Chapter Text
White hot panic sparked electric along his nerves. He sucked in a breath, trying to slow the hammering in his chest. His lungs burned, and he almost choked on it. Price was giving out orders through the reconnected channel, voice crackling around the lingering interference. It was drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears, overlayed with Ghost’s final, garbled call of his name before the line went dead with a soft click.
It replayed in his mind like a personally recorded tape of nightmares.
John felt something come loose in his chest. The sound embedded into him like a meat hook, sinking deep into flesh and pulling. Tearing through muscle, sinew and bone, he felt the stabbing pain of it in his lungs.
As he crouched uselessly behind the lip of the roof that was provided them cover, The building they had been watching was suddenly alight with activity, dark figures swarming up from a concealed metal hatch on the far perimeter. John tracked them through his scope, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of a white skull flashing through the shadows.
Crouched beside him, Gaz swore quietly, speaking urgently into his mic. The sound echoed through his own headset, jumbling the meaning as the words overlapped.
John heard Price’s voice called again for Ghost, steady and authoritative. Only the quiet rasp of his voice betrayed his fear. John clenched his jaw and tightened his grip around his rifle, bracing.
Dead air hissed crackled quietly through the channel, as they all fell silent. John listened as the erratic beat of his heart boomed against his ears drums.
He suffered half a minute before hauling himself out of his crouch.
“Goin’ in, sir” He barked out, already moving.
Gaz whipped his head around, eyes wide with disbelief, reaching to pull him back.
Price cut in before he could say anything. “Like hell you are, Soap.” he said, tone leaving no room for argument.
John made room anyway “Ghost’s down, we’ve got t-”
Price’s voice was firm “Negative, sergeant. We’re not equipped for a direct confrontation, especially not with so many hostiles” He said.
John could feel himself becoming hysterical, still dodging Gaz’s increasingly frustrated attempts to drag him back down behind their sheltered corner of the roof.
“So we’re just goin’ tae leave ‘im?” His voice crackled, fear or anger. The tape in his mind replayed again, and the hook burrowed deeper “Bullshit.”
“Soap. That's enough.” Price said, cutting through his rising panic. “Ghost can handle himself. You need to get to exfil before someone clocks you. We can plan our next move from there. Understood?”
John stood for a moment, working his jaw, before Gaz finally managed to grab him by his harness and yank him back. John’s furious glare was immediately returned tenfold, and he blinked.
“You can’t run in there alone, mate. You can’t fight them all, and he can’t help you. You’re no use to him dead. We need to leave.” Gaz hissed, using his grip on John’s harness to keep him down. John glared harder, muscles tensing further.
“Is that understood, sergeant?” Price said again, stern.
John took a deep breath in. Exhaled. Resisted the urge to scream. “Aye, sir. Understood” he said.
Immediately, Gaz’s hand dropped away, and his glare relaxed into something more neutral.
Gaz sighed, shook his head. “Right. Let’s go” he said.
John spared one final look back to the building, now brimming with dark silhouettes that flitted about behind the illuminated windows. He nodded to himself, once, and turned to follow Gaz. With every step he took, the hook worked its way deeper, tearing his ribs open wide, bearing his still beating heart to the open air.
They descended quickly after that, clearing stairwells with practised efficiency. Once on the ground, Soap kept watch behind as Gaz peered out into the open field that sprawled out from the back of the building.
Gaz hesitated a moment, squinting. The wind howled, and the weakening light of dusk caused the gathering shadows to stretch and grow. He signalled to John a moment later, and they slipped out into the dark.
They made it halfway to exfil without encountering any trouble. With every dark corner turned and every empty building passed, John felt himself grow more and more anxious. He had seen the swarm of bodies around their target, so where had they all gone?
John strained his senses for any signs of movement. The only sounds to be heard were the constant whistling gusts of wind and their own quiet footsteps, and the dark revealed only abandoned buildings and fields. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as a terrible sense of being watched seemed to loom out at him from the empty landscape.
Ahead of him, Gaz looked to be just as on edge, fist clenched tight around his weapon and shoulders tight, although his expression remained calm and steady.
They turn down a gravel path heading through a field of corn, browning stems blocking them in on either side. The wind rattles through the stalks, drowning out the subtle crunch of dead leaves under their feet. John wondered where Ghost was, if he had been taken far.
Gaz paused ahead, “Soap-”
A blur of movement, and a figure erupted from the corn, totally silent, tackling Gaz down to the earth. John shouted in surprise, pulling up his gun, only for something to curl around his ankle and yank his leg out from beneath him.
John hit the ground hard, knocking the wind from his lungs. He lay prone on his back, struggling to take in a breath as he searched wildly for his attacker. His eyes watered and his vision blurred, only barely able to make out the hazy outline of a man rapidly approaching.
He managed one gasping breath before the man was on him. He rolled, just barely evading the blunt edge of whatever heavy weapon had been poised to bash open his skull. The man was not deterred, barely pausing as he stood in one swift moment. He lifted the weapon and spun with the momentum, forcing John on the defensive once more as the heavy edge came hurtling towards him.
John was given a brief moment to catalogue the weapon. Even in the low light, he figured some detail should be visible, but it seemed to blend into the darkness, obscuring its nature, almost melding into the shape of the attacker.
As it spun, the edge of the weapon seemed to change shape, going from the larger, more club-like shape to the thinner, sharper edge of a broadsword. John didn't have much time to contemplate the change beyond a slightly hysterical what the fuck? Before he was jumping back to avoid the edge.
The attacker kept after him, relentlessly advancing and pushing him further into the corn. Through his routine of twisting and dodging, John caught sight of his gun abandoned on the ground where he had dropped it. He kept it in the corner of his eye, waiting for an opportunity to strike. As the man pulled back once more to swing, he dropped down, sweeping his leg out and bringing the man down hard.
John used the momentary victory to dive for the gun. He snatched it up off the ground, before his own feet were pulled out from under him once more. This time though, the thing wrapped around his ankle held on, dragging him backwards. He struggled, managing to flip onto his back, gun held out in front of him.
At that moment, the wind picked up, and the moon seemed to free itself from the clouds, illuminating the clearing and giving John his first good look at his attacker.
The man seemed to be made of pure shadow, faceless and featureless, with shifting darkness swirling around his figure. Where he had seemed to be holding the sword only moments prior, a long whip-like tendril trailed from his hand, now attached around John’s ankle and holding fast.
John only allowed himself to gape for a short moment before firing, once, twice, into what he assumed was the shadow’s head. He held his breath as, for a moment, the shadow froze. John stared into that swirling darkness and felt a frantic sort of hysteria start to build up in his throat, breath coming in stuttering gasps.
A moment later, the shadow collapsed, dropping to the ground like any mortal man. The tendril around his ankle went limp. John wheezed, kicking out and scrambling back to his feet, keeping his eyes wide and fixed on the heap of darkness now unmoving on the gravel.
He stared until his eyes were too dry to stay open, and then some. His chest heaved as he sucked in rattling breaths, propped up on his elbows in the dirt. A sound right next to his ear had him jolting up, raising his gun again, only to find Gaz looking down on him in concern.
“Solid?” He said.
Behind Gaz, the first shadow was similarly unmoving, a stain of dark against the gravel. As John looked, it seemed to deflate, slowly melting into the shadows until it disappeared completely. He whipped his head around to the second shadow, only to find it now gone.
He turned back to Gaz. There was a small trickle of blood dripping down the side of his face from a cut on his temple, but other than that he appeared unharmed. John opened his mouth to confirm, but instead what came out was “What th’fuck?”
Gaz just shook his head, looking mildly ill, and just as unnerved as he felt.
“Come on.” He said, face grim, “We’ll figure it out later.”
He offered his hand, hefting John to his feet, and they continued on with the renewed sense of mounting horror thickening the air around them.
Once at the RV point, it took Price one look at the shell shocked daze that both sergeants carried with them for them to be herded onto the plane with no room for argument.
The ride back to base was silent. John was acutely aware of empty space beside him, cold despite the warmth of the cabin. He stared unseeingly at the floor between his knees, a strange numbness settling through his limbs.
The vibrations ran up along and through his limbs, making his teeth rattle. An ache settled into his skull, throbbing dully in time with the sluggish pumping of blood. He gripped the strap holding him tight across the chest and felt its edges imprint into his skin.
At some point, the roar of the engines cut off, leaving him with a faint ringing in his ears. He’s not sure how long he’d been sitting there, immobile, before a heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder.
Slowly, he looked up to find Gaz standing over him, expression grim. He looked back to his feet.
A complicated emotion was rising in his chest. The numbness of the flight overtaken with a swirl of anger, twisted with the acrid tang of guilt.
The feeling was encouraged by the tension that had lingered ever since their argument days prior, when Gaz had needled at him about Ghost until John snapped and stormed off. He knew it wasn't the intent, but every probing question on his growing infatuation had him coiling like a spring, prepared to shoot off at any moment.
It had brought up a surge of defensiveness. The protectiveness he felt for the longing that trailed behind him like a shadow. He wanted to keep it for himself, hold it close, if or until he was ever given the chance to share it with the source himself. The thought of exposing it to Gaz, even as close as they were, sent an oily, slimy thing writhing in his stomach.
The feeling hadn't improved by the time Gaz caught him, quite literally tackling him to cut off his attempted escape, after the briefing. The apology he offered had calmed his bristling, until Gaz had tried to convince him of the idea that his feelings were “clearly reciprocated” and that he should “just talk to him”. Which had only inspired a wave of panic fuelled agitation that had him growling and snarling like a cornered dog.
After his ill fated attempt at kissing the lieutenant, the idea of trying anything was unbearable. The guilt that had been lurking in the background everytime he entertained even the briefest thought of confessing had roared back full force, bringing with it the nauseating fear that had hit him the moment he felt Ghost pull away.
They hadn’t spoken again since then, hadn’t really had the chance. Not until John was being forced away from the very man at the centre of it all. Forced to leave behind the man who had only just learned to depend on his team. Who had been slowly coaxed and convinced through into trusting that someone would have his back. That John would have his back.
No man fights alone, and yet that was how they had left him. Alone with those strange amorphous shadows that had taken down the Ghost right from under them.
John buried his face in his hands and breathed out a shuddering sigh. The hand on his shoulder was warm, and despite everything, he leaned into the contact. Gaz made a small noise in his throat, and a moment later John was being pulled up and into a firm embrace. Immediately, John's arms came up to wrap around him, and he buried his face into his neck.
They stayed like that for a long time, huddled together. Long enough that John started to feel the exhaustion settling in. Eventually, he pulled back, wiping his face with his sleeve. Gaz blinked hard a few times, and opened his mouth to speak.
John cut him off, words forced out before he could stop them “I kissed him.” Gaz’s eyes went wide, jaw snapping shut. John continued, words falling out of his mouth as he was suddenly desperate to explain, to make him understand. “Before we left for leave– ye were already gone an’ we- we were drinking an’ I jus’-”
He sniffled, shaking his head slightly. “He spooked, dinnae even get the chance to apologise ‘til we go’ back.”
Gaz sighed, long and slow. “I’m sorry.” His voice was scratchy, and he squeezed gently where his hand still rested clasped around John’s shoulder “for all of it”
John shook his head, all lingering anger having drained out through his tear ducts. “Don’t be,'' he rasped “you dinnae do anythin’ wrong. I’m sorry for being such a dobber.”
Gaz patted him gently before finally letting his hand drop. “S’alright, mate. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.” He tilted his head towards the outside “Let’s head in, yeah? Captain’s calling up Laswell for our next move, an’ we should get rested and prepped to head back out once we’ve got our intel.”
John swallowed down the lump in his throat, nodded, and turned step onto the tarmac. Gaz followed him down and into the building, before stopping him a few steps before the halls split off.
“I’ll check in your gear, you go get something to eat. We’ll check in with the Captain after.” he said. John agreed easily, handing over his weapons without a fuss. The bonfire of emotion that had burned bright during the mission and the flight back had died down and left him cold. He felt dazed, disconnected from the world around him.
Gear unloaded onto Gaz, he turned to leave, only for Gaz to call after him. “Hey, `Tav?” When he turned, Gaz’s eyes were soft. “We’ll get ‘im back.” He spoke with sharp conviction, and John desperately wanted to have the same level of confidence.
John held his gaze, and straightened. “Right.” he said “Thanks, Gaz.” Gaz inclined his head, and they turned their separate ways.
30 minutes and a bowl of mystery soup later, John was sitting in Price’s office, Gaz to his left, as the captain paced around his desk. The air was tense, quiet except for Price’s repetitive footfalls. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, hands clenching and relaxing at his sides, until he dropped down heavily into his chair.
“I spoke with Laswell. She’s sent another crew to scout out the area.” he pulled out a cigar from his desk, lighting it and taking a long drag. “There’s clearly something more to this. Gun-runners would have no reason to take a hostage, and from the looks of it, this was a planned operation.”
Gaz cut in “What do you mean ‘Planned’? You’re saying they wanted to catch us?”
Price sighed, blowing out smoke “We’re not sure yet. Laswell’s looking into it. Clearly we were given false information, but we don’t know enough yet to try and guess at their goals”
There was a heavy silence. Price cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. John spoke up, “..And the shadows?” They hadn’t really discussed it beyond the initial debrief, but the topic had been hanging around them, lurking in the dark corners like the shadow men themselves.
Price nodded once. “We’re looking into it. Laswell is finding out all she can but.. “ another sigh “I’m sorry I don’t have more information for you right now.”
Another silence as they all processed. John’s head spun with the uncertainty, the knowledge that they’d lost their lieutenant and had no idea how to get him back. He cleared his throat “So what now? What do we do?’ John said, voice rasping.
“Now? You go back to your bunks, and you get a good night’s sleep. We’ll reconvene tomorrow with Laswell, see what we know, and start planning.” Price said.
John nodded, stood abruptly, and drifted out of the room, dread heavy in his stomach and heart beating in his throat, until he found himself back in his room.
He stood in the dark, unmoving, watching the shadows, for a long, long time