Work Text:
Soap was breathing heavily, his painful wheezing filling the otherwise silent cab and further putting Ghost on edge.
His knuckles, had they been visible, would be white knuckled with how hard he was gripping the wheel of the pickup they'd snagged to escape.
It had been close. Too damn close. Fuck Graves and his Shadows. And fuck Shepherd.
The truck hit a bump in the road and Soap groaned low in his throat, causing Ghost to cast him with a worried look. There was a lot of blood. Ghost had noticed but hadn't got a chance to fully assess how badly the sergeant was injured. Now he could see the red smeared all on the passenger door and his concern was growing.
It was eating at him. The worry and the smallest hint of fear.
He wouldn't lose someone else on his watch. Not to a betrayal. Especially not Soap.
Ghost needed to get them somewhere safe where they could lay low for a bit, catch their breaths, and he could tend to Soap. His eyes landed on a single silhouette of some sort of structure in the approaching distance.
There. That would do.
Soap was out of it, barely reacting when Ghost slowed and stopped the truck. The lack of a response only further concerned Ghost and had him muttering quiet curses under his breath as he gripped his pistol and exited the truck.
Clear the building. Get Soap inside. Hide the truck.
It was a barn, surprisingly empty with only sparse remains of straw. Perfect for lying low. He was expecting the Shadows to come so far out after them but if they did, the building would be easy enough to defend.
It was also big enough he could hide the truck in as well.
Two problems solved. Now he could focus on the third, the most important. Soap.
He got the door to the barn opened enough to slip the truck inside and when he got back he noticed that Soap was out, head tilted back and eyes shut. He looked pale and Ghost's breath caught in his throat.
Panic rose in his chest as he ripped a glove off and pressed bare fingers to the side of Soap's neck. The relief was dizzying when he felt the strong pulse.
"Come on Johnny," Ghost's voice was thick with emotion as he climbed back behind the wheel and eased them into the concealment of the barn, "let's get you patched up."
The bullet wound in Soap’s arm was thankfully the only serious wound that Ghost found so he started there. Unfortunately the bullet was still lodged in the muscle and Ghost knew he had to dig it out. He went as gently as he could but Soap’s face still contorted in pain and small noises escaped him but he never woke up.
Ghost gritted his teeth, but his hands stayed steady and sure as he fished the bullet out and applied a special antibiotic cream that they’d been given. It supposedly sped up the healing process while also getting rid of any bacteria that may try to set up. It was still in the early stages of development but all signs looked promising. If it helped here, Ghost might just personally endorse the product.
Once he applied a generous amount of the cream, he wrapped the wound with a bandana that he’d found in the truck. He made it neat and easily hideable. He used the cream on some of the larger cuts before he turned to his own wounds. He’d gotten grazed here and there by bullets and there was a shallow cut down his arm. Nothing major but he still checked them and used a bit of the cream on himself.
Once that was done, he let his eyes drift back over to Soap’s prone form. He noted that the other man looked less pained now and some of the color was returning to his cheeks. Good. He shouldn’t be out too much longer. He was calmer now that he had been, now with the knowledge of just how badly the Sergeant was hurt and with it marginally taken care of. He could turn his attention to other things.
Ghost grunted as he pushed himself to his feet and checked their weapons. There were a few clips of ammo between them and another gun in the truck. Luckily Ghost has a plan or rather it was Alejandro that had the plan and told him the location of the secret safe house just in case something went wrong and they needed to bail and regroup.
“Ghost…” Soap’s voice calling out with uncertainty and the faintest beginning hint of panic drew Ghost from his thoughts and when he turned he found Soap struggling to push himself up.
“I’m here Soap,” Ghost muttered, closing the short distance to kneel beside his comrade. He reached out, letting his gloved hand settle on the uninjured skin of Soap’s shoulder. It was as much of a steadying gesture for him as it was an anchoring one for Soap. It reminded him that Soap was here and was going to be alright and all the earlier traces of panic that still lingered within him could kindly fuck off.
“Wha’ happ’n’d” Soap asked, accent thick as he brought a hand up to massage his temples.
“Ya passed out on me. Blood loss from that arm there,” Ghost gestured to the bandage and watched Soap follow along, “Got us somewhere safe and got ya patched up. We can rest here for a bit longer but we can’t stay. I have a plan though.”
Soap hummed, his eyes slipping closed, “Give me just a few more minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
Ghost nodded even though he knew Soap couldn’t see. He hesitated for only a second before he lowered himself and sat with his back against Soap’s. Immediately he felt the other’s weight as Soap sagged against him with a grateful exhale of breath.
“We have to figure out how to get Alejandro back.” Soap’s voice was filled with determination when he eventually spoke.
“We will.” Ghost assured, confident. “We’ll get him back and we’ll make every single one of those bastards pay.”
It was a promise. One that Ghost intended to keep. Especially the later part.