Chapter Text
Three days.
72 hours.
Heavy combat boots stepped silently through the underground halls, various nails and dust coated the unfinished space of the abandoned warehouse. Cold, calculating eyes scanned for any traps or wires that would alert the hostiles of their whereabouts, Ghost’s attention on a swivel as he blocked out the near soundless steps of the local guardsmen following behind him. Seeing no obstacles, Ghost made three quick forward motions with his gloved hand to indicate it was safe to proceed.
The small task force moved as quickly and efficiently as possible while also maintaining a silent pace as they sought out their objective. The unfamiliar soldiers were as capable as they come, but to the 141’s Lieutenant, it meant nothing. The foreign task force felt equally untrustworthy as the hostels were without the backup of his sergeant at his side. The men might be just as likely to turn on him in a moment’s notice…
Ghost brought the thought to a full stop.
Three days.
72 hours.
Three days that Soap has been away from Simon’s side. 72 hours that he did not have eyes on Johnny which was the longest unplanned time they had been apart in years. The absence left a dead star, a gaping black hole in its wake and it threatened to suck Simon into its depth. The uncertainty of his status, the bastards that were responsible for Johnny’s disappearance, all of the factors that had made their last mission go to shit threatened to swallow Simon whole. That’s when Ghost had to step in and create that mental barrier once more.
Ghost affirmed to himself that Soap was a capable and talented operator and that he would fight tooth and nail like the stubborn bastard he was until they made it back to each other, until this forsaken mission was complete and they could get back to their official base. Once he had Soap back under his watch he would make Price get them out of this tiny, bumfuck eastern-european country ASAP, their hospitality be damned.
He could practically hear Soap’s stupid accent in his head now.
Ease up on them, aye L.T? It wasnae their fault the intel was off on the hostiles numbers, that’s happened to our team before.
Ghost ground his teeth as he turned the corner. Sure, the 141 has had bad intel before, but this wasn’t their squad. And their bad intel had never ended with one of their own captured. Price had the team split up to hasten their takedown of the newest high-priority secret operative, so confidential that there were some details being kept between Price and Kate only. Soap was sent with Ghost to narrow down the second in command and alleged muscle of the operation while Price took Gaz with him to intercept a computer virus that would infiltrate most major government systems if not stopped. They were so shot for time that they had no choice but to split up much to Ghost’s chagrin.
I thought you said you work alone?
That stupid voice echoed Ghost’s own words from all those years ago in Almas. After opening up to the idea that his sergeant wasn’t totally useless on the field, it grew to something more like respect and anticipation when they were teamed up for missions until one day it was uncommon to be sent without that Scottish brogue in his comms. Ghost went from tuning out the incessant ramblings to suddenly needing them as much as he needed air in order to focus and accomplish their tasks.
That small nudge would have been fine if it weren’t for the mile Soap took with him when Simon gave him an inch. Over the rest of the years Ghost had grown to feel far more settled when their team was together executing operations like gladiators in the ring than when they were separated to finish missions on their own.
The current company came to a full stop, the underground hall diverting into two paths. Ghost recognized the divide from the map he had memorized and grew more agitated at the recognition. They were over halfway finished investigating the base and they still hadn’t found Soap. Ghost barely withheld his growl as he motioned for their task force to divide and step separately through the fork in their path. They moved quickly, but it still wasn’t fast enough.
Three days.
72 hours.
72 hours and fifteen minutes since Soap was taken and his vest tracker beacon was disabled. So much- too much - could happen in that time. Johnny could have been interrogated, tortured, a combination of the two or worse . What if this extraction mission was for not? What if they were recovering just a body instead? What if-
Enough.
There was no point in spiraling now. There was still a quarter left of the warehouse to secure, and if Soap was alive- which he had to be- they were damn near close. Ghost hardened his resolve and increased his silent pace. Johnny was alive, he knew it. The Scottish bastard didn’t have clearance to die, not yet, not ever .
A barely there metallic clatter pierced through the air, interrupting Simon’s thoughts and he would have practically missed it if it hadn’t been for the Lieutenant's anxiety induced hypervigilance. The sound brought Ghost’s footsteps to a halt, his helmet turning minutely towards the direction it emanated. He refused to get his hopes up, but signed to the couple soldiers behind for cover.
The door was breached and in a frenzy of movements and reflexes honed in by time and repetition, there were two hostiles floored; one with extra bullet holes and one with a knife in the neck as a souvenir from the Lieutenant himself. Ghost instructed two of the men to keep the entrance secure while he and the others investigated the rest of the space.
Three days.
72 hours.
Every second of every minute dragged like molasses until this moment where the world felt like it was flying through a glitching movie, fast forwarding until the climax of the film was about to be missed. Ghost was nothing but a character in it when he turned and saw a limp, shirtless figure hanging from the ceiling by a metal chain that bound the figure’s wrists together. Ghost flew to the lifeless body, not needing to see that stupid haircut to know who it was. He could already tell by the distinct splattered marks of scar tissue, freckles, and birthmarks that made up the skin of Johnny’s back.
In the three broad steps it took Ghost to meet Soap, he had already identified where was the safest bet to grab and lift in order to avoid the existing bruises and move the chains from their hook. While the broken groan of pain that came from his sergeant was concerning, it was music to Ghost’s ears that indicated he was still alive. Johnny’s muscles spasmed under Ghost’s hold once he lowered the wounded man to the ground for a better assessment.
His gloved hands brushed clinically over Soap to identify any urgent injuries that would affect the extraction. Johnny must have been quite out of it since he began to thrash and jolt away now that he wasn’t strung up like a pig. The movements were jerky and uncoordinated and the sight scared Simon back to the surface of Ghost’s periphery.
Simon’s arms locked around Soap to prevent the man from lashing out in self defense and furthering whatever injuries he sustained. “Furasta dhomh.” he hushed the words into Soap’s ear, the Scottish Gaelic words falling choppily off Simon’s tongue. He probably butchered the language, however he recalled the many times Johnny would utter the phrase to soothe wild or domesticated animals when they were on stealth missions and needed to keep cover.
The spasms turned into a fine tremor as Soap slumped backward into Ghost’s chest, a shaky exhale following it. Ghost refused to think much on his quick solution of making Soap relent, why would he after all? It worked. They had spent years together running missions and as much as Soap wouldn’t shut up, it was completely understandable Simon would pick up on a few Gaelic phrases.
Ghost took Johnny’s lack of fight as a sign his sergeant was back online and cued the other men to prepare for extraction. There was no time to waste.
“Ghost…” Johnny’s voice was barely audible, cracked and throaty with obvious lack of water. One of the Scot’s ocean eyes was overshadowed by a nasty bruise as his gaze nervously flitted from Ghost’s hands and back to his face. “I cannae feel my arms.” His expression was a quiet desperation and full of anguish, and Simon burned at the sight of it.
“Sit rep, sergeant. Leg injuries?” Ghost’s voice sounded clinical, but couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Procedure was the only thing keeping his head straight as he placed quick alternating squeezes on the man’s arms to encourage blood flow.
“Nae.” Johnny’s eyes closed in focus, or in pain… and Ghost knew he was running out of time. The last thing he needed was for Soap to go into physical shock from any injuries that he couldn’t see.
“Alright.” was all the warning Ghost gave as he righted Soap up before leaning down to place all 82 kilograms of muscle onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. “We’re moving now.”
In hindsight, Ghost should have handed Soap off to one of the men while he followed through the rest of the mission but the thought of anyone else’s hands on Johnny made him feel like a territorial animal ready to lash out and bite at whoever dared. Unfortunately, it also meant that any shake or flinch Soap had from the travel time ricocheted through Ghost like a boulder in a lake. The sinking feeling of guilt settled relentlessly in his stomach.
The van ride back to base felt outside of time. Johnny did inevitably go into shock mid transit, his skin went from cool to cold, then clammy as his pulse picked up. Ghost tried to keep his sergeant grounded when the field medic attempted getting him to stasis but Johnny fought back thinking she was a hostile.
The rest of the transfer continued to only get worse. The jostling of the vehicle fanned the flame of pain that wracked Johnny until he passed out in Ghost’s arms that were originally there to restrain but since turned into cradling. And there was nothing Ghost could do.
Getting Johnny to the base’s medic all happened in a blur. He loaded the sergeant onto the waiting gurney only to trail them like a bloodhound until he was politely but firmly asked to stay out of the way. As much as Simon wanted to be as close to Johnny as possible, to see the rise and fall of his chest with his own eyes, he knew that the staff was right. He had done everything in his power to help, but now Soap needed medical attention more than Simon needed to soothe his own fears.
So Simon stepped back and let Ghost fully take the reins.
After the fastest and most efficient debrief with the returning soldiers, Ghost sat in the holding room close to where Soap was being evaluated and poured over the notes collected from the extraction. Hours went by as he hand wrote his mission report just waiting for some sort of an update on Johnny’s progress.
Eventually, a younger nurse approached with a clipboard in hand and addressed Simon with his formal title. He was on his feet by the time she had come to a stop, quite prepared to walk and talk back to where Johnny was being held, but her feet stayed planted.
“Sergeant Mactavish is currently stabilized, his major wounds tended to for the time being.” the woman nervously informed, her eyes not quite reaching his.
“Where is he?” Ghost skipped all the pleasantries.
“Still in this ward for monitoring, sir. We need to wait until he is awake to assess any head injuries.” she spoke directly, doing a well enough job hiding her nerves despite Ghost’s looming presence.
The lieutenant nodded, understanding this was a reasonable explanation while also having wished that Soap was miraculously cured and able to tell Simon so himself.
“I’ll wait with him until he wakes up.” Ghost resolved and began scanning the bustling med ward for Soap’s potential location, completely avoiding the stuttering of the nurse.
The nurse attempted to insist on how unnecessary that would be, but she folded quickly under Ghost’s piercing stare. He didn’t mean to scare her, but Ghost didn’t exactly do much to hinder that impression. Three days-72 hours-was long enough to be parted from his sergeant, and now that the man had been evaluated and deemed in the clear, he refused to add a grain of sand to that hourglass.
So that was how Simon found himself sitting uncomfortably in the small plastic guest chair next to Johnny’s silent form, the heart monitor beeping softly into the room which put some of Ghost’s worries at ease. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, taking in the rise and fall of Johnny’s chest or watching the rotation of nurses come in to test his vitals.
Either way it was late into the following afternoon that Soap woke up. Rather violently at that.
Ghost had stepped out for a moment to call Price and report the mission's success, while also requesting an airlift back to base. However, the captain regretfully informed him that they would need to stay put with their foreign allies. Gaz and Price had uncovered a deeper layer to the terrorist hacking group and needed to extend their mission. Simon gritted his teeth in frustration but still wished the old man success before making his way back to Soap’s room.
The sound of Scottish insults and equipment being knocked around hastened Ghost’s steps as he rounded the entrance to see an awake, but clearly disoriented Johnny trying to fight off two male nurses attempting to restrain him. The heart monitor blared relentlessly, adding to the stressful cacophony of the space.
“Get awf me, ye fuckin-”
“Sir, you need to remain calm. We are here to-” an uncoordinated jab from Soap’s elbow cut off the rest of the man’s sentence.
Ghost didn’t waste time stepping forward before any true damage was done to anyone else in the room, Johnny included. Instead of going for his arms that were surely damaged from hanging in the warehouse like a decoration, Ghost placed his gloved hand over Johnny’s chest. The pressure he applied was gentle, but that wasn’t what caught Soap’s attention.
“At ease, Sergeant.” Ghost ordered, his words nowhere close to a yell, but the weight of them grounded Johnny nonetheless. Those wild eyes lost their fervor before matching Ghost’s gaze, the awareness leaking into them as the fight bled out.
“Ghost…” The monitor returned to a slower pace, still far from resting but an improvement otherwise. Johnny swallowed as he finally took a moment to take in where he was and shamefully saw the nurse trying to staunch his bloody nose. His brow creased in what Ghost assumed to be concern, but he distracted the sergeant by encouraging him to lay back into the bed with the press of his hand.
Johnny followed the silent order, ever the good soldier, but remained tense in the reclined position. Just then, a middle aged woman came in with clear direct steps and went for Johnny’s IV with a needle. Before either of them had a chance to react, she emptied the vial into the drip causing Soap to almost immediately groan.
“What the hell was that?” Ghost growled, back to being on the defense with his hackles raised.
“Morphine.” The woman returned, equally unflinching. “High enough dose to sit his ass down as well as manage the pain you’re surely about to feel.” the woman finished as she turned to her unruly patient. Ghost felt Johnny’s chest rise and fall at a much slower pace, not close enough to concern but alarming seeing how the effect was immediate.
She didn’t waste time before grabbing Soap’s chart and writing down some things before beginning to take more vitals. “Is he always like this when he wakes up?” the woman asked, Dr. Jana, the ID card on her chest indicated.
“Not usually.” Ghost revealed, not feeling the desire to divulge more than necessary to a stranger that he hadn’t vetted yet.
“I see. Well outbursts like that cannot happen again.” she spoke directly without frivolity which Ghost appreciated immensely. “The soft tissue tearing on Sergeant MacTavish’s arms and shoulders are concerning but not irreparable, unless he continues to have situations like these.” She looked back at her patient while Soap looked like a poor excuse of a drunk man trying to stay awake, his neck barely supporting his bobbing head.
“How long is his estimated recovery?” Ghost regarded her and for the first time she seemed to do the same to him, her eyes scanning for identification but finding none other than his rank on Ghost’s chest.
“With patient confidentiality I am only authorized to deliver that information to Sergeant MacTavish and his captain.” her accented lilt read in monotone as if reciting written procedure.
“Or whichever presiding commanding officer is present.” Ghost finished the protocol’s wording, recalling the paragraph she was referencing. “Captain Price is on a mission, I am his lieutenant.” he finished.
Surprisingly, Simon didn’t flinch when he felt pressure on his hand. Glancing down, he saw Johnny’s bandaged fingertips gently brushing his, resting just above his sergeant’s heart. Simon hadn’t realized he never removed his grasp and seeing how Soap was docile as a kitten now it was safe to let him go. He didn’t.
Dr. Jana sized Ghost up before glancing at Soap to take in the display. Simon didn’t appreciate the added attention and realized the unnecessary restrainment probably didn’t reflect well on his status as a C.O. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away and crossed his arms to fully face the doctor, Johnny’s arm slipping down to his side in his weakened state.
She took a moment to regard him before shaking her head one last time and consulting her clipboard, seemingly making up her mind. “Bruised ribs, abrasions to the hands, but Sergeant MacTavish’s arms have sustained some impressive injuries.” She finished her grocery list of wounds that Ghost is effectively responsible for. Each description was a puncture to his conscience, but it was a punishment he well deserved.
Dr. Jana glanced briefly behind herself before shifting her back fully to Soap to address Ghost.
“He needs rest. A lot of it.” she informed, leaning in to speak directly to Ghost rather than the two of them. “As well as PT to gain back full range of motion. I’ll need to keep him for continued observation for at least the next week.”
Her conclusion brought out a broken sound from the man behind them, Johnny’s throat catching nervously at what he overheard while his eyes scanned between the two. It was a shock that he had even managed to stay awake to be honest. The display of defenselessness broke something even further in Simon especially knowing how much Johnny hated hospitals.
On one hand, doctor’s orders were just that, meant for Johnny’s best success but on another Ghost couldn’t fathom forcing him to stay in a foreign medical facility when he already had issues with authority. The entire mix was an unsavory pit in Simon’s gut, especially since it was his fault that he couldn’t find the Scot sooner.
All indecision evaporated immediately with one glance back to a very drugged and silent looking Johnny, his heavy lidded gaze filled with desperation. Many times Ghost and Soap had exchanged full conversations with one look alone, that’s what made their accomplishments in missions so seamless and successful. It was almost as if they could read one another’s minds.
And Ghost knew exactly what Johnny was saying now.
Please… please don’t leave me here. Alone.
The gravity of what Johnny was asking for was a weight on Simon’s shoulders and it brought front and center what Ghost was willing to do. He wasn’t just considering bending the rules, he would be completely breaking them. The promise he made to himself to never let someone get close again, the written protocol for Soap’s health and safety being challenged, all because the man had given Ghost the most desperate look.
He couldn’t leave Soap here, not after he worked so hard to get the man back.
Ghost didn’t want to admit how quickly he’d made up his mind. It wasn’t worth the time of even trying to understand.
“Go to sleep, Johnny.” Ghost looked over the doctor’s shoulder to address his sergeant, hopefully putting his fears at ease. Johnny despite the lethargy of medicine managed to shake his head, despite his eyes drifting closed. “I’ll fill you in at 06:00.” he finished, knowing that inevitably Johnny wouldn’t actually be awake, but just wanted to get the man to stop fighting the drug induced lethargy.
Ghost watched the man settle, his eyes still refusing to close until Simon gave in and offered the solace Johnny was looking for. “I’m not going anywhere.”
That did the trick it seemed, and the sergeant was out like a light, the stresses of the day finally taking hold. As Johnny’s breathing slowed, his body sagging into the bed like a ragdoll, Simon stayed right there, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. It wasn’t just a promise to Soap—it was a promise to himself. No matter how much the world around him spun out of control, he’d be there, even if it meant sacrificing everything to hold the pieces together.
The honesty of his thoughts would scare him if his resolve weren’t so firm and immovable.
Ghost didn’t rush to make eye contact with the doctor again, not exactly craving her scrutiny of the situation. All that she needed to know was that she could trust Johnny’s care under Simon’s watch.
The doctor’s brow was already raised by the time he eventually brought his attention to her, obviously awaiting an explanation. Ghost silently stared back, needing a moment to center himself before confronting a plan.
Dr. Jana’s eyes narrowed as she looked between the soldiers before her. “You cannot just walk in here and—”
“He’s not staying.” to his own shock, Ghost did not plan the words that tumbled out of his mouth, but it was too late to stop them now. “I’m taking him with me.”
Her lips parted, a protest unmistakably forming before Ghost cut off the chance.
“He will not heal here.” Simon offered the explanation alongside a glance to the nurse still applying pressure to his nose. “As I’m sure your staff would agree.” he added for good measure.
Dr. Jana regarded the wounded nurse before taking a moment to fully consider Ghost’s offer, which more or less came out like a demand. A moment carried on like molasses before she spoke once more.
“You’ll be held responsible for his well being.” her stare was as piercing as a sniper’s scope, her sincerity was heavy in its truth. Ghost couldn’t disagree with the doctor, but knew that this was the only way Johnny would make it through his current injuries. In that, his resolve strengthened.
“I’ll take my chances.”
Her jaw clenched until finally giving a decisive nod and informed Simon that there were conditions for John’s early release.
Firstly, it would be on record that she advised MacTavish to stay in the med bay. Next, that Ghost follows a strict regimen of heat and ice packs alongside medicine around the clock to encourage Johnny’s healing as fast as possible. Finally, daily physical therapy once Johnny was cleared for it. All of these stipulations would be void of course in the case that Johnny was concussed.
Ghost felt like he may as well have signed his soul away for the trouble, but found that he didn’t mind the extra hassle when he imagined how much more at ease his sergeant would be outside of a hospital bed.
Once he came to an understanding with Dr. Jana and the staff filed out of the small room, Simon didn’t care if he didn’t know what he was signing up for. Whatever the price, it was the least he could do after whatever Soap had been through.
Simon lingered by the bed for a moment longer, staring at Soap’s still form. He could feel the weight of the past three days pressing on his chest, squeezing the breath out of him. But as Johnny’s fingers shifted slightly, brushing against his, Simon realized that the quiet of the room was no longer just silence—it was a kind of understanding. Johnny was still here. And Simon, for all his stoic resolve, would do whatever it took to keep it that way.