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The mission itself was supposed to have been fairly easy, a quick in and out. Of course, knowing the 141’s luck it should have been obvious that it would have gone to shit. They had expected to make it out relatively unscathed. Instead, the four of them ended up with some pretty extensive injuries. Price ended up taking a hard hit to the head from the butt of a rifle, leaving him with a small concussion. Gaz has a deep gash, though now stitched up and wrapped tightly, that wrapped around from just shy of his inner wrist towards his elbow. “Gonna make fo’ a right belter scar,” Soap had told him as a nurse tended to Gaz’s wound, earning a smile from the man. Ghost simply ended up with a sprained wrist and bruised shoulder from landing wrong when he took a fall from off a platform. He had assured everyone that he was fine but Price was having none of it, ordering Ghost to take leave. And Soap? Well, he took a rather brutal hit to his side when an explosion nearby had sent large pieces of debris heading his way. When exfil came to retrieve them, everyone was mainly focused on Gaz, worried that the man was gonna bleed out. So, Soap’s own injury was put to the back of his mind, ignored in favor of helping his friend.
It wasn’t until his adrenaline wore off and they were all being checked out by medical that he recognized the ache in his side. Before any of the medical staff could look him over, he snuck out of the room and made his way towards his own. Once entering, he locked the door behind him and stepped into the bathroom that was attached to his room, a perk of being part of the 141. He flipped on the light switch, shutting and locking this door as well. He looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the dirt and grime that he hadn’t been able to wash off yet. With a sigh Soap began to peel his shirt off, gritting his teeth as he raised his arms up to pull it over his head. He furrowed his brows and frowned in discontent as he took in the sight of the left side of his body. The area on his ribs was a mix of deep blues and purples, seeming almost back in some places. He gently pushed his hand against the bruise, checking to make sure his ribs weren’t fractured or broken. He bit his bottom lip hard enough for a bead of blood to form and drip down his chin as he tried to stifle his pained whimpers. Once he concluded that his ribs were simply bruised, albeit rather intensely, he let out a sigh and rested his hands on the sink's edge. He gave himself a few more moments to collect himself and wiped the blood from his chin before heading back into his room and grabbing a change of comfortable clothes. He decided that he would take a shower and then take a much needed nap.
The shower left Soap more exhausted than the mission he had just been on. Each time he moved in an attempt to wash away the dirt that covered him, his side would burn with a sharp pain. By the time he turned off the water, his jaw hurt from how hard he had been clenching it. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes and his breathing was labored, each deep breath heightening the pain of his ribs. He painstakingly attempted to slip into his clothes. He was able to put on his underwear and a loose fitting pair of sweatpants but opted out of trying to get his shirt over his head. He simply grabbed his shirt and stepped back into his room. He wasn’t stupid, he knows one of his teammates will come to check on him sooner or later. So, he set the shirt on the nightstand next to his bed, ready for him to grab and throw on when someone inevitably knocked on his door. He let out a sigh and got into his bed, laying down as carefully as possible as not to jostle his side. He tried a few different positions, attempting to find the least painful. After a few minutes he gave up entirely and simply laid on his uninjured side.
Soap knew they were all going to be put on leave to rest up and heal. Those that are injured anyway. The thought filled him with dread. It’s not like he could stay with his family. they had disowned him long ago. Their personal views on certain matters, of him , too different for them to want him around. He wouldn’t even entertain the thought of asking to stay with one of his teammates. He wouldn’t want to burden him with that. He was loud, too energetic and annoying. They didn’t need that around them while they were trying to heal. Not to mention that his teammates tend to worry about others more than themselves, he didn’t want them to ignore their own injuries just to focus on his. So yeah, staying with any of them was a no go. Meaning, that if he were to be sent on leave, he would have to stay in a hotel which he would rather avoid at all costs. The base he and his team are stationed at is familiar and he doesn’t have to worry about what hides in the dark corners. It’s hardly ever quiet here, rookies and seasoned veterans alike constantly on the move training or just socializing. Even at night there are still people moving around. People he knows .
At a hotel, he doesn’t have this luxury. The silence puts him on edge, every creak outside his door making him itch to have a weapon in his hand. It becomes worse when it's dark. His mind begins to play tricks, convincing him that he is constantly being watched, that someone will sneak in and attack him while he’s vulnerable. He hardly gets any rest anyways when he is away from the base and his team members. So yeah, he would rather stay on base if possible. And it was, he just had to keep his mouth shut until his team left.