A/N: Hey everyone... this originally a one-shot of poor Ghostie's death, but if I get enough reviews and people want more... Just let me know... I will be happy to oblige.
Disclaimer: Do not own Call of Duty Modern Warfare Two, but sorely wish I did... Ghost would not have died in my version.
Read and Review Please!
My best friend was about to kill me. I should have known I would die this way. The gun was pointed directly at me. An M9, to be exact. The gun was my best friend, and now it will kill me. The trigger was slowly being pushed inward. Time seemed to slow.
It would have been better had I not died at the hands of Shepherd, the scoundrel who led my team to the slaughterhouse. He was about to kill off Roach, and now he was going to kill me. I can't say I'm not surprised. I think I never did trust the general with his hard-line rules and regulations.
As the trigger closed in on me, I closed my eyes. Memories flooded back to me. All those birthdays, my first dog, the first day of high school, the day I dropped out of high school, the first day I met her. That was the only upside to this whole thing. I would finally be able to see my Lucy again.
I remember her as clear as day… dark-brown hair, grey eyes that made you think of stormy seas as you gazed into them, round face, short nose, perfectly shaped pink lips. My angel. My Lucy Goodwin. I remembered the first day I met her…
It was the first few months after I dropped out of my senior year of high school. I was eighteen already and school made me want to blow my bloody head off. And my parents wanted me to go to Oxford? Yeah, right. So I did what any other high school dropout did. I joined the army.
I'd always had a connection with guns, playing realistic war games whenever I could, spending much of my time in a paintball arena, and water guns were always the best part of summer. I loved guns. The power, the power to give a life or take it. The strength to pull the trigger. I loved it all. It was fitting that I should join the one thing I knew the most about.
My second month in the general army, there she was. Standing right beside me. Pointing a knife at me. It was a training exercise and she was demonstrating how to take a man down and slit his throat in ten seconds. She brought me down with no trouble in five.
Because my bloody pride was hurt, I didn't talk to her at all afterwards, even though I thought she was the most beautiful creature I'd ever laid eyes upon. Some of my friends in the army told me her name was Lucy Goodwin, but everyone called her Jaguar. Why? Because she snuck up on her victims. They never even knew what was coming. I didn't either.
About six months in, several skirmishes broke out along the border. I was placed on the same team as Jag (as those close to her would call her). We still had never talked. But my undying curiosity to know her took over. She was too interesting to resist.
"Hey. They call me Ghost."
"Oh yeah, I know you. You were the one I killed in five seconds. I guess you are a ghost now, right?" Then she walked away. Our first conversation and she had wiped my pride right off the face of the earth. At least I had a chance to look at her clearly. She couldn't have been older than me, yet she had so much expertise that she couldn't possibly be any younger than twenty (she was, in fact, eighteen; her father was in the army and taught her everything she knew). Her eyes were in a constant state of sadness and she always gave off the impression she was bored or apathetic. But she most assuredly wasn't.
She saved my life once. It was during a battle and I was so intensely focused on the blokes I was shooting I didn't notice one throwing a grenade at me. Jag noticed, and after figuring out I wasn't paying attention, came to save me. She dashed through the line of fire to me and knocked both of us out of the way. The grenade exploded behind us. "Watch what you're doing, soldier! You could've gotten both of us killed!" She then immediately stood up and returned to shooting into enemy lines.
After the enemy had retreated and we had won the battle, my team and I were all sitting around a fire eating. I had the good fortune to choose the spot next to Jag. "Why'd you do it?" I whispered in her ear.
"Do what?" She whispered back.
"Save me? Out there?" She chuckled.
"You remind me of my dad. He would've done something stupid like that too. You should really pay more attention to what's going on around you if you want to survive."
"What if I don't want to survive?" She turned towards me, fire reflecting in her eyes.
"Then you'd already be dead. If you don't have the will to live out here, you won't live." She got up and walked away. Every time she wasn't near me, I could feel something missing. It was like she had always been there. As the skirmishes turned into full-on war, our team grew smaller and smaller. But Lucy remained. I was beginning to think she was untouchable.
One night, as we sat waiting for out next commands, I crept up close to Jag. "Can I ask you a question, Jag?"
"Shoot." Even now I think that was probably the best pun I'd ever heard in my life.
"Why'd you join the army?" Peoples' pasts in the army were a touchy subject. You never talked about home, family, your life before the war.
"Why not?" That's all the answer she gave me. "What about you, Simon Riley?" I had no idea how she figured out my real name, but I didn't ask.
"I was never good at anything else." She snorted.
"Never good at anything besides killing…that's everyone, Hun."
It didn't take me long after that to figure out that I needed Lucy. We made a good team, on and off the field. On the field, we covered each other's blind spots. Off the field, we snuck away to a rooftop somewhere and just talked. We supported each other, helped each other out. She even asked me that if she didn't make it out of the war alive to tell her mother that she was sorry. What for, I never asked.
It was one such night when we snuck out of base camp that I finally told her I how I felt. We were sitting out under the stars, talking about what we would do when we got back home, and I suddenly blurted out, "I love you." It didn't take her five seconds to reciprocate the feeling.
It's funny how in the midst of so much war and blood and hate, I managed to find the reason for my existence. We planned out our lives together. The wedding, honeymoon, white-picket fence, kids, pets. We had it all figured out. But planning to do something doesn't make it happen.
A year passed. We were nineteen and the war had heated up. All Jag and I could do was hold on and wait for the day it would be over. Jag never got to see that day.
It was the harshest battle we'd been in all year. The reinforcements we'd just brought in were all dead. It was Jag, a couple other teammates, the captain, and I. We had to retreat. Jag and I, with our other teammates close behind, ran towards a friendly Blackhawk that would get us out of there. If only I hadn't noticed, "Jag! The captain! Where?" He wasn't anywhere in my sights. The last time I had seen him was back in a warehouse that was swarming with hostiles.
She opened her eyes wide. I already knew what she was thinking. "No!" I shouted over the heavy fire. "It's too dangerous! I'll go by myself!" She answered with a turn of her heel, and sprinted off in the direction of the warehouse. I had no choice but to follow her.
We ran as quickly as possible to the captain's location. We found him in the warehouse full of hostiles. It didn't take us long to realize he was hurt and unconscious. We crouched down behind the barrel the captain must have been using as cover. Gunshots poured in around us. Grenades rolled by my feet. It was hard to say if we could make it out of there alive. "I'll carry him! You cover me!" She nodded. But there was something on her face I'd never seen before. Fear. She knew the chances we would survive this. She didn't like them.
I grabbed the captain and flung him over my shoulder. Jag furiously pulled the trigger and let hundreds of bullets fly out of her RPD. We ran to the large electronic door of the warehouse. I dashed out with Jag following behind me. Or at least, I thought she was following me. When I looked back a couple seconds later, she had stopped. Her hand was on the green button of the remote for the warehouse door. I figured out what she was doing. "Jag! No! We can make it! Just a little farther!" She smiled.
"We won't! Just go! Get to safety! Don't forget your promise!" She couldn't leave me now. She pressed the button.
"Lucy…" I desperately whispered. The door was closing in on her. Gunshots rang out behind her. She wouldn't last long in there alone.
"I love you, Ghost!" The electronic door covered her face, but not before I saw her smile one last time.
She was gone. My Lucy was gone.
Shepherd pulled the trigger. The bullet collided into my jaw with such pain I couldn't even breathe for a minute. But it wasn't as much pain as seeing Lucy smile that last time. I fell to the ground. The general turned away and gestured for some of his soldiers to get rid of Roach and me. I blacked out.
The captain died immediately. There was no point to Jag's sacrifice. There was no point to war. I was lost. I couldn't concentrate on anything. Life didn't feel like it could go on without her there. I earned my name. I was a Ghost.
All of my hopes, dreams…gone. In one battle. I couldn't even touch a gun. They had to send me home. I didn't go to my home. I went to Lucy's. I had to keep my promise to her.
I knocked on the front door of the Goodwin's house. A middle-aged, red eyed woman opened the door. I told her who I was. I told her that Lucy said she was sorry. Mrs. Goodwin broke out in tears. I turned, about to leave, when I let my curiosity take over. "I'm sorry to intrude, Madam. But…what was Lucy sorry for?" The woman's sobs slowed down.
"Her father…died…" It was difficult for Mrs. Goodwin to talk through the sobs, "in battle…told her…don't go too…I'll be alone…she had to go…she just had to…" The heartbroken lady spun around listlessly and closed the green door behind her. There was a point to war…to Lucy at least.
I had to go back. I had to feel that gun in my hands again. I had to avenge Lucy. I had to prove there was a point to war.
The soldiers helping Shepherd tossed me in a ditch. I rolled next to Roach. We looked into each other's eyes. We were going to die. I watched as the boys threw gasoline on Roach and I. I was in too much pain to do anything. Shepherd stood over us, a cigar in hand. He was talking, but I couldn't focus in on his words. My mind was spinning uncontrollably.
Shepherd flicked the cigar onto Roach. He was immediately encased in flames. Those same flames jumped at me, caught me on fire. It burned. So much for 'staying frosty.'
It was strangely calming seeing the flames above me. I knew Lucy would be waiting for me wherever I went. Shepherd and the other treasonous soldiers turned away. I had the odd feeling they were laughing at Roach and I's mangled and dying bodies. But I couldn't hear them. I couldn't hear anything but the crackling of a fire.
I closed my eyes and breathed in one last time.
Something hard tugged on my arm, pulling me from the ravenous flames. I felt someone patting me down, putting out the fire that was eating at my flesh.
I immediately opened my eyes.
A/N: You see what I mean? Very open ended. Just tell me if you want more. What do you think 'storm' is (in a review maybe)? Is it completely obvious?
Thanks for reading... please review.