Chapter Text
”Captain, the fuck we need a vehicle's’ expert for? Everyone in the Task Force can drive.” John Price gnawed at his cigar, taking it out to rub his face with a sigh.
“General Shepard noticed our reputation for exploding vehicles and Air Force is reluctant to send us pilots for any aircrafts we use for assignments.” Price didn’t need to see Simon’s face to know he was right. Roach and Gaz had both just gotten off from medical leave after their helicopter crash landed, they had to send Ghost and Ozone to pick them up after finishing the mission and their helicopter almost crashed outside of the base. Simon sat across Price, grabbing the file his Captain had separated from the rest of the paperwork littering his desk. No picture, just Biermann, Ale ‘Mute’ printed across, which he snorted at. The drunkest name he’s ever seen and the man’s a vehicles’ expert?
”He’ll die if he’s nothing more than an overpaid chauffeur.” Simon commented out loud, flipping through the file, eyes catching a photo, bent and dirty with dried blood sealed in plastic. A blurry shot of a soldier, presumably their FNG, bloody bandages around his face and head, rifle in hand as he and the photographer were tucked behind an upturned bed.
'The Watchpoint Valhalla Ambush'. He remembered hearing of it. Terrorists in Afghanistan had attempted to ambush and capture the base, a mostly medical base that was purposely far away from enemy lines. They failed despite the disadvantage of the mass of wounded soldiers, when help finally arrived the fight was over. A Lieutenant and a private directing those that could still stand, said LT later dying out on the field while the private became the soldier in the file Simon held in his hands.
”He’s earned a reputation of marksmanship and field first aid. A survivor; hasn’t failed an assignment, and never leaves a man behind.” Another photo, in a car this time. A soldier laid across the photographer and Mute, four hands clutching the wound in his chest, a balaclava covered Mute’s face but the hard look in his eye showed through the picture. The man survived according to the report, the now Corporal Mute drove through the whole base to get the man to the infirmary but that’s just efficiency.L
The man had been through hell and back, now General Shepard wanted him in the 141. Simon let out a sigh, seeing the last photo, seemingly crumpled and ripped up previously and taped together. An odd angle to a female soldier and a soldier with the face scratched out beyond the point of recognition, the woman smiling as she held the faceless soldier in a headlock ’Serg. Campbell and Pr. Biermann’ Most of the file was blacked out surrounding the photo. Though something itched at Simon, he couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.
”We’ll see how he does in the field. When’s his arrival?” The two stood up at the sudden knock on the door, Price already putting away the file. "Sorry to interrupt, Captain. I've received word that Captain Davis is arriving and we spotted a helicopter heading our way, I recommend getting to the landing pad, sir." The soldier turned and left, Price running a hand down his face, giving Simon a look. "In about five minutes, c'mon. Let's see if ol' Davis let the kid drive."
~~
"Tower 141, this is unit 2-9-8-4, designation Valkyrie with Captain Frank Davis. Permission to land, over?" Price and Simon heard through the radio, standing in the safe zone as the helicopter hovered carefully over the tarmac. "Valkyrie, this is Tower 141. You are clean to land. Welcome to Task Force One-four-one, over and out." The landing was clean, hardly a jostle from the passengers as Captain Davis stepped out and made a brisk walk towards his fellow captain. Frank Davis is known for being level-headed and able to rally his men with a single sentence, Price liked him as they both saw value in the lives of their soldiers, bearing the weight of the loss was a burden they both took in stride. The shorter man saluted the two before Price and Davis both went for a solid hug, old friends that hardly drifted when their careers pulled the two apart.
"Price, ya bastard, how've ya been!? Ope no, don't tell me, Shepherd's still the biggest stick in yer ass?" The two laughed, Simon watching the helicopter as one of the pilots got up and started throwing bags onto the tarmac, a plain, black balaclava covering the soldier's face.
"Corporal Ale insisted on piloting for me one last time, he'll be here soon. Good head on his shoulders, a tough nut to crack though. He's… quiet, likes to keep to himself, very few friends back in Germany." The three watched the soldier say a few words to the other two pilots before turning and stepping off the helicopter, scooping up the bags on his way over. The summer sun beating down over the tarmac as he stopped short, dropping a bag to salute the three. Simon got a better look as Price and Davis spoke more, not bothering to be subtle about his staring.
Corporal Ale Biermann stood shorter than he did, shorter than most soldiers really, and stared past the group, observing unfamiliar surroundings and catching Simon's gaze as uneven, dark brown eyes lingered on him a few times before Price recommended they move out of the sun and into his office. Ale walked a step and a half back from Simon, staying in the LT's peripheral as their captains caught up with life and the war. The walk to Price's office filled with Davis's wheezing, hearty laugh as he and Price recalled old stories from the early days of their careers.
"Now, I've been a bad captain. Barely introducing your newest recruit before stealing away yer attention, Price." Davis spoke once they were in Price's office, gesturing to the Corporal yet never fully touching him. "This is Corporal Aleksanter Biermann, also known as 'Ale' or 'Mute'. The best damn driver in the German military, not too shabby with a sniper rifle either. Yer in good hands with him behind the wheel." Price reached for a handshake, Ale giving him an adequate shake with nod, not a word out of him. Simon stayed back by the door as Price made Davis and Ale sit down, going over the finalizations of the unit transfer and all the confidentiality that comes with being under contract with the 141. Deeming verbal confirmation needed, Ale finally spoke, nothing more than a 'yes, sir.' or 'I understand, sir.'. Heavy German accent curling out scratchy and taut, the tension in his shoulders clear from the moment the corporal sat down.
"Captain Davis and I still have some things to discuss. Lieutenant, if you'll take the Corporal over to the dorms, Sergeant Hansford should have one ready." Price looked directly at Ale, keeping a solid hold on their shared eye contact. "I'll meet you at the front of the dorms within the hour, give you a tour of base and drop you off at the infirmary so they can do their half of the paperwork. No drills today. You're dismissed." The captains watched as the two stalked out of the room, Ale giving Davis one last nod before shutting the door behind him. Sitting in silence until the sound of boots faded down the hall. Davis turned to give a hard look at Price.
"You got the separate file I sent, yeh? Now I value my boys as much as you do, but if I hear a peep of ill from Ale when I come back in four months. There will be hell to pay, John." Price nodded, offering Frank a cigar before lighting his own, opening the window of his office. Davis smoked with him, catching where Price was looking. His lieutenant, the 'Ghost' with Ale in tow, the top of his head barely reaching Ghost's shoulder. "I think he'll fit in just fine. The boys respect a man that doesn't leave his brothers behind. Everyone in the One-four-one has secrets, and corporal Ale will have the most privacy I can clearance for a soldier like him." Davis nodded, satisfied with Price's answer as the two watched the masked soldiers enter the dorms. Another soldier walked out and held the door for the two, talking animatedly towards the two once he realized who it was.
~~
'Soap' MacTavish had to oversee a sparring match between Roach and Meat, the two needed to settle some differences and wanted Soap to spectate and make sure the fight is as fair as it can be. Gary ’Roach’ Sanderson is 90 kilos soaking wet while August ’Meat’ Harrelson is built like a brick shit house with a temper to match. Two are thick as thieves when Roach isn't trying to make the larger man bust a blood vessel and mop the floor with his corpse. And Soap was running late.
Not his fault though, Captain Price had announced that they were getting a new recruit and his fellow sergeant, Dean 'Rocket' Hansford, was scrambling to get the dorm ready after being injured on an assignment and still walking with crutches. John offered to do the deep cleaning while Dean made sure the necessities and requisitions had arrived and were in place. With dinner off base as promised payment, John started heading out towards the gym when he recognized the approaching figure of his Lt and a smaller shadow behind him. Being the devious little shit he is, Soap took this perfect opportunity to introduce himself to their FNG. Hustling to the door first, holding it open for the two.
"Morning Lt. This our military issued chauffeur? Sergeant John MacTavish, call me Soap though." The short, masked man blinked owlishly at his enthusiasm while Soap could feel the holes boring into the side of his head from Simon's glare. He dipped forward to offer to carry the duffle in the man's hand when the bad dropped to the floor and a rough hand grabbed his, stopping him in his tracks with a firm 'don't- fucking-try-that-again' handshake. "Corporal Ale Biermann, Mute will do out in the field, Sergeant." Kid's quick, picking up his duffle and walking into the dorms entryway, turning to wait for the Lt. Who was still glaring a hole in his head as Soap gave him a smile.
"I've got a spar to oversee, I'll catch up with you later, Lt. Pleasure meeting you, Corporal!" He shouted over his shoulder, running off before Ghost tried anything or opened his mouth, knowing full well that he’ll get hell for this later. Ghost, glaring at the man's retreating figure, turned to Ale, waiting with his foot holding the door ajar. He shook off the residual frustration with Soap's childish behavior and walked inside, bringing Ale to the dorm overseer's office.
Sergeant Dean Hansford was still on crutches but typing away at the desk, looking up when Ghost knocked on the counter. The Australian man was easy to work with out in the field, friendly enough off field aside from always bringing up his wife and their new daughter he was missing out on seeing grow up. Due to time zones, he stays up late to do video calls with them and his room is right underneath Simon's, you can do the math on why he's reluctant to talk to the man outside the battlefield. Dean gave an awkward half-smile, looking behind Simon to see Ale quietly standing by the door.
"Corporal Biermann, yeah? Captain Price mentioned you'd be arriving today, your room is ready and all requisitions are inside." Hansford shuffled to his feet, laying out some paper packets on the counter while Ale shifted duffle bags around, taking the forms once a hand was free. "Those are just standard rules and other boring shit that the brass put in place to keep this place up to code. Fill them out and get them back when you can, preferably by the end of the day but I'll take them whenever I'm in here." He smiled again, digging around his desk before holding up a set of keys. Dropping them into Ale's hand before sitting down again. Simon caught a glimpse of the room number and almost huffed in annoyance. Of course the FNG is across the hall from his room, only a handful of the rooms on his floor are full privacy. Personal bathrooms were considered luxury in the military, the 141 being no exception.
"I can take it from here, Lt. Bis später, danke." Simon gave Hansford a stiff nod, following Ale out into the hall and watched the shorter man walk down the hall and disappear into the stairwell. Just because the FNG didn't have drills, doesn't mean he didn't. Ghost walked out and headed towards the field, seeing a small group of Spec ops trainees gathering for the hell he's about to put them through.
~~
Finding the room was easy, though the knife marks on the door across from his raised a bit of concern in Ale. Dumping his stuff on the bed and floor and setting down the paper packets on the small desk. Putting down the shutters, Ale scoured the entire room, looking for any signs of hidden cameras or peep holes from the other rooms. Checking the bathroom once the main room was clear, and finding nothing. The coast was clear, Ale letting out a small sigh as he pulled the balaclava off, setting it on the desk as he ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it up from its flattened state. Ale had a half an hour to unpack, that was enough for the essentials, the rest could be done later.
Pulling out the military issued phone, an iPod, and a mini speaker from his backpack, Ale played a quiet playlist to fill the silence as he started on the clothes and his backpack. Pulling the drawers back open, Ale noticed the black sweater tightly folded in the top drawer. The symbol of the Task Force printed small on the chest, pulling it out revealed that not only was the symbol printed larger on the back but the thing was three sizes too large for Ale to wear. He’d take it as an insult if he was sensitive about his smaller stature, instead Ale hung it away with the other coats, too warm to wear in mid-July but will be nice for when the snow sticks around later in the year. If he makes it that far, of course. He wasn't naïve when it came to how dangerous working with the One-four-one. It's a high honor, and a high risk. One that Ale was content with making.
~~
To Price's unsurprise, the Corporal was waiting outside Sergeant Hansford's office, Dean leaning on his crutches with his phone out, likely showing the video of his daughter taking her first steps that Price had seen about a hundred times. Ale looked understandably uncomfortable but was politely nodding his head until he looked up to see Price, taking the opportunity to excuse himself and make his escape. Hansford gave Price a salute before going back into his office, Ale stopping at the bottom of the ramp to do the same.
"At ease, Corporal. You'll find the one-four-one isn't a place of formality unless the brass is visiting. Let's walk, lad." He motioned Ale to follow him. Leaning in as they walked further from the dorm entrance. "Was it April's first steps or her first words ol Dean was showing ya?" Price took the abrupt snort as a win when he glanced down to see the shaking shoulders.
"Her first words. The mutter is a… engineer, ja? Occupations are not optimized for new families, especially his." The souring fact was tossed out the window as Price showed the mess hall and gyms, the mess hall and dorms technically in the same building but a long hallway and storage separated the two. "True, Hansford is on desk duty until the end of his contract however. A broken femur would get him out of it if he hadn't insisted on doing a desk job." Opening the door to the gym forced the two to stop, a small crowd gathered around the wrestling mats, cheering and shouting while Soap stood over everyone.
"For the love of- The hell's going on here!?" Ale looked away, uncomfortable from the second hand embarrassment as the crowd broke away just as a built-ass man was laid out on his ass by a slim guy with a wad of gauze taped to his forehead. Ale stayed by the door as Price advanced on the group, almost considering waiting outside to avoid the staring from the other soldiers. Instead, Ale stared back, his mind drifting as Price's voice started to blend with the low TV static building in his ears. He hated feeling eyes on him, memories Ale longed to forget clogging his mind and pulling him right back to when everything happened. Drowning until a hand reached into the pool.
"Sorry for that, Corporal. These lads are a rowdy-..." Price paused, knowing the look from many soldiers. The sway in his stance as Ale stared forward, not really looking at anyone or anything. "Son? You alright there?" Price went from the side, knowing from experience that he'd catch a fist if he went in from the front. A slow hand reaching to not spook the kid outright, at least to 'wake' him up. With a sharp inhale and quick reflex, Ale stopped his hand. His eyes searched around as he heaved air into his lungs, turning past Price and marching out the door. Price caught the door, looking back at the group of soldiers standing there, having watched the whole shit show happen. Soap at the front, worry on his face clear as day as he took tentative steps forward until Price stopped them all from approaching with a hand motion, following Ale out the door with a hard look back at the men.
Ale didn't walk far, Price catching up to him as he stood taking slow breaths and flexing his hands over and over, repeating the current day and year out loud like a mantra. A full body shudder shook his small frame when Price got close enough.
"Verdammte Hölle. 'm sorry, Captain. Bad memories snuck up on me. Don't do well in larger groups these days." Ale finally spoke after a stretch of silence, eyes and body racked with exhaustion when he turned to him. "If you need to talk to someone, my door is open, lad." Price caught the flinch when he grabbed Ale's shoulder, removing it just as quickly when Ale took off his gloves. Hands trembling as he shook them out. "I appreciate that, sir. Though Davis has me in mandatory therapy, twice a month when not on an assignment. This won't happen again if I can help it."
While Price was ready to let Ale take the rest of the day to recuperate, the Corporal insisted on finishing the tour. The two walked along the edge of the track field where Ghost and another burly man stood shouting orders and insults to a troop of soldiers running the outdoor obstacle course. The two didn't stick around long after Ale's flashback, only giving a nod to Ghost and the other man. The small Corporal perked up as they neared the garages, seeing personal vehicles mixed with the professional and not a soldier in sight aside from them. Ale stopped when the two passed a covered motorcycle, tired eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas as he lifted the cover for a closer look.
"I believe that's Sergeant MacTavish's. Lad's so busy he forgets he has it here sometimes." Ale huffed, such a beautiful machine left collecting dust, for shame. Ale straightened up, climbing a Humvee to look over the whole garage. "If you want, I can check with everyone on base to let you tinker. I know some of these rust buckets could use a fix up." Price tapped his boot on a particular sedan, more rust than car and being held together with duct tape and a prayer. Ale agreed, seeing it as a way to get brownie points with certain soldiers. Maybe get the talkative Scotsman to let him borrow the bike. Well working vehicles made for content soldiers, and that was something Ale can work with.
"Did captain Davis leave already, sir?" Ale asked as they circled back to the offices and landing pad. Price motioned him to follow as they climbed up to the landing pad, Valkyrie starting up her propellers as they reached the top. "Had some work to do before flying back! Figured you'd want to see him off!" Price yelled over the growing roar of the engines, Captain Davis spotting the two and beamed as Ale jogged over, stopping before him to salute. Davis's smile grew soft as he saluted back before reaching a hand forward, knowing his corporal well. Shaking hands, Davis jogged off to the helicopter, Ale stood watching the lift off, lightly judging how the pilots flew until he couldn't see the aircraft. Ale was quiet as he walked back to Price, wringing his hands as they got closer to the Infirmary ward.
"Hate to throw you to the wolves, lad. But it's necessary. You can go back to your room once you're done here, dinner's served from 7 o'clock to 8:30. Good luck." Price went to pat Ale's shoulder, remembering the flinch and waved him off instead. He had a mountain of paperwork that he'd rather set a blaze than do, but he'll pick up the pen then maybe the lighter for a smoke break or three. Ale watched the captain walk away, swallowing dryly as he turned to the doors, somehow more fear inducing than all the terrorists that fought tooth and fucking nail to kill him. Making it up the reception desk had Ale popping his knuckles to not shut down and leave, already drained from all the change and the slipup of his memory. His only hope was that they didn't give him any religious med staff, Ale would throw fists at this point with a third strike on his first day in the task force.
~~
Ainsley Breckette, Registered Nurse(RN) stationed at the command center for Task Force One-four-one, watched as a short, masked soldier weaved his way up to the desk, wringing his hands with his shoulders up in his ears. A nervous one, Ainsley didn't have to even look at the kid to feel the anxiety. And Captain Price even told the team about this one.
"Corporal Biermann, yes?" The kid flinched at Ainsley's voice, nodding all the same. With a callsign like 'Mute', he wasn't expecting much talking from the soldier, though sometimes that's for the best. "Right on time, follow me. Doctor Mulder will be with you as soon as he can." Ainsley knew better than to ask questions about the mask or anything else, having to patch up Ghost occasionally made him learn the hard way. Paging the Doctor so the kid in the patient room doesn't have an anxiety attack from the wait, Ainsley gets back to the reception desk, putting away the Corporal's file while giving a sharp look to his other nurse. The gal was newer, not quite fresh blood but not used to keeping her mouth shut when it came to far-fetched gossip about the more mysterious operators in the One-four-one. "One word and I'm getting you shipped back to Paris."
Ale took his gloves off and shook out his hands as he waited, eyes on the clock and using the echoing tick to stay present. His therapist would be worried if he slipped up twice in a day, so Ale kept his hands moving, shaking them out to practice BSL in the reflection on the dark computer screen. There were few German operators in the task force, his usual DGS wasn't going to cut it. Ale repeated the Doctor's name, a sense of familiarity with it when a knock at the door pulled him from the fog.
"Aleksanter? Oh thank fuck, I thought they got Thalia. I-I mean, I'm glad to see you're doing well and everything after Valhalla." Sam Mulder, the doctor that woke Ale up when the gunfire started at Watchpoint Valhalla, walked to the desk, logging into the computer and typing away. "How do you know my sister? Thought you went civilian after the attack." Ale bristled, his family may be all military but his little sister is still under his protection. Sam looked up briefly before continuing his typing. "Did civilian work to further my degree. After that, I worked on the same base as her squad before Captain Price offered me a position here. That was a couple years ago."
"I miss it, a little, the pay is better here but that's cuz these soldiers go on suicide missions like is Sunday brunch." Sam went through the standard questions, taking blood pressure, and checking everything non-invasive that he could. An awkward pause between the two when he ran out of the general stuff. "Thankfully Captain Davis made sure all your blood work and more invasive testing was updated before you got dropped off here. I won't need anything until September, quick thing though. I know how your anxiety works so I'll be clear." He twirled his pen between his fingers, subtly handing Ale another pen for the man to fidget with. Watching as Ale took it apart and put it back together, then trying to copy his pen twirling before continuing. "I will handle all of your general medical needs. Medications, check ups, the works, yeah? No one else on staff will see you but me unless you come in injured."
"There's two people here that are qualified to handle your case, Captain Price chose me cuz I've worked with you before- well 'worked' isn't the word I'd use but whatever." A small chuckle between the two despite the terror of that event. A hundred soldiers died, several more later between being transferred to another medical center or from infection. "There's only two people qualified to handle your case, myself and Dr. Salucci. He's a good man, excellent doctor but he's… rougher on patients, good for the stubborn fighters in the one-four-one." Another silent pause passed the two, the elephant in the room bearing down on the two.
"How are the-" Sam gestured to his mouth, effectively stabbing the elephant in the eye. Ale sighed, rubbing his jaw through the mask. "It's… it's fine. You read what happened to me in Iran a few years back, ja?" Sam nodded, a grimace creasing his kind features. "I refused another surgery after that, but I'm used to it by now. The memories are the worst of it." Sam asked about pain, numbness, and if anything changes to let him know so they can mitigate and manage what they can. Walking Ale to the front door, Sam talking away as the corporal nodded, trying to pay attention in the haze of exhaustion. "I'll see you when Price sends you on an assignment, now go get some sleep. Shoo, go on." Ale flipped him the bird before walking outside, autopilot taking the reins in leading him back to his room, ignoring every soldier he passed no matter the rank. He can apologize later.