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“You don’t get it, you don’t get to fucking die on me alright!”
A silence came over the coms, Ghost’s voice had left him completely. The only sounds that Soap could hear were the pounding of the rain around him and the shouts of Graves’ men - not the most comforting remarks in the world those were. His arm was hurting like a bitch, the blood should have started clotting now, at least his shirt should have been sticking to the skin, but the rain was making it all much more difficult than it needed to be. Soap was in utter agony.
He was sure that the only reason he was even walking right now was that he had a mission ahead of him - if he and Ghost didn’t fix this then everything was going to go to ruin. It was bad enough that betrayal seemed to be as popular as street drugs were, Soap didn’t need to add another thing to that list.
Just get to the church. That mantra had been repeating in his head for what seemed like hours. Soap knew it couldn’t have been that long; he probably would have passed out from blood loss by now if that was the case. Not the greatest way to die, but it was quickly becoming the most likely.
His eyes kept fluttering shut despite himself, the adrenaline that had been keeping him going wasn’t pumping through his veins as strongly. Soap could feel his body finally giving in, yet trying its hardest to fight against the oncoming sleep. If he shut his eyes, if he dozed for even a second, Soap would be a dead man. He wouldn’t have to worry about what was going to happen after he met up with Ghost in the church because there wouldn't be an after.
Apparently, Ghost really wanted there to be an after.
That had been woefully unexpected to say the least. His lieutenant, the man that acted like something crawled up his ass twenty-four hours a day, was actually worried about what happened to Soap. It was laughable, that’s what it was. It wasn’t like they had the best history in the world before this, they weren’t all buddy buddies, but for some reason, Ghost was keen on keeping him alive. Soap could deal with that, he just needed to get to the church. That was all he had to do.
The water in the tunnels stung his open wound, probably catching a few foreign diseases as Soap swam through the murky water. Ghost kept talking, Soap could barely find his voice, and speaking would give away his position to the dozens of Shadows that were around him anyway. The other man tried to keep it light-hearted, as light-hearted as one could get when they were on the brink of death and left to rot by most of their team - people they thought were on their side had suddenly become the greatest enemy.
The church had become overrun, Ghost had grumbled something about that over the coms, but for Soap, it went in one ear and out the other. The only thing that he could process was the sound of Ghost’s voice, how annoyed it sounded for one, and how gruff it was as well. Soap was nearly pulled out of his body as he was shoved into a pickup truck, Ghost sliding into the seat beside him and starting the car up. Soap was amazed the man had found a car that would actually work.
Ghost’s eyes stared at him, obscured and darkened by his mask, “You alright?”
Soap smiled, his eyes trying to drift closed again, “Never better.”
They had been on the road for days, trying to get out of Las Almas, away from the hellscape that Graves and his men had created. It wasn’t the most comfortable of rides to say the least. There was something there, a sort of tension that had been present ever since Ghost had saved his ass back in the city. It had only festered over the time they were alone.
Completely alone this time.
There wasn’t anyone they could truly trust at the moment, they were trying to find Alejandro, hoping that he hadn’t turned his back as well. It was unlikely, but Soap didn’t think anything was impossible after what he had witnessed.
Ghost was holding the steering wheel with a lax grip; he had previously banned Soap from driving due to his injury, Soap just thought that was a load of shit. He was fine now, it had been a clean shot even if he had gotten some mud and scum on it. The wound wasn’t going to be lethal, it would just hurt for about a week, hopefully, within that time they would get a proper medic to help them out.
If they were even going to be able to return. Who knew how much had changed since they had been on the run. The commander mostly likely assumed they were both dead by now - as if anyone could kill Ghost.
Soap stole a look at Ghost, he had yet to take off his mask, even though it must have been thoroughly uncomfortable from the waterlogging and then the heat. How that man didn’t feel like he was being waterboarded in that downpour was beyond him. Then again it was Ghost, he could be sent on the worst of missions in the most heinous of places and barely speak a word about it.
Leaning back in his seat, he sighed. The sun was setting again, another day wasted away, not seeing a thing, wondering if there was ever going to be some way out of this never-ending nightmare. “What did you mean back there?” Soap asked, the question erupting out of his mouth. It had gotten too quiet, one of them had to say something before he lost his mind. Imagine that, all the tortuous things he had been through, and a bit of awkward car silence was going to be the thing that pushed him over the edge.
Ghost gripped tightly onto the steering wheel a bit harsher, “Back where?”
“Gee I wonder where we’ve been Lt.”
Ghost grumbled, returning back to that harsh exterior he liked to put up so much, “Having you die on me would have jeopardized the mission. We couldn’t have that now could we.”
Soap wanted to believe it; it made the most logical sense of course, but something didn’t feel right about it. Not when he thought about Ghost’s voice as he had shouted out those words, or how nervous he seemed now. It was uncharacteristic of him, to act like that. Ghost was known for his cold, hard facade, nobody could break through it and he never showed anything different, but this - Soap felt - constituted as different.
He shook his head, “I’m not buying it.” Soap turned once more, pointing a finger at the man, “You know that rescuing me was jeopardizing it more. You could have gotten out of there, but you waited for me. Why?” Ghost’s attention was pinpointed on the road, not even giving Soap so much as a glance. “You’re not gonna tell me is that so?” Soap tapped on the car door, the texture was rough, showing just as much damage as all the other things he had left behind. “It’s common courtesy to answer someone’s questions.”
Without a moment’s hesitation or notice, Ghost swerved the car to the right, slamming on the brakes. “Are you ever quiet?”
Soap swallowed hard at the man’s words, and more so his actions. Suddenly, he could see how someone could be terrified of this man, of what kind of monster hid beneath the mask. He took a breath to calm himself, “Maybe I would be if you actually talked with me.”
The two men stared at each other, both waiting for the other to fold first. It was a challenge, a threat almost. “You really want to know why Johnny?”
Soap’s mind did a flip as he heard his name spoken by Ghost’s voice, “Of course, Lt.”
Ghost’s eyes felt like they bored into Soap’s soul as he uttered, “Because you’re the only one worth fighting for anymore. Everyone else is gone, and I’m not going to sit around on my ass and lose someone else.”
Soap wanted to believe that was it, he didn’t want to recognize that there was another reason, a darker reason, hidden in the man’s words. Sure, he could be fed up with loss, Soap knew that he was, but that wasn’t the whole truth: he was sick of liars. “That’s not it.”
“Of course it is.”
Soap turned completely, his body facing the other man, “It’s part of the reason, but there’s something else you don’t want to say. So tell me now or else I’m gettin’ out of this fucking car and finding my own way to the safe house.” His heart was racing, breath ragged; Soap felt like he had just run a marathon.
He wanted to be wrong so badly, everything was easier when he was wrong.
There was a shuffling in front of him; before Soap could even process the movement, Ghost was ripping off his balaclava. Soap tried to get his bearings on whatever the hell was going on, but before he could do that a pair of chapped lips were pressed against his.
It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t filled with that sort of endearing love that everyone liked to talk about. Soap wasn’t even sure Ghost knew how to be soft in any way. That didn’t matter though, there was passion behind that kiss: it wasn’t accidental and it wasn’t without purpose. Ghost had meant to do that, and fuck did he not do anything halfway.
Ghost pulled back, leaving Soap utterly wrecked and dazed over what had just happened. “That. That was why I couldn’t leave you.”
Soap took a shaky breath, his mind still a mess, “Should have told me sooner Lt.”