Chapter Text
Ghost creeps steadily through the streets of Las Almas, quieter than the night itself. He palms one of his knives, taking down a Shadow between one heartbeat and the next. With every drop of blood he spills the anger mounts higher and higher.
Questions without answers flood him.
Who’s giving the orders? If Graves is to be believed, it’s still Shepard, but how much can he trust the word of a man who runs his own group of mercenaries? They might be government sanctioned, but they still play by their own rules.
The other option is that Graves is going on his own, playing on Shepard’s name with no real guidance from the man. If so, then what’s he getting out of it? Does he think by taking down Hassan his betrayal will wash away? Maybe, but even if Laswell and Shepard give him the green to come back, he won’t live another day past that. Bastard took a shot at him, and his lackeys took a shot at Soap.
Soap.
For a second he stops thinking about his situation and focuses on Johnny. He doesn’t know where he wound up, too busy avoiding bullets and getting the fuck out of there to keep an eye on him. Besides, Johnny’s a big boy, and part of their agreement when they started seeing each other was to not let it affect how they acted in the field.
They’ll meet up later, Soap’s been trained on what to do in this exact scenario. Ghost just needs to get somewhere relatively safe and then establish radio contact. If he lets himself think too long he’ll get distracted, and distractions will get him killed.
Ahead of him, there’s commotion.
Four Shadows are detaining a man. One has his rifle pressed up against the man’s back, one more stands behind, his attention on the street opposite of them, and the other two are in the process of moving away- likely to get a vehicle for transport.
He takes a better look at their prisoner and recognizes Alejandro. It’s a bad situation for an ally to be in and he moves quickly, killing the two mercenaries furthest from the group with twin shots from his pistol. When the bodies start dropping Alejandro freezes, smart enough to pick up on the fact that he isn’t a target. From there the man holding a rifle against Alejandro’s spine gets the best bullet, and Ghost watches as the newly freed officer takes the opportunity to go on the offensive, taking down the last Shadow with the dropped weapon.
“Ghost, that you?”
Stepping out of the cover of darkness, he nods. “Yeah, are there any more of them around?” The rifle Alejandro used wasn’t silenced and he needs to be prepared if there will be more drawn by the noise.
“No, hermano, the rest pushed further into the city with Graves.”
Good, gives them time to find the rest of his team, to regroup, and plan their next move.
He turns away from Alejandro to pocket a few spare magazines from the dead bodies. “Give me a few minutes to set up a radio feed. We’ll contact Soap and Rudy, and then exfil the fuck out of here.”
“Small issue with that.”
There’s always an issue, but he’s good at rolling with the punches. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
“Ghost,” and his tone is off, wrong, it makes his stomach twist into a knot without his permission. “They took Soap.“
Ghost stops gathering supplies, fingers frozen where they’ve closed around a zippered pouch. He stands slowly, turning to Alejandro, voice low and carefully measured to hide his emotion, “what do you mean ‘they took him’?”
“On the road, one of the Shadows got to him. I saw them put him in one of the trucks.”
Ghost’s hands tighten into fists, teeth clenching, as he growls out his response. “You saw them take him, and did nothing ?”
“What was I supposed to do?”
Only the genuine desperation in Alejandro’s voice keeps Ghost from snapping at the man. That, and the sound of running he can hear just down the alleyway.
“I heard the shots over here, get me coverage on all angles!”
Not sparing a moment to check in with Alejandro, Ghost moves, disappearing back into the darkness. If his companion is smart he’ll follow. Luckily, he is, and the two move together, outsmarting the men trying to surround them.
At one point, a Shadow makes the mistake of separating from the group.
It should be a quick kill, a knife to the throat or two shots, one to the body and the other to the head. Instead, Ghost draws it out. His hand covers the man’s mouth, keeping him silent, as the Lieutenant's blade enters his side. The blood is warm even through the glove on his hand and Ghost revels in it, twisting the knife as the Shadow struggles. His whimpered pains only fuel the fire inside of him.
With a swift kick to the back of the man’s leg, the Shadow drops to his knees, gasping for air but unable to get any as Ghost’s arm closes over his throat. Slowly, painfully, he drags out the kill, finding a sick kind of joy in feeling the man’s life slip away.
It doesn’t make him feel better about losing Soap, however.
Doubt creeps through him.
He should have stayed on the road longer. The Shadows don’t stand a chance at catching him, so he could have waited another moment. He should have waited another moment. Made sure that Soap got away.
He should have trusted his gut instincts when they pulled up to Graves. The feeling of wrong had shuddered through him but he pushed it down. Now, because he didn’t trust himself, that fucking bastard has Johnny.
Who knows what they’ll do to him, or how long they’ll even bother to keep him alive. Soap’s 141 through and through but he’s not the one with the secrets, with the plans. At most they’ll use him as leverage, and if that fails they’ll kill him.
If he dies, the whole world is going to burn, and Ghost will stand and watch while holding the matches.
The next Shadow he sees dies as painfully as the first. Blood stains the cobblestone streets below, and all Ghost can see is red, red, red . Fury and anger and regret rips through him, fueling the violence that pulses off of him in waves. Every second that passes with him still stuck in this city, on the run and unable to start tracking down Soap and pulling him out of the Shadow's hands, leaves Ghost grasping for a release from the anger.
Alejandro makes no comment about his change in tactics, or his shift in behavior. Merely follows behind the path of destruction Ghost is carving towards their freedom.
By the time they make it out of the city, Ghost's knife is dull, worn down by Shadow’s throats, and they have a plan.
They’ll hit Alejandro’s safehouse, get their supplies restocked, and then they’re going for Graves. Wherever he is, is where Johnny will be.
The sun is high in the sky when they arrive and Alejandro directs him to a side window and away from the primed pressure plate that sits outside the front door. Soap would love that, Ghost notes, his obsession with explosives isn’t new to anyone, certainly not the Lieutenant. He ticks the information away for later, because there will be a later. They’re gonna make damn sure of it.
Rudy’s inside waiting for them, and when his eyes land on Alejandro there’s zero hesitation as the two rush each other, throwing their arms around one another in a type of hug Ghost recognizes all too well.
It’s somewhere between thank god you’re alive and don’t you ever put me through that again . It’s not necessarily intimate. He’s seen Price and a fair share of other leaders hold their teammates like that before, relieved that someone under their command is okay. And the other person usually returns with gusto, just happy to be living another day.
No one would dare touch him like that, no one but the one person he couldn’t keep safe.
The reunion between the two Mexican Police officers has something that feels a lot like jealousy cracking through Ghost. That should be him and Soap.
He grits his teeth against the wave of desperation that thought brings him, now is not the time.
A few seconds later, it’s like they’ve both remembered he’s there, and Rodolfo smiles at him. “Ghost, good to see you alive.”
“Alive and ready to move. What’s the plan?”
Rudy’s face reflects confusion. “Aren’t we missing one? Where is Soap?”
“In Shadow custody.”
To his credit, the man’s face instantly morphs into one of anger. “Those pendejos took him? Fuck, what are we waiting for?”
For not the first time Ghost is both shocked and impressed with Soap’s ability to make friends wherever they go. He’s never had the locals, or even other members of teams he’s worked on, actually care what happens to him. Yes they’d be mad if he died or was taken, but it was always a reflection of his position on the team, never true concern for him as a person. Only a select few being the exception.
Johnny though? Without even trying he charms his way into people’s hearts. He carves out a little space there, making anyone who meets him fall a little bit in love.
He recalls the first time he really met the Sergeant. Every other new member of any team he’d ever been on since he became Ghost, and really even before that, has met him with a look of awe, respect, and usually a little terror. He knows the mask makes him larger than life to the new guys and girls, this unknown figure with a kill count higher than a shitty Michael Bay action movie. It’s what he’s grown to expect.
There was a bit of that in John MacTavish’s eyes, too, but above it all there was something else, something that told Ghost that while he respected the man standing in front of him, he felt confident and ready for anything they could throw at him. While the other three he roled in with stood with wide eyes and trembling with terror, MacTavish had almost looked amused.
His eyes were shining and bright, and before Ghost could even fully ask them what their hand-to-hand looked like, the Sergeant was already replying, accent thick.
“Why don’t I give you a demonstration right now, Sir?”
Price steps in then, already laughing. “Why don’t we let one of the new guys go first, Soap?”
MacTavish rolls his eyes, but not in a disrespectful way, and Ghost suddenly puts a face to the name in a good portion of Captain Price’s stories. Tries to fit the man in front of him with the description he was given.
“Soap is a hell of a Soldier and a hell of a friend. People underestimate him because he’ll greet them with a smile. But put a gun or a grenade in his hands and you’ll never have to watch your own back. It’ll be good to have him on my team again, but he’ll be yours to command, Simon.”
The confidence makes sense now, this introduction and training is merely a formality for MacTavish.
When they do finally get to spar together, Ghost experiences that competence first hand. He still put the man flat on his back, could kill him in ten different ways in five seconds or less, but the fight was fair. Almost evenly matched. He’s already filing away information and delegating tasks before Soap’s even realized he’s lost.
When he finally stops struggling against the hold that Ghost has on him, he meets the Lieutenant’s gaze and smiles. It’s bright and honest and a little voice in the back of his head says it’s a nice smile before rational thinking comes back to him.
“Well, Lt., if you wanted me on my back all you had to do was ask.”
“I think we both know if I wanted you on your back, Johnny, I wouldn’t have to ask.”
He doesn’t know why he plays into it instead of shutting it down, probably because he’s not used to blatant flirting. People don’t do that to him, and if they gossip behind his back they certainly don’t repeat it to his face. So maybe he’s just caught a little off guard by the openness he can hear.
Ghost’s expecting more banter in return, but instead Soap freezes, pupils expanding out and a nice red flush curling across his cheeks. He unthaws quickly, hands boldly going to Ghost’s hips. To an outsider it would look like he was just supporting his supervisor as they discussed their next sparing plan, but he knows it’s not that, and Soap does, too.
“Johnny, huh?” The Scotsman smirks at him. “I think I like the way you say my name.”
“Don’t get used to it, Sergeant.” Was all he had replied before climbing off of Soap’s lap and returning to his side of the mat. “Now let’s see you stop it from happening.”
Soap’s off the ground already, bouncing a bit on his toes with restless energy. “Now, Sir, why would I want to do that?”
That’s the moment Ghost should have known he was fucked when it came to this man, should have thrown up a wall and stopped Soap from getting inside his soul. But you can’t keep an explosives expert out, not with a wall at least, they’ll just blow it up.
Rodolfo shoving a map his direction pulls him from the memory, from the nostalgia, and Ghost bites the inside of his cheek to snap himself back to the present and ground himself in reality.
“We’ll make a distraction, pull the guards away from the cells. Ghost, you’ll go in and get Soap, freeing the other Vaqueros in the process. After that we’ll fight our way out.”
“When do we leave?”
“As soon as we’ve got the cover of darkness.”
Ghost looks at the time, nearly noon. They’ve got a good six hours to rest before they gear up and head out. It’s too long, there’s a lot you can do to a man in six hours, but the sun will expose them and he can’t rescue Soap if he's in a cell himself.
Almost like he’s reading his mind, Rodolfo offers him a soft look. “We’ll get him back, my friend. But we should take the time to rest and recharge. You’ll need your energy.” Rudy knows about him and Soap, caught them in an intimate moment that couldn’t be explained away, but Soap had expressed his trust and with a few choice words the man swore himself to secrecy.
It’s almost nice to have someone know what’s on the line, having that motivation will make them all fight harder.
“We’ll split the shifts,” Ghost agrees. “I’ll take the first watch.”
He doesn’t wait for their responses, just moves to the loft where Rudy had been hiding when they came in. It’s the best position for guarding this place and he sets up his rifle with ease. It’s a long couple of hours while he waits for his relief, but he’s been a sniper for years, knows how to let his mind go blank so time passes almost without him noticing.
Soon enough Rudy is ushering him away from his post, directly him to the now empty cot. They don’t speak about Soap, but an understanding passes through them. A shared concern for their missing man.
“It’s been quiet,” he reports, “but keep an eye out.”
“I will, try and rest, we’ll need the Ghost to get this done.”
Hours later he wakes, body staying loose in an imitation of sleep, but mind wide awake as it processes what disturbed him.
It’s Alejandro’s voice that woke him. He’s not being loud, but his sleeping mind registered the cadence of another person and must have thought there was a danger. Ghost plans to ignore it, he must be talking to Rodolfo, maybe it’s their shift swap, but then he hears his name and something about the way it’s said draws his full attention.
“-do you mean?” Rodolfo is easier to hear than Alejandro, he’s facing Ghost so his voice projects better. Simon’s ears strain to pick up the low conversation.
“You should have seen him out there. Mierda, he was like a man possessed.” Alejandro is telling Rudy about their fight out of Las Almas, concern in his voice as he described Ghost’s actions.
“This was after you told him about Soap?”
“Sí, before then he was like always: calculated and calm but after he was like a storm.”
“What else would you expect from a man like Ghost when someone he loves is in danger?”
There’s a moment of silence between the two and Ghost fights the urge to snap up and interrupt the conversation. He was doing so well keeping their secrets, why betray it now?
“Vaya, what are you talking about?”
Rodolfo’s voice goes quieter, almost like he suddenly remembers Ghost is only a few feet away. “After we escaped from the Army, I went looking for Soap. To talk to him. I found them… together.”
“And Ghost didn’t kill you on the spot?”
No, he didn’t, and now he’s regretting that. Should never have let Johnny talk him out of it.
“I think only my friendship with Soap saved my life.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Ghost threatened to make my insides my outsides if I told anyone.” His voice goes scared. “I’ll see that man in my nightmares for weeks.”
Good, and one day it won’t be a dream.
“So why tell me now?”
“Because for now he needs me alive to save Soap, and after that I’ll have the Scotsman around to fight for my life again.”
Damn him for being right, he does need their help right now and if he kills Rodolfo then Alejandro won’t help him. Ghost’s good, real good, but he’s not ‘assault a well fortified prison alone’ good. And once he’s got Johnny back the other man won’t let him do anything, too kind for his own good sometimes.
“You are a brave man, Rudy.”
“All I’m saying, Alejandro, is that I wouldn’t want to be in between Ghost and Soap right now.”
“What do you think will happen if Soap doesn’t make it?”
Another round of silence rings out in the barn, the weight of that question echoing in the emptiness. Finally, Rodolfo says something that twists Simon’s gut, a reflection of his earlier thoughts. “Probably tear the whole world apart with his bare hands and burn the ashes.”