Chapter Text
Ghost saw red as he left the tarmac.
The helo had unloaded, bringing home an entire squad of marines largely unscathed. Though this was normally cause for celebration, congratulations thrown to the mission's commanding officer, that particular person was nowhere to be found.
When the last soldier exited Ghost barely resisted the urge to maim each one of them for answers, instead going straight to the source.
Marching down the corridors he was sure a dark shadow loomed around him, his skull mask making him look every bit the dark phantom many rumors around base painted him as.
He didn't give a single shite about any of it. Nothing mattered more than the one thought piercing through his mind.
Johnny was missing.
Anger came off him in waves as recruits and officers alike parted ways to let him pass, no one keen on inciting his ire.
Ghost didn't bother knocking, opening the door with so much force it closed again behind him once he entered the room.
Captain Price sat behind his desk, the half-gone cigar and tense line of his shoulders were telling enough for their current situation. His worry at the Captain’s state however was far overshadowed by his worry for another person, one much closer to his heart.
One he should've been there to protect. Swore to protect for as long as he lived.
Guilt curled its tendrils into his mind but he shoved it aside focusing on his resolve, his anger.
"You said it was a simple intel gather. In and out." Ghost didn't bother keeping the venom out of his tone. "You want to tell me why an entire squad of marines just returned without their Sergeant?"
"Lieutenant sit down,"
"Why didn't you fucking tell me the mission went to shite?"
"Ghost-"
"Fuck-" Ghost clenches his fists as he feels his hands begin to shake. "Fucking 'ell. Why the didn't you tell me Soap wasn't on that bird? Why the hell did they leave him behind?"
"Simon." Price's voice was firm, the use of his name bringing him out of his anger for a moment. "They were ambushed. Soap gave them cover so they could get to exfil. I already have a team gathered to go after him. Half of those marines, the ones healthy enough, volunteered to go back as well."
"I'm going."
"I figured." Price stood, matching Ghost's stare as he crossed his arms. "This is your mission, don't make me regret that. Gaz is going with you."
"I don't need a fucking babysitter."
"Don't do that." Price snapped and waited for Ghost to take a breath before continuing. "We will get him back but you need to keep a level head. Gaz is there to help and you will let him."
Ghost knew he couldn't argue with that, he could feel the nagging pull at the back of his mind. The inner monologue is already repeating his darkest thoughts like a grim song.
He's dead. You'll be too late to save him. You should have been there. Another death on your hands. It's your fault.
You killed him.
He'd be no good to Johnny if he got lost in those fears. Someone trusted and familiar to keep him in check would be beneficial. Tactically, it made sense.
Ghost nodded, acquiescing to Price’s terms. He knew Gaz would fight just about as hard for Soap as he would, the two as close to brothers as they could be.
Price released a controlled breath. Ghost assumed the Captain had been ready to be fought on the condition, and a few years ago, Ghost probably would have. But if there's anything he's learned since joining the 141, anything Johnny had taught him, it's that having the right people to cover your six can make all the difference.
"Bird leaves in an hour. Myself and a team will be on standby if you need us." Price rounded the desk to stand before Ghost, his features softening. Priced handed over a small folder, "here's everything we know. Bring him home, son."
"I will." Ghost replied, biting back the rest of the promise forming in his mind.
Even if it kills me.
Ghost turned on his heel, stalking back through the halls and to his barracks, the file heavy in his hands.
He harshly pulled the door open and slammed it shut behind him. After hastily removing his mask he took a deep breath and looked around. The room didn't feel the same without Johnny, had felt cold for the entire time Simon had been inhabiting the space alone.
“Price is sending me out,” Johnny spoke against Simon’s chest. “intel mission. Should only last a week or so.”
“Solo?” Simon couldn't keep the twinge out of his voice at the thought of Johnny in the field without him.
“Nae, got a team a’ marines going too. Good folk, Corporal Durham remember ‘im?”
“Isn’t he the one that fell on his arse during the CQB test?”
“Aye,”
“Doesn't give me much hope, Johnny.”
Johnny chuckled, “that was three years ago. He’s run quite a few missions himself since then, he’s a good soldier.”
“You trust ‘im?”
“Aye, we did some drills today. Think he’s solid.”
Simon grumbled and John shifted to meet his eyes. It was late, the pair were finally able to retire to their room after nonstop training since sunrise. Bone tired they showered and quickly fell into bed, John curled on top of Simon in a tangle of limbs.
Johnny was warm, always warm, and Simon would be lying if he said he didn't think of the man as his personal weighted blanket. He’d never slept so well before Johnny.
“Talk to me, Si.” Johnny’s voice was impossibly soft as he rested his chin on Simon's chest, soft blue eyes regarding him curiously.
Simon was a weak man, he could never deny Johnny. He sighed deeply, “I should be going with you.”
“Need to give yourself time to heal.” Johnny reached a hand up, gently massaging Simon’s aching shoulder, dislocated in the last mission by an enemy who got too close. “Dinnae worry, love.”
“I always worry about you, Johnny. If I hadn't been so bloody careless I would be going with you.”
Johnny sighed, this was an argument they have had ad nauseam. Roles reversed, different missions or injuries; they'd done this dance many times.
Simon hated the thought of anyone watching Johnny’s six that wasn’t him. Hated not having eyes on Soap in the field.
If either of them were more mentally stable, they'd be worried about their codependency.
Simon reached up to card gentle fingers through Johnny’s mohawk, smiling when the man leaned into the touch.
“Let's just sleep, aye? I'm wheels up 1600 hours tomorrow, jus’ wanna be with you until then.” Johnny rested his head back down as he spoke and Simon shifted his hand to cradle John's head against his chest.
“Alright, Johnny.”
The files were as to be expected, sparse. Soap had been sent to recover intel on human traffickers operating in Mexico, a favor for Alejandro so his Vaqueros could focus on Valeria and the cartel.
The intel they recovered would hopefully help them find the leader of this trafficking ring and stop them before they became too powerful.
Simon went over the transcripts of the team’s communications just before exfil.
[MEXICO - LOCATION CLASSIFIED 09 May 2023 - 0146H]
SGT.MacTavish: Durham get everyone to the exfil I’ll provide cover fire.
CPL.Durham: Sir what about you?
SGT.MacTavish: You have the intel aye?
CPL.Durham: Affirmative, sir but-
SGT.MacTavish: Go. That’s an order.
CPL.Durham: Yes sir.
[SGT.MacTavish’s line disconnects.]
Simon rubbed a hand over his face. His Johnny, ever selfless. Simon had half the mind to throttle his partner as soon as he found him.
Johnny’s words echoed in his mind, he’s a good soldier. That much was true, Durham followed his Sergeant's orders.
Simon wished he hadn't, though.
The intel they recovered gave them blueprints, rosters, and just enough information for Ghost to know where his next target was. Who it would be, pictures of the leader and all his most trusted men sat on the page in front of him. Ghost committed each one to memory.
There was another suspected outpost for this particular ring of bastards some kilometers north of the facility Soap’s team raided. A lone building nestled deep in the wods, secluded, and far from the nearest town.
The perfect hideout or prison.
A knock on his door brought him out of the mission plans he was forming in his mind. Glancing at his watch he realized whoever was at the door was likely there to gather him for departure. He grumbled, gathering his gear and shoving the files into a duffle bag.
Simon took one last look at the room. The shirt Johnny had left on the floor, the book he’d been reading that now sat collecting dust on the nightstand. His eyes strayed to everyone reminder of Johnny he could find before snapping back to the balaclava in his hand.
Ghost squared his shoulders, placed his mask over his face, and opened the door.
“Hey, mate.” Gaz stood leaning against the wall, fully geared up.
Ghost nodded, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Garrick.”
Gaz pushed off the wall to match Ghost’s pace as they walked toward the tarmac. The Sergeant filled the silence with whatever was on his mind, something he and Johnny would usually do together. Never a moment of silence when the pair were present. Simon wouldn't trade those moments for anything though, long gone were his days of retreating into shadows and quiet solitude.
Now though, it only served to reinforce the very important presence that they were missing.
Approaching the helicopter they were met by a nervous Corporal Durham, the man immediately straightening up as Ghost came into view.
“I am sorry sir I should’ve-” Durham slapped his mouth shut as Ghost held a hand up.
As much as Ghost wanted to find someone to blame for Johnny’s absence, he wouldn't find them here. He refuses to use someone willing to head right back out after barely being back at base for two hours as a scapegoat.
He’s a good soldier, echoed through his mind again.
“You were following orders Corporal, what happened is not your fault.”
Durham looked like he wanted to protest but bit back whatever retort he had, loosening his posture slightly and instead saying, “thank you, sir. Let’s go get him.”
Ghost nodded and pushed past, taking a seat in a far corner of the cabin, the spot to his left painfully empty.
Ghost dissociated for most of the flight, unwilling to allow his mind the chance to spiral, until the pilot began their descent. He stood, fastened his weapon and addressed the soldiers in the cabin.
"Our mission is to find Sergeant MacTavish and eliminate any of the traffickers along the way. Intel says they are holding him at our target location. Unknown how many enemy combatants are guarding the facility or where they are holding MacTavish."
Ghost stood at the end of the ramp, the red light of the cabin making the figure behind the mask look empty. He raised his voice, addressing the marines one final time, "let me simplify this for you muppets: Secure MacTavish, kill the rest."
“Keep it clean lads,” Gaz ordered as everyone fell in line behind Ghost.
They stalked silently through the woods, the weight of his gear a comfort as they got closer to their target. Closer, he hoped, to Johnny.
The smell of ash met his nose and a feeling of dread settled in his bones. One of the privates started to mumble about it, snapping his mouth shut quickly when Ghost glared at him.
As soon as the clearing came into view, Ghost's entire being froze, ice shooting through his veins at the sight that met them.
There was no building. Barely a pile of smoldering rubble to signify the structure had ever been there to begin with.
Ghost swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Search the grounds. Radio anything you find." Ghost ordered, the marines immediately split into groups and descended upon the land.
Ghost could easily recognize the destruction before him, having seen it first hand many times. The grace with which a building could be decimated by experienced hands.
Soap had done this, destroyed the building that once held him captive along with those who sought to steal his freedom. Pride swelled in Ghost’s chest at his partner’s perseverance, the destruction he’d caused by himself.
But conflicting feelings were warring in his chest, Ghost wished above all else that Soap hadn't needed to do any of this.
Ghost should've been there, doing the truly wretched tasks so Johnny wouldn't have to. Ghost had already been darkened by the world, Johnny hadn't, Ghost made sure of that.
Despite everything around them, Johnny's light always burned bright.
When they’d met, Ghost promised to do everything in his power to make sure that light keeps shining. When they finally put a label on their relationship, Simon promised to work tirelessly to make sure that Johnny’s light burned brighter; blinding in the way he lit up life around him.
The day they eloped, Simon vowed to protect Johnny no matter what. A silent promise within himself that Johnny’s life was far more precious than his own and that he'd sacrifice himself in a heartbeat to make sure Johnny continued walking this earth.
It was common knowledge Ghost was proficient in feats of violence but not many knew that Soap was just as capable of the same. That a vengeful spirit laid dormant beneath his skin, one hidden by the light the man naturally emitted. Ghost fought to ensure Soap never had to unleash that spirit for fear of losing Johnny in the process.
Simon just hoped when they found Johnny it wouldn't be too late, that the light within him hadn't been smothered, overtaken by the spirit within. He didn’t want Johnny to become like him, to become a ghost.
You wanna be better than me, Johnny.
I will be.
Good man.
Gaz stood next to him as they watched marines search, occasionally giving affirmations to their discoveries or lack thereof. Gaz’s eyes bored into the rubble, the emotions crossing the younger man's face told Ghost that he'd come to the same conclusion he himself had.
Gaz turned his head slightly toward Ghost, eyes still scanning the destruction before him. "How far behind him you think we are?"
"Rubble is still hot. I'd say a few hours."
"We're in the middle of the bloody woods, where did he go?"
“Best guess is the nearest town.”
Gaz tightened his grip on his rifle. “That's 13 kilometers away, would've taken him at least three hours on foot. God knows the condition he’s in."
“Stop.” It came out harsher than he meant but the mental image of Johnny wounded and bleeding out in the woods somewhere was quickly clawing away at the small amount of control Ghost had left.
Gaz nodded apologetically. “We should roll out, there’s nothing here anyway. He took out whatever combatants were here very efficiently.”
Ghost raised his hand toward his radio, ready to give the order when the sound of a branch breaking reached his ears. He lowered his stance and raised his weapon, noticing Gaz doing the same to his right.
They prowled toward the noise, eyes scanning for any movement. They didn't need to go far into the tree line, a man suddenly stood from the brush, hands raised frantically pleading for his life.
“Please I-”
Ghost silenced the futile begging with a single shot to the kneecap. The man crumbled to the ground, frantic pleading rapidly turning into broken cries for mercy.
There would be no mercy here.
“Where’s Soap?” Gaz growled, confusion settled on the man’s features the Sergeant elaborated, pointing his rifle into a tear-stained face to punctuate his words, “the SAS soldier you fucks took. Scottish. Where is he?”
“I-I don't know! He escaped. He did this. H-he killed everyone!”
“Good.” Ghost stepped closer, looming over the man. “Is he injured?”
The man trembled beneath the weight of Ghost’s stare. Ghost brought a boot up and pressed it down on the bullet wound he inflicted. Ghost’s shadow seemed to darken the very forest around them, a predator observing its prey. “Don't make me repeat myself.”
“You'll kill me anyway.”
“Your choice on whether it's fast or slow.” Ghost rumbled, pushing his foot down harder.
“They tortured him but he wouldn't talk so they just used him as a punching bag for a while. They were going to bring him to the next auction, our clients pay a high price for people like him.” The man yelped as Ghost stomped his boot down more harshly than before, a crunch echoed through the trees. “He must've placed the charges before they discovered he was out. I was havin' a smoke when I saw him jump out a window. He set off the explosives once he was far enough and ran into the woods.”
“What direction?”
“N-north.”
“Good boy.” Ghost raised his rifle again, shooting the man between the eyes.
“Bastard.” Gaz spit on the corpse before turning away and walking out of the woods, Ghost right behind him. “North, that’s the direction of the town.”
Ghost nodded, reaching for his radio. “RV at the northern end of the clearing. We are moving out.”
“Copy,” Durham replied.
After a hike, far too long for Ghost’s liking, they arrive at the outskirts of the town. It had begun to rain and the moisture soaking into his clothes only served to further sour his mood.
They can't launch an outright assault, they don't know if there are civilians here.
Answers about the town's inhabitants find them quickly however and they realize they won't need to do much, someone has already taken care of it.
On the surface, the town seems to be abandoned but if you know where to look, and Ghost does, there is a trail of bodies. A macabre path of breadcrumbs leads them toward a decrepit mansion in the center of town.
Ghost gives the signal for the marines to surround the building while he and Gaz prepare to push inside. There is only one door in or out and Gaz lays a hand on the doorknob, ready to open on Ghost’s signal.
It is entirely too quiet for his liking, the lack of so much as a bird call sending shivers down his spine.
They pause, ears straining to hear any movement within the building and coming up with nothing beyond the eerie silence that encompasses the town like a blanket. He shares a grim look with Gaz before giving him the signal and suddenly they're moving.
The trail of gore continued as Ghost led the way through the building.
Bodies littered this house as they checked the first floor then the second. The final room they clear is in a similar state of empty as the rest of the town. An old office with a corpse collapsed on the desk in the center of the room. The laptop in front of him had clearly been victim to a few bullets.
Dread settles firmly in Ghost’s bones as the trail for Johnny runs cold. Coming to a head with a destroyed computer and an already ransacked office.
Any intel that would've been here had been taken and Ghost wondered why.
What was Soap looking for? Did he find it? Where did it lead him?
Simon took a deep breath, resisting the urge to lash out and further destroy the room around him.
After Las Almas, Ghost insisted on teaching Soap how to disappear. How to be untraceable from enemies and allies should they seek to hurt him. Together they created a code, something only they would know to look for in case they were ever separated.
Ghost desperately searched for a clue that Soap had used it, anger boiling over when he found nothing.
It wasn't like Johnny to shut him out and Simon worried what was going through his partner's head. Nervousness added to the emotions curdling in his chest. He didn't know the mental state Soap would be in once they found him.
Judging by the hast and efficiency of the kills around him, Ghost worried Soap was already in an unpleasant head space.
"Ghost," Gaz was at his side, a small object held out in his palm, "isn't this Soap's?"
Ghost reached for it, holding it delicately in his fingertips.
It was sea glass, a piece Ghost had found during a solo mission and brought back as a gift. He had held it close during that entire assignment until he was able to hand the object off to its new owner who cherished it just the same.
Simon wasted no time when he got off the plane, making a beeline to his barrack, knowing the only person he wanted to see would be there. His mission wrapped early, no one knows he's back, not even Price.
Eagerly Simon opened his door, basking in the surprised gasp he heard as he entered the room.
A weight slammed into him, warmth seeping into his very soul as Johnny pressed against him. Simon wrapped his arms tightly around Johnny, cradling his head in a large palm and playing with the ends of a soft mohawk.
"Yer back early." Johnny's voice was muffled with his face pressed into Simon’s chest.
Ghost hummed, reaching one hand into his pants pocket to retrieve something he'd found for Johnny. Gently he grabbed Johnny’s hand, placing the object on his warm skin.
"What's this?" Johnny stared fondly at the object Simon laid in his palm.
Sea glass, brilliantly blue in color. Its once sharp edges effortlessly smoothed by the persistence of the ocean tides.
Battered and abused by its environment but shining nonetheless.
"Found it while I was out," Simon shrugged, eyes trained on his boots. "reminded me of you."
Johnny closed his fingers around the sea glass and moved his hand over his heart. "Ye big softie."
"Fuck off, Johnny."
"Ye like me, Si?"
Ghost groaned and tried to peel himself away to no avail.
Johnny smiled up at him, the crinkles next to his eyes deepening as his grin seemed to almost split his face in two.
It was Simon’s favorite sight.
"Embarrassing, Ghost. Are ye in love with me?"
"Obviously you bloody idiot."
Soap giggled, "love you too, Si."
The sea glass seemed to mock him now as he stared at.
He had grabbed it because it reminded him of Johnny's eyes, the color an almost exact replica of his favorite shade of blue. Now the hue seems more dull than it used to be, no longer bringing the same warmth with Johnny so lost to him.
Johnny always kept it in a pocket of his plate carrier, nestled over his heart. It was always the final piece when he geared up, Simon knew the routine well, Johnny always insisted Simon place the glass into the pocket for him.
You ken it brings more luck when you do it, he'd say and Simon would smile fondly behind the mask.
"He was here." Ghost already assumed that, recognized the certain style of takedowns around them, albeit more brutal than normal, but this solidified it.
"We must've just missed him," Gaz kneeled next to what was left of a man. "bodies are still warm."
Their comms cracked to life suddenly, Durham offering an update. "Lieutenant, the town is clear, sir. Someone cleaned each structure already."
Ghost and Gaz shared a look.
"Head back to exfil. We're RTB." Ghost ordered.
Johnny wasn't here, no one was.
"Yes, sir."
Ghost carefully secured the sea glass within his vest. "Let's move, Garrick."
"We'll find him, Ghost." Gaz spoke softly. "We know he's still kicking at least."
For now, Ghost's mind supplies and he quickly shoves the thought away. Instead trying to lean on the positive point Gaz made.
Johnny is still well enough to fight. They just had to get to him before that changed.