Chapter Text
“MacTavish!” a stern voice sounds in the narrow corridor of the medical unit.
“Captain,” Soap immediately got up from the bench and stood in front of the Captain. “Is Lt. alright?”
Price frowned and gestured to him to go further away from the medical unit. They started walking when Price finally spoke.
“He’s fine, sleeping actually. Doctor said you made it easier for them since the wound was properly immobilized. Good job, Soap,” Price said slowly stroking his beard. The moment Soap wanted to answer he continued. “The thing is…Ghost will be on medical leave for 3 weeks now, but they’ll release him 5 days after he wakes up and he’ll be excused from duty”
“Shit…” Soap quickly understood the meaning of his words. Ghost was shot in the stomach. He will be released in 5 days and he can’t stay on base. He will go to his apartment in Manchester to recover. He won’t be able to take care of himself, at least someone will have to help him get out of bed in the mornings. The problem is Ghost didn’t have anyone. While fellow soldiers loved to tell about their lives outside of the military, always keeping in touch with their dearest people, Ghost never mentioned a lonely wife, caring sister, or even a friend outside the base. Soap’s heart sank, he felt deeply sorry for Simon.
“It is, are you injured?” Price asked and without even waiting for his answer continued. “Good, because you’re leaving with him. I’ve already signed the papers. Once Ghost is discharged the same day the driver will take you to the railway station. You saved him, now rest, son,” Price patted him on the shoulder and left.
Soap was left standing there uncertain how on earth he managed to sign himself up for this shitshow. It’s when he started shaking. Simon is alive. Soap saved him, they will spend 3 weeks together, just them. He could finally exhale, but only a quiet sob came out of his throat.
He was scared, so fucking terrified when Simon got shot. The mission was already completed when Ghost just suddenly fell on his back with a painful groan. All John could think about in that split second was “No, I can’t lose him”, so he pulled himself together. Without a word, Soap figured out the sniper’s location and blew that fucker’s head off.Without further emotion, he notified Price and the pilot of the lieutenant’s condition and requested a stretcher. Without further ado, he turned to Simon, dragged him to safety, and began to provide first aid. John wasn’t listening to what Ghost was trying to say, there was only blood he paid attention to, so much blood. He forbade himself to think, so he could act as efficiently as possible, enforcing all his knowledge, and not for a second to doubt that Simon won’t survive. No second thoughts.
From the first aid to the present moment, for John it all was blurry, to move Simon into the helo, take off, try not to look at Ghost’s open face, land, report to Price, don’t start hyperventilating in the shower, change, go back to the medical wing, wait, convince yourself that Ghost is alive, don’t start hyperventilating on the bench, convince yourself that his reaction to Simon’s condition is not serious and unworthy of a real soldier, begin to remember patriotic speeches in the army, everyone should be proud dying for their homeland, imagine what it’s like to date Ghost, try to explain to yourself that for such thoughts the only date he will receive will be the date of his unhonourable discharge.
After a while, Price came, pulling him out of thoughts about what kind of tattoo he should get after imprisonment. Should it be “mom” on his left arm or a cross on the chest? It doesn't matter now. Still uncertain about the recent news, John went back to his small room and immediately started writing down anxious thoughts in journal. Always focused on missions or drills, at free time his thoughts would start racing from one topic to another, not always connected with each other, which also affected his speech. And yet, all John could think of right now is this amazing man in the medical wing.
The day was finally over.
—————
The sharp pain in his stomach beat the air out of his lungs. Simon seemed to make a sound when he fell. The blue pair of eyes rushed at him. Johnny.
Simon’s ears were jammed, he heard nothing but his throbbing heart. For now, a throbbing heart. And even though in that moment, his mind and body were in a complete chaos, he clearly understood that Johnny was kneeling next to him. It did not matter what he did. Whether he tried to save him or just silently sat there until…oh, well. Simon was dying. He finally understood what this was all about. It didn’t matter as well. John would be the last person he saw, Simon felt grateful for it. To his inflamed brain it seemed as though the sergeant was sitting too far away from him, not close enough. Simon always wanted to be closer, in every sense.
It’s a shame John hadn’t thought to kiss you on the forehead, eh?
Simon is lying awake. He replayed that situation many times and realized that his inner voice was right. He is indeed sorry Johnny hadn’t kissed him on the forehead, even though that’s how you say goodbye to dead people. He’s willing to die for that.
There’s a knock on the door. Price came in without waiting for an answer. He’s holding some papers.
“Ghost.” He nodes, goes deeper into the room and stops in front of the bed.
“Boo.” Simon deadpans without interrupting eye contact.
“I’m glad your sense of humor hasn’t flowed out along with a shit ton of your blood, according to the doctor, of course.” Price shakes his head a little bit, as if to show how much he has been “offended” by the disrespect from Ghost. The man in turn frowns and straightens up trying to sit down. A sharp pain surges throughout his torso. Okay, he can’t handle that yet. Simon accepts the urge for tactical retreat and falls back on the bed.
“As you were, we don’t want the stitches to open and extend your medical leave, 3 weeks actually.” Price looks at the papers in his hands.
“Roger.” Three weeks are manageable. All he has to do is recover and not go mad with loneliness.
Do your best, Riley!
Right, don’t go mad with loneliness and his mean, self-hatred inner voice.
“MacTavish is on leave too.” Price was still looking at his papers and refused to look him in the eyes.
“He’s not injured.”
“Here, look at this.” Price finally handed him one of the two sheets, which turned out to be a medical leave request form. Signed by the Captain, three-week medical leave for Sergeant John MacTavish.
“The hell is this? He is not injured.” Something was off. He clearly remembered that Johnny had not been injured! Or Simon has been already losing his mind and had forgotten such significant information or Soap had hidden his injuries from him.
Ohhhh, Riley, rookie mistake! You must trust your sergeant, there are no healthy relationships without trust.
“He’s not. He’s coming with you to help.” Price speaks calmly as if he isn’t talking about impossible and clearly illegal things within the military.
“I can stay here.”
“You can’t. It’s full. No extra.”
“I can stay on base.”
“You can’t. Doctor’s note requires you to have a rest. A proper rest not on base.”
“Price, what the fuck?” He’s starting to panic. There’s no way Price is serious. “You can’t just send me and Soap on leave together. It’s against the rules. And he’s not even injured you’re falsify—”
“Lieutenant Riley! I'm your Captain, you must respect me and my decisions. I’ve already done that and moreover told MacTavish, he comes with you once you’re discharged. I don’t want to hear any arguments, is that clear?”
Price exaggerated a bit. He hasn’t told Soap yet and the infirmary has enough beds for patients. Price was sick of this tension between them, which seemed to increase every day. Everyone on base knew Lieutenant Riley is close with Sergeant MacTavish but Price and Gaz definitely understood that those two had a little thing for each other. The way they look at each other… Eyes don’t lie. Price has already made up his mind.
He just thought being injured and tired Simon wouldn’t fight so hard, well, he was wrong. Simon is injured and tired and is still a stubborn bastard.
“Bloody hell, Price. Pulled the strings, made the doctor write MacTavish a fake leave. And for what? So I can have a babysitter?”
“Simon.” Price sighs, he’s had enough of this senseless argument. “It’s been almost 6 years but you’ve only started to come back to life last year and I know that it’s not ‘time heals’ type shit. Your case is indescribably special and I’m not that old so I don’t understand why you’re changing for the better at this rate. Trust me, Ghost, as a friend, you’re not that hard to read. I’m just doing you a favor.”
“No, you’re just delusional.”
“I trust you. You know how to keep it professional at work, the rest is none of my business. It’s time for you to settle this and finally be happy, Simon, because then it might be too late.”
Simon said nothing.
“Goodnight.” Was the last thing the Captain said before closing the door behind him.