Archive of Our Own

"Soap– this is Ghost, how copy?"

Soap dropped on the ground, blood coloring the concrete crimson.
He struggled to get up, visibly shaking from the blood loss.

The adrenaline rush just wore down, and the pain from the bullet wound dominated him completely.

He put his hand in his own puddle of blood and slipped, hitting his body– his shoulder on the ground. He coughed in pain, not even being able to scream, mostly out of fear to be heard, but even because he couldn't bring himself to do that.

Everything felt heavy, his feet barely moving. He was cold. Odd, he thought, the weather was warm two minutes before.

"Johnny?"

Soap kept trying to hold on. He dragged himself on the floor, desperate to find something to help him get up, or someone– Ghost?

"Johnny… how copy?"

His eyelids felt heavier than his body, struggling to keep his eyes open: he looked around, trying to find Ghost, who was talking, but soon remembered about the transceiver on his vest.

"Ghost?" He clicked a button on his device.

Ghost exhaled: he didn't realize he was holding his breath. Hearing Soap's voice echoing inside the - now - empty church seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. But it couldn't be right. Soap sounded off.

"Situation?" Ghost asked.

"I don't feel good, L.T." Soap tried to chuckle it off, but coughed his lungs out as soon as he attempted to.

"Where are you located? I'm coming right now."

Ghost quietly opened the church door and aimed his gun in every direction, checking if somebody was there. He climbed up the metal fence and landed on his feet, almost losing balance.

"I'm trying to figure it out." Soap breathed out.

If Ghost wasn't focused on hearing Soap's voice over everything else, he would have probably missed it.

"What's around you?"

It took everything in Soap to flip himself on his back and look around better. He struggled to sit up for a couple of seconds, his head spinning and his ears ringing: his eyes were unfocused, it felt like the world was moving too much in front of him.

"Houses… cars…" Soap started naming what he was looking at.

"Yeah, no, Johnny, those are everywhere- tell me something specific." Ghost stressed.

"I think there's a… grocery store here. It's closed."

Ghost mentally noted the grocery store.

"What's it look like?"

"Well…" Soap stared at the closed shutter. "There's this gray shutter and there's a penis graffiti painted on. It's white. It has a red sombrero on."

"You think Mexican men have sombreros on their dicks?" Ghost tried to crack the saddest joke: he would have taken every opportunity to keep Soap alive.

"Maybe. Who knows…" Soap simply replied, laying his back on a wall he managed to drag into.

"We'll have to ask Alejandro when we find him, shall we?" Ghost teased, as he aimed at the one Shadow's head, shooting right at it.

Soap actually smiled at that. "Sure."

But Ghost wasn't content with the short responses. That couldn't be good at all. How bad could a bullet wound to the shoulder be? But Ghost knew nothing needed to be underestimated. There could be blood loss, there's different levels of pain tolerance, different spots. He couldn't even briefly think that something can't hurt that much.

"Where did you get shot at?" Ghost kept running through the streets, trying to find the grocery store or Soap.

"In between my shoulder and my chest."

"Unlucky."

"Pretty much…"

Ghost tried to find some bad joke in the back of his mind, ANYTHING to get a single response from Soap.

"Why did the biscuit go to the doctor?" The question was combined with the sound of shots that Ghost was firing at two Shadows on his way.

Soap took some time to reply. "Why?"

"It was feeling crumby."

Soap smiled. "That's horrible, Ghost…"

If Soap wasn't feeling as shitty, he could have noticed how Ghost's voice shaked a little while making the joke. It almost cracked, like if he was desperate to just talk, and make sure to hear a voice reply to that.

"I'm cold." Soap was slowly laying down on the concrete. "And I'm so tired…"

"It's not bed time, Johnny."

No response. Ghost's heart sinked in his chest.

"Johnny?"

Soap opened his eyes: when did he close them?

"Mh?"

Ghost cursed under his breath. Where was this fucking grocery store?

"Knock knock."

"Who's there?" John's voice sounded weaker and weaker by the second.

"Tank." Ghost looked around, desperate.

A couple of seconds went by. "Tank who?" Soap finally replied.

"You're welcome… a little army humor."

"Absolutely disgusting, L.T…"

"I take it as a compliment."

A woman screaming for her children made Ghost snap his head towards her direction. There he was: Graves himself. With him, a big group of Shadows.

"Graves is fucking lives up." Ghost mumbled.

"Yeah… just heard a woman screaming." Soap fought to keep his eyes open, shivering.

Ghost's head snapped up, looking around. Soap was very close. He quietly ran away from the Shadows group and frantically started looking around. Houses, houses… and the grocery store with that funky graffiti!

"Soap!" Ghost dropped to his knees as soon as he saw Soap laying on the concrete, a very big pool of blood surrounding him. "I'm here, Johnny, open your eyes…"

Soap forced his eyes open and looked at Ghost, trying to focus his sight on him.

Ghost's heart kept pounding in his chest, and he was almost afraid it would just burst out, or that Soap could hear it. His hands were shaking as he laid the gun on the ground and tried to get Soap to sit up. John groaned, not even having the slightest bit of energy to tell Ghost it hurt really bad. But Ghost knew; he was good at reading expressions.

"I know, Johnny, I know… it's gonna be fine, yeah?" Ghost wailed, maybe he was also comforting himself with those words.

Soap couldn't force his muscles to move and to hold him sitting up, so Ghost had to keep him sitting with an arm behind his back. Suddenly, Soap felt warm again, and the feeling made him close his eyes…
Everything was bloody: Soap's clothes, the ground, and even Ghost's clothes were starting to be tinted red already.

The bigger man took a knife from his vest and struggled a bit to use it to rip off a piece of his clothing to use as a temporary bandage to stop the quick blood loss: he grabbed one end of the black fabric with the hand that was holding Soap and used the other to tighten it around the wound. He pulled the two ends to tie them together near Soap's chest.

That's when he realized Soap's chest wasn't rising anymore.

"Soap?" Ghost called him and watched his face. His eyes were closed, head tilted towards Ghost's shoulder, and the previous painful expression was replaced with a kind of relaxed one. "No no no, Soap!" He shook him, hoping that would wake him up. "JOHNNY!!"

When shaking Soap didn't work, Ghost's first reaction was to lay him down gently, completely against the desperation he felt: he took off his gloves, tossing them to the side and grabbing Soap's wrist, trying to feel for a pulse.

"Johnny, wake the fuck up right now!" Ghost almost shouted, immediately positioning his hands on Soap's chest, centered. He started doing compressions, counting 30 of them. "It's not time to play, Soap, come on!"

Ghost took his mask off and tossed it on the gloves laying on the ground. He sealed his lips on Soap's and blew air in his mouth, hoping to at least give him some more time. He started doing compressions again, closely watching Soap's face for any sign of life. "Come on, Johnny, for fuck's sake!"

Ghost bent again, taking a breath and blowing air in Soap's mouth again, twice this time. He barely had any air left himself since he started hyperventilating, trying to keep his hands steady on Soap's chest. He kept it up with compressions and mouth to mouth, losing track of time: when he saw Soap's chest rising without his help, he felt like he could collapse right there. He heavily sat back and took a series of deep breaths, his gaze fixated on Soap's face and chest, making sure he didn't stop breathing again.

He raised a shaky hand to his face, trying to wipe away the sweat beads that formed around his forehead, and he was surprised to be met with a tear on the corner of his left eye.

"Fucking hell, Johnny…" Ghost breathed out, feeling some kind of anger rising in his chest.

He grabbed his mask and gloves, shoving them both in his pocket and secured his gun before attaching it to his vest. He picked Soap up gently, careful not to mess up the wound even more and walked towards a Shadow's car parked a few meters away. Every few steps, though, Ghost made sure to look at Soap and check if he was still breathing, or check for a pulse, and every time it turned out successful.

Once he got to the car, he tried the handle from the passenger's seat and opened the car door fully. He looked at Soap again, who just looked like he was sleeping. Ghost wondered if with his head laid on his chest, Soap could hear how fast his heart was beating, still.

"When you wake up I'm gonna end you myself, Johnny…" Ghost whispered, sitting Soap in the passenger's seat, securing him with the belt.

Ghost walked in front of the car, to the driver's seat and got in the car. He made sure Soap couldn't move that much from where he was, because Ghost was about to start the car and speed away.

He started the car, stupid Shadow left the key inside the car.

"Hold on for me, Johnny, I'm gonna bring you to safety." Ghost gulped.

Simon kept checking Soap, looking over to him, making sure his chest was still rising. Sometimes he stopped to look a little closer, deathly afraid he stopped breathing again, and Ghost risked hitting a wall, or a light pole, or some civilians at times. He always stopped in time, thankfully, and managed to not crash the car.

"Soap? Ghost? Do you copy?" A voice breached from both of their radios.

"Captain?" Ghost replied, hitting a button.

"Ghost, Shepard-"

"I have Soap with me- he's unconscious, I performed CPR on him some minutes ago." Ghost stopped Price's words.

"What?! Where are you?"

Ghost looked at Soap again, briefly, then slowed down to touch his wrist again: still alive. He then finally told Price where he was located, that he stole a car and asked if and where he could find a safe place to take care of Soap.

"I don't think we have time for that. Shepard betrayed us, we need to stop him and his men, and we need to do it now."

"NO!" Ghost gripped the steering wheel with force. "This isn't about me, Captain… please."

Price looked over to Gaz, who looked as surprised as him by hearing Ghost beg. Price looked hesitant to work for something this important without Ghost's help. Gaz, on the other hand, felt Ghost's pain.

"We can do it, Captain," Gaz nodded and looked at Price. "let him be."

"Fine. I'm calling you a chopper and I'll send you the location."

"Thank you, Captain." Ghost breathed out.

Simon pulled over to check for the exact location the helicopter was going to be: it wasn't far away from where he was, and at this point, they were mostly safe. Ghost ran a hand in his hair, stressed. "You awake, Johnny?" he asked, not receiving any reply. "Yeah, right… I'm checking this car to see if the Shadows have something medical. Don't die when I'm not watching, or I'm bringing you back again so that I can end you myself…"

Ghost took a deep breath and slightly punched the steering wheel with both his fists. He opened the car door and stepped out, checking the seats behind from the car windows: a couple of spare guns, which he didn't need yet, some cloth and some water bottles.

He opened the back trunk and looked inside. There was a medical bag that was bigger than a classical first aid kit. Bingo.

Ghost opened it up and looked inside: instant ice packs, band aids, suture points, medical pliers, scalpel, scissors, cotton swabs, disinfectant and bandages. Alright. He needed Soap now.

He walked over to the front passenger's seat and opened it. As always, the first thing he did was checking for Soap's vitals, and when everything was still okay, he unbuckled him and lifted him up, carrying him to the trunk. Soap scrunched his face, letting out a very quiet painful groan: Ghost's heart skipped a beat as he looked down at Soap immediately.

"You awake, Johnny?" He tried asking.

"Hurts like a bitch…" Soap's reply was weak and Ghost barely heard it. But he heard it.

"I know, Johnny. I found some bandages, hold on, okay? It's gonna hurt."

"Ghost?" Soap looked up, meeting Ghost's dark eyes and bare face. "You're naked…"

"Shut up…" Ghost tried to hide a smile, mostly a relief one. No matter what, Soap could still joke, even after surviving death. "Focus on not dying again."

"I died?"

"Yeah. You gave me quite the fright."

"So sad I missed it."

"Can you sit up while I put bandages on?"

"No…" Soap closed his eyes. "I feel like jello. I want to sleep."

"You lost a shit ton of blood, of course you feel dead tired." Ghost helped Soap sit with his back against the car, then stepped away to grab the disinfectant, the bandages and the scissors. "You can sleep if you need to, later. We have a heli coming for you. VIP treatment."

"And you're going back to the mission?"

"No." Ghost simply replied, unwilling to open up to Soap more. He kneeled in front of the younger man, unfastening the cloth he used to bandage Soap up. "Scream if you feel like it, nobody will hear you."

Soap hissed feeling the cloth ripped away from the open wound: it sticked with the blood and looked and felt gross, and most of all, it fucking hurt.

"I can't even scream, L.T…" Soap's eyes filled with painful tears. He clenched his jaw and took a shaky deep breath.

"Feeling that shitty, eh?"

The answer didn't come, but they both knew it was like that. Soap fucking died for fifteen minutes and stayed passed out for about half an hour and he didn't have that much blood left in him.
Simon helped Soap remove his vest and shirt so that he could get easy access to the bullet wound. He couldn't be able to remove the bullet himself or that would end Soap completely.

So, Ghost started wiping some dry blood away with cotton swabs, then he did his best to disinfect the wound, drawing an agonizing cry out of Soap.

"It burns…" Soap cried out.

"If you're good I'll give you a lollipop later." Ghost joked, trying to lift the mood.

"You better do that, 'cause I'll need that sugar…"

Ghost unrolled the roll of bandages and started applying it tightly around Soap's wound, securing it around the chest, and all around the arm, so it wouldn't fall off. He cut the end with scissors when he felt like there were enough layers that the blood won't slip through and secured it.

"How's it feel?" Ghost asked, looking at Soap in the eyes.

"It still hurts pretty bad, but I'm sure it's gonna be fine in the end."

Ghost sighed and got up, tossing everything back in the medkit. Soap didn't look ok in the slightest and Ghost had a terrible fear of losing him any moment now.

He stared at the medkit's items for a good minute, mentally debating if Soap needed something else. When he got to the final decision to not overdo it, he closed the back trunk and came back to Soap. His eyes were closed, and Ghost felt his heart drop to his feet.

"JOHNNY?" Ghost threw himself on the knees and grabbed Soap by both shoulders.

"Ow, fuck…" Soap opened his eyes, feeling excruciating pain on his injured shoulder.

"Fucking hell, Johnny…" Ghost let Soap go, coughing a bit after his breath hitched.

"Worried about me, eh, Ghost?" Soap looked tiredly at Soap, attempting a weak smile.

Ghost glared at Soap, but he couldn't just hide the worry his eyes were drowning into.

"Can you get up?" Ghost simply asked, ignoring the question Soap did before.

John shook his head. Ghost simply picked up Soap without any more questions and carried him to the passenger's seat again. He opened the back seat, also, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to Soap.

"Drink a little before we head for the chopper. It's probably gonna be there in about half an hour. You can catch some sleep right after you drink."

"Thanks, Simon…"

Ghost stared at Soap, now busy opening the bottle and drinking in small sips. He couldn't even argue with him for using his real name. He sighed and walked to the driver's side and sat in, closing the car door.

Soap handed him the water bottle, he didn't drink much, but considering the state he was in, it was only normal for him not to.

"You also drink. You look like shit." Soap mumbled.

Ghost was pale from the series of bad emotions he felt in the span of a couple hours, and he'd really use some water. He grabbed the bottle and drank more than half of it. He cleared his throat, closing the bottle's lid and muttered a "thanks".

"I want to sleep sooo bad…" Soap deflated on his seat.

"You can do it," Ghost buckled his belt for him. "I'll wake you up when we get there."

Soap's immediate response was to relax and close his eyes, and Ghost started the car again. The quiet rumbling of the moving car made Soap drift right to a very much needed sleep.

Ghost gulped down his saliva, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. His urge to check if Soap was still breathing every few minutes grew strong again.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the road. He talked with him barely seconds ago, he'd be fine.
Still, it only took said seconds for Soap to almost die.
He couldn't just ignore him, knowing what happened before.

Ghost looked over at Soap's sleeping face: his lips were barely parted, a sign he was still breathing, but his face was very pale and his dark circles were popping more than usual. Sure, that was only natural since the man lost a shit ton of blood. Simon reached his hand on Soap's wrist again, slowing down so he didn't hit a road bump at full speed and unintentionally hurt Soap more.

Soap's body felt cold, and Ghost had to gulp down the sense of horror that pierced his body at the sensation. There was a pulse, though, even if weak. Soap was fine, he was gonna be fine. The exfil was also close, so if anything had to happen, he could trust the doctors.

Ghost sped to the extraction point, parking the car half-assed, but he couldn't care less at that moment. He heavily sighed, laying the back of his head on the headrest, closing his eyes and trying to clear his very busy mind with no success.

"Soap?" Ghost opened his eyes again to look at Soap who was still sleeping. "We're at the exfil, Johnny. You made it here alive… even before the heli." Ghost kept saying, mostly to comfort himself, agan, since Soap probably couldn't hear him.

He then looked in the sky, eyeing the helicopter coming their way. Ghost's eyes filed with tears he was fighting to not let out the whole time. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood from it, trying to keep it together. For Soap.

He wiped a tear away with the back of his hand then looked at it. "Fucking hell…" he muttered, looking at the black paint smeared on his hand.

He grabbed his balaclava from his pocket and put it on a moment later. He didn't want to be seen by someone that wasn't Soap, or Price right now. No, he didn't want to be seen by anybody. And if anyone had the balls to ask what happened to the face paint, if that looked that bad, he'd just say the sweat ruined it.

When the helicopter started to get closer to the ground, Ghost got out of the vehicle and walked to the passenger's seat, unbuckling Soap.

"Hey, the heli is here…" Ghost gently shaked Soap's body, always trying not to hurt him.

Soap laid unresponsive, and Ghost stared at his chest immediately, then got slightly reassured when he saw it rising as Soap breathed.

Before he picked him up, Ghost took off his vest and threw it on the ground, proceeding to unzip his ripped jacket, and take it off, remaining with just a black t-shirt; he covered Soap's torso with it, then he put the vest back on again.

The helicopter's propellers were making things fly out as it got closer to the ground.

"Get in!" A man yelled from it, gesturing to Ghost to approach.

Ghost put an arm behind John's back and one under his knees, picking him up from his seat and holding him close to him, then he walked over to the helicopter and climbed on it.

"I'm Sergeant Edwards, sir." The man from before spoke, as three other men approached. "You can entrust we with–"

"I'm not trusting you." Ghost snapped, holding Soap tighter as the helicopter took off.

"We're trained medical professionals, we can-"

"I SAID NO!" Ghost didn't mean to shout, but he ducked to the side, moving his arms a little too roughly. Soap groaned as he woke up at the sudden pain piercing his shoulder.

Ghost's head snapped down and his panicked eyes met Soap's groggy, pained ones that stared back at him.

The silence fell as the four medics looked at each other; neither of them even met someone that was holding back someone so much.

"I'm sorry, I-" Ghost tried to whisper to Soap, but he stopped in his tracks as he felt the same tears from before coming back.

"What's happening? Where are we..?" Soap asked, closing his eyes again, hoping that the headache that started to add up to the rest of the pain.

"We're in the helicopter…" Ghost started. "You need to be properly taken care of…" he then admitted.

"Okay..?"

"I don't want to let you go." Ghost quickly said.

Even though Soap's headache was growing strong and his body struggling to keep him awake, he managed to read the 'I care about you' between the words.

"I'll be fine…" Soap tried to convince Ghost.

"The last time I let you go you died, MacTavish…"

Soap couldn't really find a comeback to that in his state, but he must admit, Ghost was damn right.

"Sir…" another man interrupted, "we're headed to a hospital either way. I'm sorry but you're gonna have to let him go either way."

"I'll wait." Ghost said, harshly.

Soap laid the side of his head on Ghost's chest again.

"Your heart is pounding, L.T." John breathed out.

Ghost watched as the four men sat down looking defeated. He couldn't leave Soap to them. He couldn't trust them not to mess up and leave Ghost in a cold, Soap-less world.

Soap smiled slightly at the sudden realization of his upper body being covered. His brain was processing everything very slowly, and the fact that he had just realized that he was 'wearing' Ghost's jacket while being in his arms made him feel a little fuzzy inside.

He relaxed at the sound of Ghost's heart rate slowing down as Ghost calmed down. The last thing he felt before falling asleep again was Ghost's ungloved hand caressing Soap's hair slowly.

Ghost felt the shaved part of Soap's mohawk with his palm, running it up and down: his hair was probably freshly shaved too.

Ghost's mind couldn't stop running: the horrors of his life coming back to haunt him, the people he lost, the men he couldn't save, and now, Soap risked getting on to that list.

"We're about to land!" The train of thoughts was cut short by the driver.

And apparently, the look of 'already?' was very visible on Ghost's face even with the balaclava on, that one of the medics spoke, much to Ghost's surprise. "It's almost been an hour, sir."

"An hour?!" Ghost got alarmed. An hour and he didn't check if Soap was still fine? He quickly put a hand on Soap's neck, looking for a pulse, which was surely there, and not as weak as it was before. Then, he gently grabbed Soap's wrist to check for the time on his watch. Surely it has been almost an hour since they took off.

The next twenty minutes were a blur for Ghost; Soap was ripped away from his arms, put on a medical stretcher and dragged away for surgery to remove the bullet. Before Soap had said surgery, Ghost was poked with a needle and some blood was drained away from him. "We need a blood transfusion." was the catch.

Ghost really felt like he was living life from another perspective: yes, he agreed to donate his blood to Soap, and yes, he did let go of Soap, but everything felt so surreal. The one medic in charge of the blood transfusion thing even tried to ask questions on how Soap was shot, but got little to no answer from Ghost. He kept staring at the needle in his arm and his blood filling the bag up. His own blood. Going into Soap.

Not only did he save his life earlier, but he was giving him a little bit of himself to further assure that Johnny got a second chance at life. Crazy.

He looked at the jacket in his hands that Soap wore just some minutes before and took a deep breath. He looked around, blinking and trying to process what the hell happened during the last minutes.

He sighed, staring at the ripped part of the jacked. He kinda felt proud of saving Soap's life, but also he felt angry at him for being so careless. He knew he should be careful. One bullet could be all it takes.

"Excuse me…" a nurse approached Ghost. She clearly felt intimidated when Simon's cold eyes stared back at her, and she struggled to let words out. "The surgery was a success." She managed to say.

"Can I see him?" Ghost got up, towering over the woman.

"He's sleeping now, so if-"

"I don't care. I need to see him." Ghost explained, maybe a bit more harshly than what he intended.

"Right away, sir." The nurse gulped down in fear, making her way to where Soap's room was located.

Ghost followed without a word, and when the woman showed him the room, Ghost thanked the nurse with a nod, and she hurried away. Then Simon stepped in, immediately getting a gut wrenching feeling at the sight of Soap's unconscious hooked with IV's.

"You… fucking moron." Ghost breathed out grabbing a chair. "You should know better."

Soap didn't move, nor did he open his eyes. He laid on the bed, thankfully still breathing without a breathing mask.

"I could have left you there to die, you know that, Johnny?" Ghost moved his arm to grab Soap's hand, "I could have not even reached out for you. Maybe nobody would have known where you died."

"Then why didn't you?" Soap quietly asked, startling Ghost that thought he really was knocked out.

"You're awake…" Ghost only tightened his grip on Soap's hand. John opened his eyes and gave Ghost a faint smile.

"Answer me…" Soap insisted.

"I don't know."

"Thank you, still. For saving my life, I mean."

"No need."

"I'll need that jacket, L.T." Soap eyed the jacket that Ghost placed on his knee.

"Why? It's ripped. It's going in the trash."

"Well, call me trash, 'cause I'll be needing it. Come on, as a memento for this day."

"...you want a ripped jacket?"

"Yep."

"Sure. I guess…"

Soap finally squeezed Ghost's hand, smiling wider. Ghost grabbed the jacket and tossed it over Soap's already covered body. Soap spent no time grabbing it and hugging it with his good arm.

Ghost stared at him, his gaze softening a little. Seeing so much action from the smaller man comforted him, for some reason. He felt warm to his chest, and the feeling slowly rose to his face.

What started as a good feeling ended up breaking Ghost completely: he threw himself on Soap's chest and just started sobbing, squeezing him tightly as he let the built up emotions out.

Soap stared at Ghost, mouth open- he couldn't even tell Ghost the sudden movement hurt him a little– he couldn't. Instead, he slowly placed a hand on Simon's back, rubbing circles with his palm.

"It's okay…" John tried to comfort him, "You're okay…"

When Ghost raised his head to look at Soap, he was met with an obviously worried look. To add up to the mental pain, he felt panic rising: was Soap thinking Ghost was going crazy? Was he about to tell him to suck it up?

"I- I should go. I need to–"

"Stay." Soap softly interrupted him. "Let it all out."

Ghost held his breath for a second, forced to exhale a second later due to the shortness of breath the crying left him with. He couldn't even think about the disgust Soap must be feeling, looking at him crying like a baby–

"You're human." Soap seemed to read into Ghost's mind, "It's ok to break down. I can't even start to imagine how you felt during this whole time."

"I'm… sorry. You shouldn't see me like this, I-"

"Shut up, Simon, come on." Soap's voice tone hardened a bit. "Do you really think someone would spend hours trying to keep someone alive and not break down after? Please. I love you even like this. I love you in any way, damn it."

"Wh-" Ghost felt the sadness drain, suddenly replaced with shock. "What did you say?"

Soap blinked in confusion, then seemed to realize what he just said. His eyes widened, and his cheeks turned pink.

"I- I know you feel the same!" Soap tried to play it off. "Don't deny it. Denial is a river in Egypt."

Ghost removed his wet balaclava and tossed it on the bed. His eyes were a little red, his eye bags popped a little more, but his face was the look of confusion.

"Denial is… what?"

Soap stared back at him, with delight, happy to see him again. He didn't quite decipher his face when he was so badly injured and barely conscious.

"You're back." John smiled. "Come on, admit that you like me back."

"You're clearly still not fine, Johnny, I should leave."

"Stop trying to avoid me!" Soap cried out, begging Ghost not to go.

"What do you want me to say?!"

"The truth!"

"Yes!" Ghost snapped, not really angry, but quite frustrated.

"See? That wasn't hard to- WHAT?"

Ghost wanted to smash his head into some of that medical equipment, already regretting his words.

Silence fell between the two. None of the two dared to move a muscle or say something. They were awkwardly staring at each other.

"Then kiss me, what the hell." Soap finally broke the silence.

"I touched your lips with mine when I was giving you mouth to mouth."

"That doesn't count!"

Ghost hesitated, then he brought his face closer to Soap's. There was no way he was about to kiss him, now…

But then he did: the distance between the two closed off, and their lips met, this time not to resuscitate Soap, but- as a kiss. And now Ghost realized how soft Soap's lips felt, and how good it was to feel that closure.

Ghost then retrieved the kiss, taking a deep breath, processing it.

"I…" Ghost tried to say, stopping halfway through. "I… love…" Simon pressured himself to finish the sentence. "I love you."

Soap smiled, reaching a hand on Ghost's face.

"I love you too, Simon."

—

Ghost knocked on Soap's door. It was day one back at the base, and Soap went straight to sleep, ignoring everything he needed to do- he didn't shower, he didn't give his report to Price. Nothing. Price didn't even pressure him, he could have the report later anyways. But the later came, and Soap still hasn't gotten out of his room.

When Ghost got no answer, he tried the door handle. Surprisingly, the door opened. He quietly stepped in, approaching Soap's bed.

"Johnny?" He squatted to reach Soap's body. He was sleeping so soundly and he looked so peaceful, finally.

Ghost felt almost too guilty to wake him up, but he had to. He gently placed a hand on Soap's side, shaking him just enough to awaken him from his slumber.

"What..? What?" Soap jumped up, then cried out at the ache in his shoulder.

"It's me, Ghost." The man started, "Price needs the report and he asked me to wake you up for it."

Soap sighed, his body relaxing at the words. He got tense when he woke up, thinking that he was about to be deployed somewhere new, not even having the time to recover from the wound.

"Ahh, bleedin' Jesus..." Soap groaned, uncovering his body from the blankets. That's when Ghost noticed the black ripped jacket worn on Soap's body, a couple of sizes too large for him.

"You're really wearing that?" He asked.

"This might be the equivalent of a promise ring, Si, just so you know."

"I'm not ready for commitment."

"Oh?" Soap grabbed the papers and a pen, then turned to look at Ghost. "I thought we were a thing."

Ghost shrugged then turned to get out.

"Wait, hold up!" Soap sprinted, not caring that the running disturbed his shoulder, and placed himself in front of the door, aiming the pen to Ghost's face. "We are a thing!" He insisted. "Right?"

"Johnny, I-"

"We kissed!" Soap lowered his hand, looking at Ghost with sad eyes. "We said we love each other."

"That doesn't mean anything, I wasn't myself back then."

Soap's face dropped completely. He stayed silent as he closed the door, put down the papers and grabbed Ghost's wrist to drag him to the unmade bed. Soap sat down, patting the empty side next to him. Ghost sat down and refused to look at Soap in his eyes.

"Did that really not matter to you, Ghost?" Soap started asking.

"I guess I don't know."

"Did it matter to Simon?"

Ghost froze– he detached to 'Simon' because the flow of the emotions he felt was too much, unbearable for his job.
And Simon broke the character of 'Ghost' when he was met with Soap's incident. And all he drowned in his mind suddenly bursted out.

"I… guess so." Ghost admitted.

"Then I want Simon to tell me." Soap scooted closer and he carefully reached for his face, pulling his balaclava up, "Did it matter, Simon?"

Simon sighed, his bare face staring at Soap's yet again. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

"It's okay. You take your time." Soap carefully spoke, getting up to grab the papers again. He then sat down next to Ghost again, starting to write his report.
The sound of the pen scribbling on the paper was the only thing that could be heard in the room, except the occasionals deep breaths from Soap. He really didn't want to write that shit down, and what was worse was that Ghost– Simon- still hasn't spoken a word.

Soap numbered each action on the report, checking it all over again. He handed the papers to Ghost. "What do you think?"

Simon grabbed the papers, and read them quickly, his mind wasn't really on the mission anymore, and he knew Soap was trying to find an excuse to make him talk.

"It did matter, Johnny." Simon finally spoke, handing the papers back to Soap.

John weakly took the papers back, staring at Ghost in disbelief. At this point, he didn't expect a positive answer.

"It fucking did." Simon kept saying. "I fucking lost you and then I got you back. That kiss made me feel… good. I didn't think I-"

Soap shushed Ghost with yet another kiss, grabbing his face with one hand. Simon's tense shoulders relaxed and he leaned into Johnny's smaller body, pressing his lips on Soap's. He closed his eyes, savoring that familiar moment. When he pulled back, he took a deep breath, and accepted Soap's hug, resting his head in his chest. He listened to the comforting sound of his heart beating.

"It's good to have you alive."

"It's good to have you, Simon." Soap replied.

Ghost breathed in, and Soap didn't smell the best as he didn't shower yet, but Simon didn't care. His Johnny was there, alive and eventually well, and that's what mattered the most to him.

"Now, shall we give these to Price?" Soap asked, smiling at Simon.

And Ghost nodded, putting his balaclava back on. They walked the corridor in silence, Soap reading what he wrote all over again, checking for mistakes. Ghost knocked on Price's office and opened the door for Soap after he heard the familiar "come in".

Simon watched and listened as Price asked how Soap was, then the conversation blurred out, the weight of his thoughts oppressing him again: what would this moment feel like if Ghost wasn't there? What if Soap was alone? If Ghost didn't care to come back? And what if the Cartel kidnapped Soap before Ghost could get there? If they kept him captive like they did to him years ago? What if at this time he was–

"Thank you, Captain!" Soap's voice broke the negativity in Ghost's mind.

"Of course, son, rest up." Price replied.

Soap took Ghost's hand and closed the door behind them. Ghost tensed at the sudden contact, but Soap began walking with a smile painted on his face, holding hands with a hesitant Simon.

"What are you doing?" Ghost whispererd.

"Walking back to my room, why?"

"You–" Ghost stopped, accepting that moment. He enjoyed it anyway.

When they walked in Soap's room again, Ghost plopped on the bed, feeling exhaustion take the better of him suddenly.

"I think I need to go to my room."

"Sleep with me? Please?" Soap shot his best puppy eyes, looking at Ghost. "Take care of this poor wounded soldier?"

Ghost had to suppress a smile, then he took his balaclava off again, getting comfortable.

"Alright, poor little wounded plonker. Come here."

Ghost made Soap get on the wall's side of the bed, which was small for two people, but they made it work; then Simon laid on the opposite side, so that in case of danger, he could be the first one to get up, and eventually protect him.

Soap placed a comforting kiss on Ghost's lips. "Sleep. You deserve it."

"Mmh…" Ghost replied, closing his eyes and trying to relax and ignore his mind still running.

Soon, Ghost's breathing got slower and Soap stared at his face, trying to take a mental picture of all the details of Ghost's relaxed face.

Then it hit– the notebook he had under his pillow. He got it out, a black pen attached to it, and carefully sat with his back to the wall, and started drawing Ghost's face on it.

As he added more and more details, John realized: he loved Ghost more than he could ever express.