Chapter Text
—//John MacTavish\\—
"You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, Simon Riley."
He tried to hide the smile that crept on his lips by taking another sip of whisky. But instead of Ghost‘s eyes morphing in question or surprise - The others eyes narrowed and his shoulders squared.
"Where did you get that name?!" He growled and leapt out of his chair, lunging at John.
Sharp pain erupted from Soap's chin as Ghost's fist collided with it.
"Where?!"
John stumbled backwards, narrowly dodging the next blow. A gloved fist crashing into the wall behind him. He could’ve sworn that a few pieces of it crumbled to the floor.
He had no time to worry about the wall though, because just a moment later he curled in on himself dry heaving as the pain, of Ghost's knee being rammed into his stomach, spread.
"Who told you?!"
The words were spit with venom Soap recognised, bloodlust and blind hatred radiated off of Ghost. John tried to speak, but both the pain and the confusion on where he had gone this wrong caused, the words to come out a gargled mess.
Ghost was trying to pin him down, leaning over him, trying to render him motionless. His forearm pressed against John's neck, the others legs weighing down his own down.
They struggled on the cold tiles, finally Soap barely managed to grab hold of the other man. He flipped them, twisting Ghost's arm behind his back, the knight grunted in pain.
"Did Roba send you?!"
The man under him thrashed cranking his neck to glare at John. Blood was dripping down his chin, onto the others mask.
John coughed, shaking his head, trying to convey his confusion nonverbally.
"Who?"
Was all Soap could utter before Ghost managed to kick out his knee from under him, twisting it sharply.
"Fuck you! Bastard! Fuck!"
He let go of his warden, inching away, trying to get some space between them.
Ghost was faster.
"Who told you?!"
Soap felt the cold steel against his throat before he saw it. The next moment, a burning sensation spread from where the blade cut into his skin. He didn’t move.
Both men were catching their breath, a few tense seconds passed, neither of them spoke again. Gazes flickering along the others features, observing.
The Knights hands were trembling slightly, John noticed. He was flinching every-time thunder crashed outside, a storm was picking up. His eyes, darting nervously from side to side, Ghost looked…
The next time thunder rumbled over the hills, Soap seized the opportunity. He pushed the others arm away and flipped them around again, grabbing and pinning the larger man’s hand above his head.
"Piss off!" Ghost spit, body convulsing.
He slammed Ghost‘s wrist against the floor harshly, knife clattering onto the stone tile.
"I don’t know who the fuck this Roba is you’re talking about!"
Ghost was still struggling against the Prince‘s weight, tying to get to his knife.
"Then where did you get my bloody name, huh?" He tried to headbutt the scot.
"Nowhere focking hell, I‘m sorry okay?"
He stammered, wiping some blood from his chin.
He could see the other man scowling under the mask, fabric creasing where his eyebrows would be.
"You‘re sorry?"
John met the others eyes- hoping to come across as sincere - Ghost‘s pupils were blown wide, still flinching with every crash outside. A look of raw fear flickering in his features.
What had he done?
"Yes. Please, let me explain?"
Ghost nodded slightly, motioning for him to continue.
He slowly let go of the knight, hoping they could talk now. Instead Ghost pushed the Prince off and bolted out the door.
The second Ghost left, Soap stumbled to follow him. Hastily grabbing the knife and cursing his knee as it gave way when he stood.
He had seen Ghost and Price together outside and remembered the young man Price had told him about…
'got a new scar, the lad I took in went on a bit of a…rampage'
'Simon, his name; he’s a good lad, quiet, but he cares.'
'promoted Riley, he’s still quiet, think you could do eachother some good…miss having you here Sunshine.'
Ghost had intrigued him, even before that. Earlier, when they had worked so…perfectly together, it felt easy.
Easier than things have been in a long time.
And when they joked around, when Ghost mocked his art, it actually felt good to be treated like himself again and not like a crown was permanently attached to his head.
At that moment he thought…maybe he could show Ghost that he wasn’t blind to the things…the people around him. Show him who Prince MacTavish was before…everything.
He should’ve kept his mouth shut, Soap cursed himself. They barely knew eachother for a Day, why should he react positively to that?
Outside heavy rain continued to flood the gravel paths, thrashing and churning the pebbles, a bone chilling rumble.
He could barely hear himself as he called out "Ghost!"
Soap could see the tall figure in front of him flinching. After some struggle, he caught up to the shadow, shouting.
"Price mentioned you!" he coughed "Price mentioned you in his letters!"
John reached out, blindly grabbing onto the others arm, he jerked away violently.
"Can we please go back inside?"
He didn’t reach out again.
Ghost turned his head slowly, studying him for a long moment. John could see the back and forth behind his eyes.
"Please." he pleaded again, taking out the knife Ghost had left behind from his boot.
He didn’t miss the way Ghost flinched, reaching for his belt. Soap raised his hand slowly, hilt outstretched he offered the knife to Ghost.
Simon took it cautiously.
—//Simon Riley\\—
The prince smiled timidly, nodded and turned away, walking back towards the castle.
Ghost hesitated, the knife in his hand grounded him. Nonetheless, he was shivering, but not only from the cold this time.
His head was spinning. He still didn’t quite understand what happened just now, his body had acted on instincts only.
Hearing his name from someone other than his captain, brought back memories he had long tried to bury.
Ghost wasn’t quite sure what it was, it felt like betrayal, at first. Like his past, ugly and dangerous.
He had fought like it was, his knuckles were still throbbing painfully as he kneaded them.
His still panic-strickened mind was telling him to get away from the Prince and the trouble that surrounded him. To grab his bag and leave behind yet another town he could never feel safe in again.
But Simon‘s heart felt heavy at the thought of it.
What Price had told him about John calmed him enough to take a deep breath…the way he spoke of the Prince, his Captains trust wasn’t given freely, his admiration even less so…
He thought of the moments before. He felt surprisingly comfortable with the Prince after he returned from his walk with Price. Felt that way even before he met with his Captain if he was being honest.
That uncomfortable feeling of safety John MacTavish caused within him.
It had been a long time since someone looked at him the way John had looked at him.
In the Throne-room earlier and even just a moment ago; blood dripping from his chin and the small cut on his throat, limping slightly, all of it caused by none other than Ghost himself, yet there was no contempt in his eyes.
Just regret.
Ghost followed, because he trusted his Captain and maybe because he wanted to trust the man that had looked him in the eyes from the very beginning.
Even if he wasn’t quite ready to admit it to himself, the Prince fascinated him.
The door had been left ajar for him, when Simon reached the Prince‘s chambers.
He stepped inside, not closing the door just yet.
"Theres warm water for you in the tub-" he greeted him. "at least it should be warm soon. And some clothes, if you want."
The prince held a piece of cloth to his chin and throat, it was stained red already, Ghost looked away.
"Why?" he asked wearily, rubbing his thumb along the guard of his knife.
"Cause I fucked up."
Simon looked up at the sincerity of his tone, the prince smiled tightly, folding the blood-soaked rag to use it again.
"I fucked up, I wanted…to show you that I‘m not…"
He chuckled self deprecatingly, but didn’t elaborate.
"But I guess I went at it the wrong fucking way…"
Soap looked back up when Simon spoke.
"No. – I mean yes, you bloody did and I still don’t quite understand. But you’re definitely not…"
Ghost didn’t explain either, Soap nodded solemnly.
"I‘ll explain, I promise. Just-" he nodded towards the washroom.
"Think of it…as an apology."
Ghost grunted and brushed past him, pausing in front of the door.
"This will take a lot more than some hot water to get back from."
The Prince answered solemnly.
"I know."