managed to control the snowmobile.
Watch the trees, Roach, watch the damn trees!
Fuck! The hill ends, he observed. He needed more speed. Soap tried but the vehicle worked against his will. Before he knew it, he found himself shot into the air. Roach already made it, and after a second, he made it too.
“There’s the chopper! Let’s go!”
“Bravo Six we have you on visual. Get your ass on board! We’re running on fumes here!”
Soap had to use the rear brakes to stop. The machine stilled in place inches before crashing into the chopper. His legs felt wobbly and numb from the cold but he got on board. Only then, he could enjoy some warmth.
“Okay, they got the ACS! We’re outta here!”
He was getting too old for this. The two of them just took down an entire Russian base.