A/N:I seem to be freaking out with all these oneshots I'm churning out... Anyway... Very light Soap/Ghost. Set during Post-Game, after Shepard's death. (Which happens to be one of the most badass endings a game could ever have. :3) Soap has been evacuated by Nicholai to a safe-haven and he's healing up before he has to face the repercussions of what he did.
DISCLAIMER: All glory be to Infinity Ward, the makers of this fine game. I wish they were mine, because I'm in love with Soap. Also, Ghost's voice. :3
He usually prided himself on being constatnly aware. Aware of sights, sounds, smells, locations... He was never lost and he always knew his way out. He knew who to call when a situation got out of hand. He could time things well enough to keep his team safe and the enemy off-guard.
But not this time.
This time they were unprepared. They didn't expect Shepard's betrayal. They weren't ready to fire at one whom they considered one of their own. A whole team destroyed over one man's bitterness.
Soap had only two regrets for his life. The first was that he hadn't been able to save Ghost from an enemy that was more of a specter than he was, that he hadn't been able to catch Roach after his last slip-up. His second regret was that he'd been too busy bleeding to kill Shepard as slowly as he deserved.
His thoughts returned to his dead team. Here he was, lying in a soft, warm bed healing up while his team members were killed and left to rot in the sun, left to be picked at by scavengers and skull-fucked by maggots. They weren't buried. He'd heard what Shepard had done to Ghost. "To congratulate you, have a bullet to the head and a funeral pyre."
Soap remembered Rio, when they had caught up to the right hand of Rojas. He remembered sending Roach, Chemo and Meat away while he stayed with Ghost, an informant, a metal chair and a car battery. The man talked readily enough once Ghost got started with his "interrogation", once he thought they'd stop the pain and let him live. Violation of protocol. Protocols were enacted to protect the team. Once the body had stopped twitching, Ghost had taken his mask off, the mask that protected his identity, protected his vain pride.
Soap didn't see why he hid behind the visage of a painted skull. Ghost's eyes were a bright, clear green that reminded Soap of Ireland and his short hair was a dark, inky black. But it was the scar Ghost hated looking at, the scar that curved from the corner of his left eye down to just below his lips, the scar that had faded, but was still a noticeable ravine carved into his skin. Soap had no problems with scars. They showed that you'd come close to death and kicked his ass back a few steps. They showed that you could get the shit beat out of you and keep fighting. Soap never saw the scar as the turn-off Ghost swore it was.
"How you holding up?" Price asked.
"I'll be back to normal soon enough." Soap promised.
"Just take it easy, McTavish."
"My team was wiped out by the man we were told to trust and follow with unquestioning loyalty, the man who swore he was on our side until the end. There's no 'taking it easy'." Soap growled.
"Then take it as easy as you can while we're waiting on your stitches to heal."
Soap muttered something that Price couldn't quite latch on to, but he had an idea of what it was. "I really doubt Ghost would want you doing something stupid to compromise an already FUBAR situation." He retorted.
The wince the comment wrought from the normally stoic McTavish was obvious. Price knew Ghost and Soap were close. He had his suspicions about the nature of their relationship, but he was old school "Don't ask, don't tell". And besides, the two of them made one hell of a team.
"Get some rest. As soon as I decide you're ready, we're going to kill every bastard Shepard ever dealt with." Price's promise was the only solace Soap had left.
A/N2: Ramirez! Make sure they review! :)