Chapter Text
DAY ONE
They were wheels up soon. On the way to take out some random informant in the Siberian wastes who knew he was being hunted or else he wouldn't have moved so abruptly. Time sensitive, needing them to get rolling ASAP.
He didn't know why the sergeant was with him. It happened more often than not, they'd become a bit of a dynamic duo after Las Almas despite Ghost's aversion to letting anyone attach themselves to him. The problem wasn't Soap accompanying him, it was more along the lines of him being used to working alone.
This mission was his wheelhouse, he didn't need a charge to look after.
Soap was oblivious to his irritation. Or, he likely knew Ghost was miffed about everything and making the most of their time together. Despite his brash nature the sergeant was calculating, vicious, and a near perfect foil to himself. It made sense they were paired together, he couldn't deny they were a great team. Any mission was a risk though, and he didn't understand why they both needed to be risked.
Either way, they boarded the otherwise empty helo together and began a long day of travel.
DAY TWO
Laswell checked in, letting them know exfil was moved due to an oncoming blizzard. The area would still be clear for the mission and command wanted it done, the weather not due to hit until the end of their third day. They set out from the safehouse while it was still dark, the blustering wind and dense forest covering their tracks in the snow.
Ghost hated the cold. It was already hard for him to stay warm but now that they were in the tundra it seeped into his bones, never getting the chance to get comfortable. When Price said their next target was a Russian Ultranationalist he stupidly hoped it wouldn't involve any missions like this, slogging through no-man's-land for a bit of intel.
They set up camp in a small clearing guarded by trees. It would be another slog tomorrow, making their way to the poor sod's safehouse coordinates and waiting out the day to scope the place out. Somewhere in that time they were going to kill him and anyone inside, then the blizzard would move in and strand them for a day or two. Cut and dry, move in, move out. It was unlikely they'd be compromised during all the wind and snow, nobody would be able to get to them.
Stuck in a cabin with his sergeant wasn't the worst way to end a mission. At least it was someone he knew, someone familiar with his idiosyncrasies who knew when to push and when to leave well enough alone.
Ghost could've kept himself awake for the whole watch, but Soap was always insisting he try to sleep. It was easier to wake him and swap shifts than deal with his bitching for the rest of the day, so that's what he did. He watched the sergeant stretch, crawling out of his bedroll and making a face when he was hit with the cold. "'Nother dreich day out here."
Ghost let a small smile curl his face under the hardshell mask. It was a different one, the black balaclava too obvious of a target against the white snow. The fabric was a camo pattern matching the rest of his outfit, the skull blending into the pattern. Hand-painted, almost artistic. Soap already ribbed him for it when they deployed.
"You don't have to take a shift," he reminded him, eyes following as the sergeant grabbed his kit from where it was held out of the way of the snow.
"Yer pullin' the trigger tomorrow, it's a bit important that ye don't fall asleep on me," Soap reminded him, adjusting everything so he was as covered as possible. He sighed and tossed a look to Ghost, assuming it was one of his winning smiles under the winter gear that concealed his face. "Get some sleep, then."
He shrugged off some of his gear and guns, keeping them off the snow. It was about three hours before they needed to be moving, set to be out at midnight. Sleeping was unlikely but it did feel nice to curl up in the bag, some of the warmth still trapped in the insulation. He'd shut his eyes and maybe drift off for an hour, he'd done harder jobs on less sleep.
DAY THREE
"Lt.? We're cleared ta move."
Ghost stirred, having actually fallen asleep at some point. He blinked up at Soap, drowsiness clinging to his mind. It was a shame he slept for real, somehow it made him reluctant to get off of the hard ground and keep moving.
They had a job to do and little time to waste.
Camp was packed up and he strung his duffel on his back, full of the bulkier supplies. It was packed lean for such a short mission but still annoying to carry around.
He looked up at the swathe of stars, a tiny patch of sky visible through the tall evergreen trees. "How does a tree get ready for a date?"
Soap's face was covered but his body language conveyed his exasperation as he lowered his gun and shifted his weight. "Alright. Tell me."
"He spruces up."
"Foul. Let's move."
The pace they kept was brutal but necessary, having to catch the target now or he'd surely be gone as soon as the weather cleared. Weaving through trees and going deeper and deeper into the forest it all began to blend together. He felt a chill in his bones and his feet started to hurt after hours of movement.
The sun had risen and almost fallen by the time the cabin was in sight, having spent the better part of 16 hours just moving. He relaxed when the treeline was broken by their target and also disturbed by the fact that they had this location at all. Best to not get on the 141's bad side, this was proof they'd be able to track him to the ends of the Earth if they wanted him gone.
"Check the perimeter," he muttered to Soap, taking out his pack and assembling his rifle. Despite their surroundings being some of the more difficult terrain to blend into, the sergeant disappeared in seconds. It was a testament to his skills, a reminder that even if he was brash and headstrong he'd made it through selection for a reason.
He pressed himself to the ground, legs spread behind to keep himself stable as he packed snow on top of his gun and onto his body. Peering through the scope he could see two of the windows of the cabin were boarded up and the front door had no glass in it. He grunted, shifting to speak into his comms. "Front of house is boarded. No visual on the target."
"Copy. Rest o' the place is shut up too. I have eyes on the back, two boarded-up windows. One window on either side, all blocked."
"Copy." He considered their choices. The target would be leaving the house to try and escape before the storm came in, but he wasn't sure waiting was the best option. "Can you confirm the target's still there?"
"Aye. Well, someone's in there. Only one body on the heartbeat scanner."
Looks like they'd be waiting. Of every stakeout he'd done this was close to the short end, less than a day barely even qualifying as a stakeout to him. It was still annoying, the cold shortening his temper, the repetitive landscape boring him. He had been sweating into his gear after the trek to the cabin but even with wicking fabric it made him wet and clammy.
"Get comfortable," he replied, his barrel trained on where an average-sized man's head would emerge from the doorframe. "If there's no back door you can come around to the other side and set up. I want someone on the door at all times."
Soap's grumbling made it through the comms. "Could'a given me a better rifle. Might as well just make my way around 'n spot fer ya."
"You'd be bitching about carrying it if we gave you one. Besides, we're not far away. I can spot for myself."
"Look at ya, actin' like ye don't miss me."
"I'm not acting." He smiled as Soap expressed his mock-offense, picking up the sound of fabric rustling over his mic as he got into position. While he'd always insist this was a job he could've done solo, he was far from complaining about his company. It made the time pass faster and grounded him, forcing him to remember he was human and not a machine, programmed to pull the trigger on this informant as soon as he detected motion.
At this point he might not have called it better or worse than working alone. Just different.
He had around a full minute of peace before Soap was piping up in his ear again. "Do ya have an estimate on when he's gonna leave?"
"Negative. We're expecting him to move, it's not guaranteed."
An annoyed grunt made it back to him. "So we're sittin' on our asses 'till then? It's just him, surely one of us can flush him out 'n the other can take the shot."
He tossed the idea in his head. "We don't want to give him the chance to call backup. If they make it in before the storm it'll screw us over."
"How many would they send? They gotta know this guy's got a hit on him, bit of a lost cause."
"Sit still sergeant, we're waiting it out."
Another irritated noise was picked up by the mic. There was a small minute of peace broken once again by Soap. "Got anything ta pass the time?" He stayed silent on the line, not willing to give into his goading. "Ghost? Lt.? Didn't fall asleep on me, did ya?"
"Stay focused, Johnny."
"I am!" A pause. "So?"
"So what?"
"So...anything ta pass the time?"
He heaved a sigh, making sure the mic caught his exasperation. If it were anyone else he'd give his CO schtick, maybe reprimand them for not taking the op seriously. But with Soap things were different. He knew he was capable beyond his years, took everything deadly serious despite his disposition and lack of respect for authority. The fact that he respected Ghost at all still stunned him sometimes.
He was also having trouble saying 'no' to him anymore but that was a separate issue.
"What did you have in mind?"
The smile in Soap's voice was obvious as he continued. "Got any good jokes?"
Ghost considered for a moment, looking at the darkening sky. He was feeling a bit evil but if the target was going to emerge it would be soon, making him shelve the first thing that came to mind. "Want a riddle?"
"What, are ye a bridge troll now? Gonna make me solve yer riddles three?"
A small smile curled his lips. "Would be an awfully handsome troll."
"Y'know what? Sure, I'll let ya have that. Next to a troll you're mildly good-lookin'."
"Mildly? I'm wounded. Maybe I'll let you stew in silence for comparing your lieutenant to a troll."
"Aw c'mon, Lt., gimme that riddle. I'll be good."
"I doubt it." He thought it over for a moment. "The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?"
The line was silent for a few moments and Ghost turned his full attention back to watching the door. His comms crackled and almost made him jump at Soap's voice. "Aw, it's fuckin' footsteps isn't it?"
"Affirm."
"Where d'ya get all these? Got a joke book stashed somewhere?"
"That's classified," he replied, adjusting his scope as the last of the sunlight began to disappear. "If it starts snowing you can move in to lure him out of the cabin."
"Finally. Freezin' my balls off out here."
"Don't cause any damage, we need it to be in one piece so we can wait out the storm." There was a tiny stream of smoke from the chimney which held the promise of firewood. Hopefully it wouldn't be so bad.
"It's comin' down now."
"No it's not, that's the wind."
"Ye really gonna argue semantics? I know yer thinkin' 'bout the fire he's got in there. Saw a hot water heater on the side, too."
Busted. It was more likely Soap was also thinking about it, but he thought he did a good job of hiding his distaste for the cold. Despite everything, the sergeant always had an uncanny ability to read him. "Don't get too eager. Whatever the distraction is, it's up to you."
"Love ta hear it."
Any remaining light was extinguished by the time Soap checked in again. It was enough time for him to admit that maybe the snow was starting, small piles expanding the snow already packed onto his gun and jacket. The wind was picking up too, howling even through the trees as he kept his eye trained on the door through his scope.
"Planted a few charges. On yer signal."
"Copy." He adjusted himself in the snow bank, wiping the lens and moving so he'd get a clean hit, leaving the building undamaged. "Fire when ready."
There was a flash towards the back of the cabin, the sound carrying less than a second later. Loud, bright, and fast. Soap knew his stuff. His finger settled on the trigger, a deep inhale expanding his chest until he held his breath and waited.
A human shape appeared in the doorway, dropping limp to the ground just as quick. He released the trigger and lay still, watching the snow darken underneath the body. "Sitrep?"
"Target down. Left the door open, rat bastard. Gonna let all the heat out."
An amused huff left Ghost as he moved to get up, working out the stiff muscles and dusting off snow. "Confirm the kill and clear the house. I'll be up to handle the body in a few minutes."
"Aye, copy." He retrieved their bags from where they were stashed, crunching fresh snow under his boots. "He's dead. Perfect shot, as usual."
"Stay alert," he warned, approaching the cabin. It looked almost ominous, like one of those random cabin-in-the-woods deals from the slasher flicks Soap and Gaz would watch, the plot lost in their debate over whether the gore was accurate. Ghost knew it wasn't accurate but kept the nitty gritty to himself. Who cares if it's accurate? It's supposed to be theatrical.
"We're clear. He was the only one. Got some supplies, firewood. No radio or anythin', guess they really did give up on him."
"Copy. I'll take care of the body, check if the place is bugged." He heard Soap scoff as he grabbed the target's limp arm and pulled him into the treeline.
"Have some faith, Lt.. Already swept everything, meant it when I said clear."
By the time he'd gotten the body out of sight and cleaned up the bloodstained snow there was already a fresh layer of white over everything. It was like they were never there, giving Ghost the satisfaction of a job well done. The door opened with a creak as he stepped inside, the interior lit by a small fire.
"Oi! Close the feckin' door ye bampot," Soap snapped, chucking something in Ghost's direction that he avoided without thinking.
"English, MacTavish," he replied, his smirk concealed as the door shut behind him and he tapped his boots on the floor to get rid of some snow. It was nice, roomier than he would've expected with a small living area and bedroom. There was no wall separating them, the only closed-off room being what he assumed was the bathroom.
"Sorry, sir. Means close the door, idiot."
"Then say so."
"I did!" The firelight danced on Soap's face, glinting off of his toothy grin. His gear was piled in the corner, the heavier layers shed and leaving him in his thermals. They hugged his body in a flattering way and made Ghost wonder if he was always so big in the chest. "We gonna fight over the bed?"
He grunted in reply, pushing their duffels into the corner and taking apart his kit. "Would be a waste if I took it, you know I don't sleep."
"Maybe ye should, sir."
"I'm fine as I am. You can take the bed, need your beauty sleep."
Soap narrowed his eyes. "No need ta be snippy. Maybe ye'd be more attractive than a bridge troll if ye got some beauty sleep yerself."
"I know you're calling me ugly so I'll show you my face again, it's not gonna happen," he replied, enjoying the sergeant's palpable irritation as he turned away to swap out the insulated mask for a standard black one, no hardshell.
They bantered for a bit until he could tell the near twenty four-hour day was taking its toll on Soap and he retired to the bed. He played a few rounds of solitaire, getting a few shit hands before sitting back in the armchair. The wind howled outside and he was certain they'd be covered in snow by the morning. It was almost peaceful if he didn't think about the dead body outside.
Maybe he'd set up the bedrolls on the ground but he suddenly felt exhausted, head lolling to the side as his eyes slipped shut and sleep took him faster and easier than in recent memory.
DAY FOUR
"Lt.? We're cleared ta move."
Ghost stirred, having actually fallen asleep at some point. He blinked up at Soap, drowsiness clinging to his mind. It was a shame he slept for real, somehow it made him reluctant to get off of the hard ground and keep moving.
Hard ground?
His adrenaline kicked in late but he was fully alert now, thrashing in the bedroll on the snow-covered ground and flicking his eyes around to see the camp they'd left at midnight the day before. He crawled out, looking up at Soap and furrowing his eyebrows. "What...?"
"Hated ta disturb ya, ye looked peaceful for once in yer life. Must've had good dreams, aye?"
Dream? Is that what happened? It must be, some bizarro vivid dream of the mission they had yet to complete. He grunted, stretching out and crawling from the bedroll. "Yeah. Guess so."