Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The car stops in front of the flat. I’m well accustomed to the sound now. It takes them fifteen steps to the door and two seconds to find the doorbell.
When it rings, I get up and open the door.
The two soldiers look at me seriously. They always do.
“Love.” I say loudly into the apartment. “Your cab is here.”
He shuffles in the master, gathering his last few things. For a man so used to traveling and packing, it always takes him ages.
Looking at the soldiers, I force a smile. “Tea?”
They exchange a glance. “We should really be going.”
“Ah” I make. “One of those, eh?”
Neither man says anything, and I am spared from Smalltalk by John striding in. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close for a kiss.
“I’m sorry to leave, bird.” He murmurs into my ear, before he kisses me again. “It won’t be long.”
“Just come home safe.” I reply, holding on to him tightly. I do hate saying goodbye.
“Always.” He whispers into my hair, kissing my forehead. When he lets go, I feel his absence in my soul. He steps over the threshold of our door.
The soldiers salute us- him, salute him- and within a split-second, John becomes Captain Price. They take the fifteen steps back to the car and get in.
He only turns around when he’s seated and sends me a smile.
Kate has told him very little about this case. I know he’ll be gone for at least two weeks. I know he’ll be going dark. And I know he’ll be with the 141.
It makes it easier, somehow, while also making it harder to bear. When the car disappears in the afternoon rush, I close the door and lean against it. Taking three deep breaths, I check the time. There are a few more hours until I need to be at the studio.
Over the past two years, there have been dozens of instances where he’s been called away on a second’s notice. I know it bothers him, more and more each time, but he’s not ready yet. Nor would I expect him to be.
Making my way into the kitchen, I set up the kettle and fix myself a cup of tea. Waiting for the water to boil, I check my phone. It lights up with a notification. It’s a little Ghost Emoji and underneath a message.
I’ll make sure he’s home safe and sound before you know it, Duckling. Picking it up, I quickly text him back, before he, too, will have gone dark.
You better all come home safe and sound.
A second later, my phone dings, as I pour hot water into my mug.
That’s the plan. :)
With a sigh, I set the phone down.
It’s the waiting that makes me feel as if I age at double the speed. And it’s the worry, that keeps me up most nights. Sitting down on the couch, I lean my head back until it rests on the cushion.
“It’ll be alright.” I murmur to myself, as I clutch the warm mug tightly with images of the 141 flashing before my inner eye. “They’re gonna be okay.”

Watching the kids spar with one another makes me smile. It’s mostly girls of various ages that find their way into this class. While the Krav Maga is adjusted to their age, it still gives them extra confidence and exercise.
It’s the last few minutes of the class, so I call them together and have them kneel on the ground. We do a short meditation exercise before I dismiss the class.
Most of the kids do not come directly to me to say goodbye; but I do have the odd fan, that will make sure I’ve also had a good time.
Tonight, it’s a freckled, blonde girl, who wraps her arms around my legs tightly.
“Thank you for teaching us.” She grins up at me with her gap-y smile of a child. “I had fun.”
“Good!” I pat her head. “Now off you go, your Mum’s already waiting.”
She runs off and into her mother’s arms.
Usually, there are two of us teaching the class, but my partner, Mia, has called in sick. Secretly I’m glad.
Not that she’s sick, but that I get to close alone. After the chaos of the kids, it's nice to be in silence. It's comfortable.
Once the kids have filtered out to their parents, into the darkening evening, I lock the doors, turn the sign and begin cleaning. One of the kids has left their bag.
I place it behind reception and look around the room. Being lost in thought, I startle when my phone buzzes. I smile at the name and lean against the desk.
“Lauren” I say as I pick up. “How’s Washington?”
“Tilly, sweet girl. How’re you doing?” Her voice is dimmed and far off the usual light and airy happiness. Kate’s on the same assignment then.
“You know how it is.” I say.
“Yeah.” Lauren pauses. “Listen… I’ll be in London from tomorrow ‘till at least next week.”
I shut down the computer. “Fleeing the house, are we?”
“Something like that. I was hoping we could spend the time together.” She pauses.
Furrowing my brow, I bite my lower lip. Lauren is worried then. Despite the many years they have been married; Lauren has never adjusted to the life she’s chosen. Just as Kate has never been ready to let it go.
“I’d love it.” I say, making sure to keep my voice light.
“Wonderful!” Lauren exhales. “I’ll send you the details of my flight, but let’s meet for lunch after, yes? We have so much to catch up on.”
I chuckle. “We saw each other last month.”
“Yes, but so much has changed!”
Naturally, I agree, and a minute later I hung up, standing in the silence of the studio once more. I should call my mother. She would love to see Lauren. My eyes fall onto the punching bag.
Contemplating doing a round of boxing before I leave, I walk toward it, but there is a knock.
Through the glass door, I can see a woman. She holds her hands up apologetically.
“I know you’ve just closed” she says. “But can I come in? I’ve come straight from work.”
Plastering a smile on my face I go to open the door.
“Come on in.” I tell her. She looks as if she’s run all the way here.
“I do apologize.” She says with a smile. “My daughter has been begging me to take your classes ever since her friends joined.”
Nodding I gesture at the front desk. “Glad to hear it.”
She looks around the studio with piqued interest and a wide smile. “Thank you.” She leans against the desk as I get the forms ready.
“How long have you had the studio, Miss Bellamy?”
“It’s Price.” I reply, absentmindedly. Still, as I say it, I feel warmth pools in my stomach and a blush rises to my cheeks.
“Huh?”
Looking up I hand her the forms and smile. “It’s Tilly Price. I recently got married.”
The woman blinks twice as if she needs extra time to process what I’ve just said, but then she takes the papers. She glowers at the wedding band on my finger. “Price.” She repeats to herself as she starts filling out the form with shaky fingers.
“How old is your daughter?” I ask her. “There are different classes for different-“
“She’s ten.” Her voice cuts in as her eyes pierce into me. It’s gotten colder, somehow. Suddenly, I feel uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, is something wrong?” I ask her, trying to sound both friendly and confident.
“You married him?”
It’s as if the air is sucked from the room.
“What?”
She sets down the papers with force. The hollow slap of her hand hitting the front desk makes me flinch. “You. Married. Him!” She hits the desk with each of her words, nearly climbing over it.
“Jesus” I mutter, as I take a step back.
“He has no right-“ her voice grows shrill, as she begins grabbing pens and decorations from the desk, throwing them around the room. A vase hits the mirror across the room and both shatter.
The sound rips me from my stupor. I vault over the front desk and grab the woman on her shoulders.
“Enough!” I tell her.
“YOU MARRIED HIM!” she shrieks in my face at the top of her lungs, shoving me backward. “He has no right to be happy.”
I try to get a hold of her and usher her out, but she continues to throw my things around the room at full force.
“Ma’am!” I duck under a salve of pens. “If you won’t leave, I will call the police!”
She stops, mid-movement, a thick book on self-defense in her hands. Then she cocks her head and smiles at me. She throws the book at me, and I dodge it.
When I straighten back up, she’s just in front of me, her hand open and a grin on her face.
“Old friends long for you.” She tells me, before she blows at her hand.
Bitter powder hits me in the face. Instantly my lungs feel tight, and my brain becomes foggy.
There isn’t enough air and I feel my knees buckle, as the coughing begins.
I try to get to my phone, crawling forward on all fours. I see double, and everything goes darker.
She steps around me, and crouches down, all remnants of her craze having vanished.
“Sleep tight now.” She hums, just as the black closes in.

Chapter Text

Some people would describe me as cold hearted, or hardened, even, and say that there isn’t anything that could still make me lose my cool. That I always know just what do to next; that in any situation I have a solution ready.
It’s far from the truth.
I’ve just arrived at the location, when I the overwhelming feeling of dread begins tugging at the back of my mind. Reaching for my phone, I contemplate my options for a second.
We’re meant to go dark. No contact to anyone- least of all spouses. I should not call her. I should not.
“Is that your own device, Captain?” Kate asks me. I jump and turn around. The woman could sneak up on an angry tiger if she so pleased.
“I have a real bad feeling, Kate.” I mutter, playing with the phone in my hand. I don’t necessarily want to confide in anyone, but if someone understands, its Kate.
She furrows her brow and purses her lip. “About the mission?”
I shake my head. “No.” I pause. “My wife is all alone.” Feeling silly the moment the words leave my lips, I sigh. She narrows her eyes at me, before she laughs and reaches for the phone in my hand.
“You” she begins, tapping the device against my chest. “Just get a kick out of saying my wife.” Taking a step back, she slips my phone into her pocket. “Tilly is fine.”
With a deep breath, I try to drown out the dread. “How do you know?” I ask her.
Kate cocks her head. “Please.” She mutters. I hold her gaze. “I sent Lauren her way.” Kate finally budges, as she checks her watch. “They should be meeting at the airport shortly.”
I feel relieved. If Lauren is there, I know Tilda will be kept safe. Yet, the dread doesn’t leave me, continuing gnawing at my mind.
Kate knows. Of course, she does. She gives me a playful push. “We can call’em later, alright?”
“Thank you.” I murmur.
“You softie.”
She’s called me that more times than I can count in the past two years. Perhaps I am. Having someone waiting for me at home has changed my perspective on life tremendously. I always assumed- planned, almost, even- that I would die on a mission. Perhaps saving the boys or stopping a bomb or simply because I’ve fucked up.
But now… I want to go home. I want to leave my armour at the door. I want to be John, not Captain Price.
“Come on, now.” Kate chuckles. “Stop looking as if your cat died.” I muster her, before she continues. “We’ve got work to do.”
Nodding I take a few deep breaths. I need to be on my game.
I follow her through the unfamiliar Base, trying to shake my bad feeling with every step I take. Failing, I resign for deep breaths instead.
Originally, this was the exact reason Tilda decided to leave the army. The constant worry kept me unfocussed. Finding myself making avoidable mistakes, she decided for the both of us.
I tried to stop her, insisting I’d retire instead, but she wouldn’t let me. Rightfully so, unfortunately. I’m not ready to leave it all behind, no matter how much I might want to.
She, however, has left it all behind surprisingly easy. Gone and dusted herself off, starting a new adventure. It’s a sacrifice I can never repay my wife for; even if she doesn’t feel that she’s sacrificed anything.
She’s got my back, leaving me free to pack up and leave whenever I’m called for.
I am proud of her, immensely so. She’s picked up a career working with veterans and runs the Self-defence studio with great passion. Perhaps it was easy for her, because the army was only ever a stop along the way, not her destination.
It’s getting harder to leave her behind each time I watch her stand in the door, seeing me off. I don’t want to be away from her, ever.
When Kate and I enter the room, the boys are waiting for us in the usual manner. Gaz and Soap are goofing off to the side, as Ghost stands next to the door. Nikolai stares out the window.
“Gents.” I say as I enter. Instantly the mood changes. I’ve got their attention.
With a last, lingering thought of Tilda, I clear my throat and start the screens.
“Our goal is clear-“

I find Kate after the brief. She’s in the hallway, on a call with Lauren.
“She’s just running a little late.” Kate tells her. “Maybe she got caught up at work. You know she tends to forget what time it is.”
I can’t hear Laurens reply, but Kate’s gaze flickers to me. “Just go to the apartment. She’ll be there.”
Saying goodbye, Kate hangs up. For an impossibly long second, neither of us says a word.
There isn’t any time, I know that.
She’s already broken the rules.
“John-“
Shaking my head, I turn around. “She’s just running late.” I tell her, hiding my trembling hands under my vest. I can’t let myself believe anything else- and Tilda does forget about her surroundings when she’s in the zone. I’m not sure just how often I’ve had to force her to stop working. With a deep breath I calm my mind. She’s home. In safety. Far away from the guns; the shooting; the fear. Tilda is fine.
The 141 is geared up when Kate and I round the corner to the truck. The air around them is more serious. Gaz is in the driver’s seat, nervously tapping against the steering wheel.
Kate cocks her head when I sit down, stepping back. Her gaze lingers on me for a moment longer.
“Good luck. I’ll be your liaison at command.” Knocking on the car twice, we pull out.
Ghost narrows his eyes at me, studying my face.
“What is it?” he asks me.
I can’t lie to them- not any of them, but least of all Ghost.
Simon was Tilda’s Best Man. If he catches a whiff of my dread-
“Focus, Ghost.” I say instead. “We’ll chat after.”
His gaze goes cold. “I’ll take your word for it, Captain.”
The farmhouse stands surrounded by darkness and fields. The sun is just setting when we approach from the front. If they do see us coming, Ghost is positioned to take them out.
“Bravo-06 for Actual.” I mutter, just as we get ready to break open the doors. “We’re ready.”
“Good.” Kate replies. “Go.”
There’s four of them in the kitchen. Gaz gets the first one, and Soap stops the next one, before he can get his weapon. The other two surrender, stunned.
Leaving Gaz with them, I lead Soap upstairs. There should be two more.
One jumps out from a room to the left. I’m not fast enough, but Soap’s got him.
“Fucker.” He mutters, as we step over the dead man.
Dead ahead there’s another door. Its ajar, and from within we can hear hushed words.
I send a look to Soap. He overtakes me with a nod.
Charging the door, we make entry fast. There’s three of them. They’re armed and not giving up.
Hitting one square in the chest, the other barrels at the window, jumping out. The third leaps toward us, before he’s downed by a bullet.
“We've got a runner.” I tell Ghost, checking the men on the ground.
“Affirmative.” He replies. “I see him.”
Twenty seconds later it’s over. The house is quiet.
We stand in the kitchen and look at the table. It’s a substantial amount of drugs.
Soap looks at Gaz. “Enough for quite the party.”
Gaz snorts as he rounds the table, studying the maps, laptops, and drugs.
“Why would we be called to a drug bust, Cap?” he asks me.
It’s a valid question. We’re usually not. At least not that far away.
Ghost’s sharp voice cuts through me when he enters. “The body outside had the coordinates for another location on him.”
“What location?”
He hands me the paper.
"This'd be why." I send Soap a look. “Explosives?” I then ask Ghost.
“Looks that way sir.”
Cursing under my breath I call for a bird. It’s too far for the car.
Carefully keeping my mind on the task at hand, I don’t dare looking at Ghost. I feel his eyes on me. I reload my weapon, with shaky fingers. She’s just running late. That’s all.
“Couldn’t go without me, yes?” Nikolai says over the comms. “I am landing now. Get yourselves in here.”
I let my gaze wander around across my team. “Heard the man. Hustle.”
Hours pass.

Hours.

We’re chasing after explosives halfway across the wastelands.
When finally, we find them, it’s an easy raid. Nobody expected us. The guards are not equipped to deal with special force like ours.
I stand in front of the warehouse, waiting for the relief team. Only when it arrives and we’re back in the chopper to return to Base, do I let the dread in the back of my mind back out.
“Kate” I say. The comm still active. “Did they make it to lunch?”
There’s a pause. It stretches too long. I feel as if my heart stops in its tracks.
“Come to my office when you land.” Kate replies. “It’s urgent.”
Ghost walks up, placing himself in my space. Towering in front of me, he crosses his arms before his chest, looking at me intensely. “Is it after yet?”

Kate looks pale when we enter. She sits at a desk, an open laptop before her, watching us enter, one after the other.
“Of course. All of you.” She mutters.
None of us feels like sitting. Instead, we filter around the desk and remain standing.
She hands me my phone. I have 38 missed calls. Her gaze rests on Ghost while she rummages for his phone and hands it to him. “You too, Lieutenant.”
“Why would Lauren call me?” He asksas he checks the screen.
“Tilly was meant to meet Lauren at the airport for lunch 18 hours ago.” Kate clears her throat. “She never showed.” A pit of darkness opens in my stomach. It’s as if the ground is moving beneath me. It threatens to topple me over.
“What?” Gaz’s voice is low. “Why are you only-“
“She hasn’t reported to work either.” Kate continues. “We sent people to the apartment. She wasn’t there.”
“What about the studio?” I ask, feeling the pit deepen. Maybe she had an accident.  “Hospital records?”
“We went to the studio. This is what we recovered.”
Turning the screen, I lean forward, placing my hands on the desk. It gives me an anchor.
It’s the security footage of the studio. The camera is an old thing and it has no sound, only images. I tried to talk her into something better, but she never budged. We watch children clear out of the studio before the room empties.
Tilda is walking into the frame, holding a bright, pink bag in her hand. She’s wearing her training gear. Shorts, a shirt and comfortable shoes.
As she sets down the bag, she picks up the phone. With a smile, she leans against the reception desk. For a second I can see her face clearly. At ease, calm. Perfectly content.
“She’s talking to Lauren.” Kate says. “There was nothing unusual about the call.”
We watch Tilda hang up and walk to the punching bag. She rolls her shoulders-
And suddenly turns around.
I know the smile she fakes. It’s the one she uses when she wants to be perceived as extra friendly.
Opening the door, a woman enters. She’s unremarkable. About forty, dark hair and normal build. Wearing an old raincoat and a purple bag.
Tilda begins to get the papers ready, as they appear to have a friendly chat.
The situation changes, when Tilda says something with a smile, handing the woman the forms. The stranger freezes, and stares at her unmoving. I see my wife’s smile falter, ever so slightly. Forcing it back, Tilda furrows her brow and tilts her head.
After, its sudden mayhem. The woman begins slapping the counter, before she grabs whatever she can reach and throws it at full force, in all directions.
Tilda is as much taken off guard as we are. Clearly trying to dissolve the situation, she tries to calm the woman down. After minutes of crazy, the stranger stops, as Tilda approaches her, with her hands in the air. Few words are spoken.
Then the woman throws a thick book at Tilda’s face. She dodges it, and the woman approaches, reaching for something in her bag. When my wife looks back at the stranger, the woman has her hand extended and… blows?
White, misty powder hits Tilda’s face. She coughs, hard, and stumbles back. Almost instantly she goes down, clinging to consciousness by nothing but her own stubbornness. She’s crawling back to the desk, slowly, fighting to stay alert.
The woman walks around her, and crouches down. She speaks soft words to her when Tilda finally crumbles to the ground. My eyes widen, my heart beats out of my chest. Is she dead?
The woman steps over my wife’s still body to the door and opens it. Men enter. They’re dressed in all black, wearing sunglasses and suits. One picks Tilda up, throwing her over his shoulder.
The others quickly search through the studio, seemingly not finding anything of note.
It’s the woman that piques my interest.
She’s scribbling something on a piece of paper and climbs up to the camera. She smiles, seemingly directly at us, and holds up the message.
It’s a short read. 

141

Chapter Text

I’ve been angry a few times in my life. Not generally very often, I find it does not let me think straight. The rage can help in a battle; but this is different.
The anger I feel now, does the opposite. My senses are on high alert, letting me see everything clearer, as if magnified and slowed down.
I lean over Kate, knowing full well its threatening.
It’s meant to be.
She holds my gaze, but I sense her nervousness.
“You kept this from me.” I growl at her. “You kept this from us for 18 hours.”
“Cap-“ Gaz tries to pull me back, but I don’t budge.
“The mission was of vital importance.” Kate says quietly. Ever the soldier. White, hot anger threatens to overtake me.
“Is the mission more important than her?” my voice dips low.
Kate blinks. “Captain, stand down.”
“That ain’t gonna work.” I glower at her.
Gaz pulls harder at me, until I give in. I still stand too close to her desk, my eyes burning into her. “She’s like your daughter.” I spit. “How could you keep this from us?”
She straightens her back, searching for words.
“We weren’t sure-“
“Bullshit.”
I’m only marginally surprised when Ghost steps forward. “You knew we’d abandon post. You knew we wouldn’t give a fuck about some explosives when she was in danger.”
“She might not be-“
Ghost places his hand on the laptop, closing it gently. Kate stares at him and for the first time I think she’s truly afraid. She looks at me for help, and I step back.
“Do we have any leads?” Ghost asks her.
“None of you are cleared to-“
“Listen, Laswell.” Soap cuts in, joining Gaz in his efforts to calm the situation. “Ye know as well as we do, that we ain’t stickin’ round here.” She flutters her eyes at him. “Give us everythin’ and a mode of transport. And maybe- maybe- we’ll return to duty once we have found our lass.”
It’s ten tense seconds of silence.
“Tell your team to stand down.” She demands, staring at me.
“Like hell I will.”
Defiantly setting her Jaw, she gets to her feet. “I could have all of you thrown in jail.”
“Sure.” I say. “You could.”
Ghost tilts his head. “My patience is running thin.”
“You know I don’t like this any more than you do, John.” She tries again. “We have a-“
“I urge you not to finish that sentence.” Gaz suddenly says, slowly moving himself in between us and her. He swallows empty, his hands lifted.
“Please?”

The trip home passes in a blur. I’m not sure how and when it happened, but I stand in our entrance, staring into the empty apartment.
I can still see her, leaning against the doorframe, as I drive off. I enter, almost hesitantly. Usually, when I come home, she's here. Racing to wrap me into a hug, kissing all my worries away. 
Gaz has taken over the kitchen, while Soap is setting up the computer. Kate has given us all she knows. Begrudgingly, but she did.
Lauren sits on the stairs, staring blankly at the ground.
Walking down the hallway, I pass Tilda’s “wall of pictures.” She’s serious about it and adds pictures whenever she can. She’s accumulated many over the eighteen months we’ve lived here. The frames are mismatched and the love oozing from the pictures is real. Theres some of us; at the beach in Spain, hiking in Switzerland, playing cards with the boys and saying our vows. My heart flutters, whenever I see the way she looks up at me through her fringe, her nose crinkled with a smile. I tear my gaze away, to different pictures.
The 141 sprawled out on out couches, a picture of Ghost, Soap and Gaz on a mission, even her brother and mother, sitting in our garden. Each one placed with great care. I can see her then, a smile on her face, stretching until she can reach the perfect spot. Not that she’d ever let me help.
I sigh.
In the middle, the largest picture, is my favourite of our wedding.
I’m not in it.
In fact, I knew nothing of its existence, until we got the lot from the photographer.
It’s the team’s first look. She chose to do one with the boys, before we saw each other.
She stands, her hands covering her laughter, barefoot in the grass. The dress caught by a summer-breeze, her loose hair moving as she laughs.
Soap cheers, his hands thrown into the air, as if he won a game of cards. Gaz beside him laughs, too, his cheeks lit up by the happiness.
Most remarkably, Ghost walks toward her, his hands reaching for her, with a wide grin on his face.
Only, it’s not Ghost.
It’s Simon. Maskless.
“Simon?” I ask her, as I watch her dry her long hair with a towel. “Simon is your Maid of honour?”
“Well, obviously I’ll call him my best man, but yes.” She sends me a look. “Are you truly surprised?”
I think about it, walking toward her. Placing a kiss on her shoulder, brushing a damp strand of hair back I take a whiff of her scent. As my hand travels down her body, I feel the scar of her gunshot. It’s still red and angry and a stark reminder of just how close I came to lose her. It was Simon then, too, who made sure she made it through. He kept calm, amongst the utter chaos.
So no, I’m not surprised he’s her Maid of honour. When she can’t reach me, she tries him first. And somehow, he always answers. I’m glad for it.
“No.” I quietly tell her. “I’m not.”
Tilda turns to me, her hands idly combing through my short hair before she kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Also, can you imagine how much my mother will hate the mask?”
As if he can hear my thoughts, Ghost materialises next to me.
“We’ll find her.” He says. There isn’t any doubt in his voice. Unsure who he’s trying to convince – me or himself – I look at him from the corner of my eyes.
“Chances of finding a missing person alive drop significantly within the first 24 hours.”
“Yeaaaah.” He replies, slowly. “But she isn’t missing.” We look at each other. “And she isn’t just someone, is she?”
I search his eyes. He seems completely calm. I’m not sure it’s true.
“Alright lads.” Soap roars. “I’ve loaded up all the information we’ve got.” He sighs. “Not gonnea lie, it ain’t much.”
“It’ll do.” Ghost says as we walk in. “Show me.”

When Gaz places the third coffee in front of us, I shake my head. We need to sleep. Proper sleep, not in a plane, not in between raids. Sleep, in a bed, with closed blinds. We’ve exhausted ourselves and our leads for now anyway.
“Let’s call it a night.” I say, reluctantly. My voice is hoarse.
“What?” Ghost stares at me unblinking. “We can’t give up.”
“We’re not.” I reply. “But we’ve been staring at the same face for hours. We need rest. We’ll be back at it first thing tomorrow.”
They grumble. None of them like it- I don’t like it, either.
Filtering out of the kitchen, they find their usual spots around the house. Soap and Ghost take up the guestroom while Gaz makes his way to the office. The couch in there has always been his.
Lauren has not moved from the stairs. It’s dark now, and she still stares at nothing.
Sitting down beside her heavily, our shoulders touch.
“I tried to reach you.” She whispers. “I tried.”
“I know.” I reply.
“Do you think she’s dead?”
The words hang around us, like mist in November. They’re heavy and hard to hear. Even the possibility crushes me, but I shake my head.
“No.”
Lauren shudders, leaning forward on her knees. “We’ve never had children, because Kate was afraid of this happening.” She says. “She told me it’s too dangerous, because of who she is.”
Waiting for her to continue, I lay an arm around her.
Lauren and I aren’t close. We’re spending much of our time together because of the people we love. And, since Tilda has left the army, there is a newfound understanding between the two of them. “Waiting together makes it easier, you know?”
“I met her when she was twelve.” Lauren says into the silence. “She was a mess of limbs and wild hair and wide smiles.”
“I’ve seen pictures.” I tell her. Then; “You should sleep.”
Lauren looks at me. “You’ll find her, won’t you?”
“I won’t stop until she’s back.” I confirm.
She nods, searching my face. “Good.”
I set her up on the couch next to the TV. I offer her the bedroom, but Lauren refuses. Curling up under a blanket, she sends me off.
Our bedroom is wrong. It’s uncomfortable somehow. Lost all its charm.
Looking at the bed, I don’t want to get in. She made it, after I left. Fluffed up the pillows and straightened the blanket.
After a moment I scold myself for being ridiculous. I slip under the covers, trying to get comfortable.
The bed is too big. Too cold. I twist and turn, but it never feels comfortable.
Dealing with some demons?
I hear her voice as if she’s right next to me. As if she’s still my sergeant at 141. Sitting up, I rub my face, slowly.
I need to find her. I need to have her safe, here, with me.

Chapter Text

I can feel that it’s too early to be up. My head is still heavy, and my eyes refuse to open. Stretching my arms across the bed, I keep my eyes closed. Maybe, if I’m lucky, John’s still asleep and I can snuggle up to him, finding a few more hours of blissful sleep.
The bed is cold though, and empty. I scold myself.
Of course it is. John’s gone on-
I freeze. He’s gone on assignment. I had been at work. A woman…
Choosing to remain calm, I open my eyes slowly. Now wide awake, I roam my eyes through the room.
A man is sitting by the door. He’s reading a magazine in silence, not looking at me. There’s a gun in his holster. I can see an open window, a desk, and a closet. The breeze flowing in smells of trees and earth and rain.
The sheets are soft and comfortable.
For a moment, I consider my options. Maybe- Maybe- I can bolt through the open window. There’s no telling what’s on the other side, but-
“Are you hungry?” the guard asks me, without looking up.
Not moving, not making a sound, I close my eyes.
“Come on.” He mutters. “You must be starving.”
He’s… not wrong. I’m a little hungry but mostly, I still feel dead-tired and my stomach is in knots. There’s no way around it though, so despite feeling weird about it, I sit up. With an out-of-place-smile, the guard looks at me.
“’s what I thought.” He says.
“How did you know?”
He shrugs. “Your breathing changed.” His accent is heavily American, and he sends me a wide, friendly grin. He seems oddly out of place.
Letting my feet dangle over the edge of the bed, I study the man. Moving through the room, there isn’t any doubt that he’s been here a while. He moves like a soldier, dresses like one too. Setting down his magazine, he turns to me.
“I’ll get you food. Don’t do anything dumb.”
The door shuts behind him, and instantly I get to my feet. My knees feel wobbly, but I ignore them. In a split second I’m by the window, leaning forward. Its bright outside, and beautiful.
The drop nearly makes my stomach lurch. It’s at least four stories of smooth stone wall. Underneath, the ground is uneven. Before me, a forest stretches as far as I can see, over hills and valleys. 
“Fuck.” I mutter.
Behind me the door opens, and I turn around, watching the guard enter. He’s holding a tray. Another grin spreads over his face, as his eyes meet mine.
“Nice try.” He tells me, as he gestures to the desk. “Did you really think it’ll be that easy?”
“No.” I mutter, as I sit. Setting down the tray before me, my stomach churns, making me feel queasy.
There is no cutlery on the tray, and I look up at the stranger. He pulls a knife and fork from his jacket and sets them down next to me.
“Enjoy your meal.”
I eat slowly, watching his every move. He doesn’t look like much.
But he is.
Even through his suit I can see the muscles ripple with every move he makes.
I’ve been working with veterans for just under a year. He clearly is one.
Some do better than others, adjusting easier back to civilian life. Others – many – struggle hard. I can relate to either way. If I hadn’t been able to find a job after leaving the army, especially one that gave my life meaning, I’m not sure how I would have coped. Of course, I’m lucky to have a great support system, filled with people who know what it’s like.
“What?” he asks me, suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I’m a prisoner.” I state.
He huffs, not tearing his gaze from the magazine. “You’re a guest.”
“That can’t leave.”
“Detail.”
“Devil’s in the details, though.”
Finally, he looks up. There’s a hint of amusement in his grey eyes. “Eat.” He says leaving no room for debates.
I do, even if the food tastes like nothing. Silently I take stock of my surroundings. I’m still wearing my training gear and my hair is a mess. They took my shoes and everything that was in my pockets.
The room itself is none-descriptive. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s a hotel.
There are two doors. I suspect one is the bathroom.
I’m only able to eat half the meal before I feel nauseous. Even though I should be hungry, I feel no real appetite.
Getting to my feet, I find my seat back on the bed. The guard eyes me carefully.
“You solid?” he asks me.
“How many trips did you take to the sandbox?” I ask in return, pulling my knees to my chest, and leaning against the wall. “I’d guess at least Three.”
He’s taken off guard.
Good.
“Iraq, was it?” I continue, leaning my head on my knees. “Let me guess- Army?”
The guard stares at me unmoving. “Two tours in Iraq, two in Afghanistan.” He says after a moment. “How’d you know?”
Tilting my head, I shrug, again. “I’ve spent most my time around soldiers.”
Looking at me, he remains silent for a moment longer. Then he grumbles. “I’m not here to chat with you.”
“Clearly.”
As he goes back to reading his magazine, I get to my feet, opening the bathroom door. It has a shower and a toilet, as well as a metal mirror. Narrowing my eyes, I bite my lower lip.
Interesting.
Struggling to keep my eyes open, the rest of the day, I try to pass time by exploring the room. Its an easy enough task. There isn’t much to see really. There’s a change of clothes in the closet, and books on the desk. The room is eerily quiet though, except for the irregular turn of a magazine page. The sun has begun setting and the golden-orange light dips the whole room into warm colours.
Sitting down, I feel heavy. I remember it well; the jetlag from missions. Back then I was able to shake it off with adrenaline. You can’t feel jetlagged when people are shooting at you. Or buildings blow up-
I sigh and close my eyes. Patience is what I need now. Try and get my wits about, sleep at the appropriate times before I can even attempt to flee.
Also, I need shoes.
“You alright?” the guard asks me.
Nodding, I lay down on my side. “I’m fine.”
I hear him approach. “Listen” he begins. “Guard rotation is every eight hours.”
Confused, I crack an eye open. “Okay?”
“The other two are…” he pauses. “Don’t test them. Don’t talk to them. Don’t try them.”
My brows shoot up. He seems sincere enough. At my silence, he continues. “They’re loose cannons. Both of them. Trigger happy, too.” He searches my face. “Try to sleep through the first one and make sure you don’t talk to the second unless spoken to.”
“What?”
“Just-“ he looks a the door. There are voices. “Please.”
Looking at him wide-eyed I manage a single nod.
He sits back down, and lifts the magazine, just in time for the door to open.
A woman enters, accompanied by two men. One walks straight to the guard, the other follows her, as she struts toward me. She smiles, but her eyes are stone cold.
“Mrs. Price” She says. “How good to see you.”
My eyes are fixed on her.
“You must have many questions.” She continues, as the man next to her pulls a chair closer. She sits and fold her hands before her.
“I can answer some questions, if you like.” She smirks. “I have some of my own I would like answered.”
Flickering my eyes at the people in the room, I sit up, my back against the wall.
“Who are you?” I ask. Truthfully, I don’t expect her to answer. But she nods.
“My name is Nabila.” She purrs. “I am here to watch over you until we get what we want.”
“And what is it-“
“Ah, ah, ah, ah” Nabila makes and instantly I stop. “My turn.”
I swallow empty. “Fine.”
“How long have you been married?”
The question catches me off guard. “Excuse me?”
“How long” she repeats, her voice dropping. “Have you been married?”
“Do you, Mathilda Evelyn Bellamy, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” I smile at him. His eyes glint in marvel and pure happiness radiates off him.
“Do you, Johnathan Price, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her-“
“I do.” John interrupts, his hands giving mine a warm squeeze. “For as long as I shall live.”
“Three months.” I tell her.
Nabila lowers her head with a nod. “I see. You got your happily ever after, did you?”
“I love him.” I simply say. My voice falters.
The tension in the room has grown thicker. A shudder runs through me.
Getting up, Nabila brushes her blonde hair from her shoulders. She looks at me, her smile never wavering. “And you think you deserve that, do you?” she turns her back to me, looking out of the window. “You think you deserve a husband, a life, and friends that cherish you?” she pauses. “Even after all that you have done?”
Theres fifteen seconds of silence, until she turns around. Her smile replaced by a grimace of anger and pain. “Nothing?” she asks. “You have nothing to say for yourself?”
She steps closer, before the door suddenly flies open.
“There’s a call for you Begum Nabila.”
Taking two steps back, she rolls her shoulders and plasters her smile back unto her face. “Very well.”
They leave, without another word. A new guard has taken the chair next to the door. He’s lanky and nervous and his eyes jump around the room, as if he’s expecting a tiger to jump him.
Outside, the sun has set. The darkness is almost impenetrable. But even from the bed, I can see the stars above, clearer than ever before. No light pollution, then.
Despite their beauty, realisation settles heavy in my stomach.
There is no light pollution.
I have nowhere to run to. 

Chapter Text

I’m awoken by the whirring of the coffee machine. It’s a familiar sound and for a heartbeat, my world is right. Slowly I open my eyes. Hoping, that Tilda would lay beside me, reading a book, steaming cup of coffee on the bedside table.
She isn’t.
Must be Gaz, then.
I get to my feet and join my team downstairs. They’re all up - Except Soap, who could sleep through the ends of the earth. I don’t know where Lauren is.
Gaz hands me a steaming mug of coffee and a letter.
“A courier dropped this off for you early this morning.”
I look at it. At first, I think it’s from Kate. More info, perhaps. I tilt my head, opening the letter. In it I find a flash drive and a note.
Play me. I promise I’m not a virus.
Twisting the little plastic device in my hands I hesitate. It looks like a trap.
Peering over my shoulder, Gaz whistles lowly. “We should give it a go.” He says. Taking it from me with a quick swipe of his hand. Giving me no chance to intervene, Gaz has started up the laptop and is plugging in the flash drive. Ghost sidles up next to him, as he clicks on something.
For a second nothing happens. Then, both Gaz and Ghost’s eyes snap up at me.
“Cap…” Gaz murmurs. “You should sit.”
“Just show me the bloody thing.” I growl, already turning the laptop around.
I see her, then. She’s asleep – or, more worryingly unconscious – as a gloved hand caresses her cheek. Tilda doesn’t stir. Laying on her side, her hair dishevelled in her face. I can see no injuries, and her breathing appears calm and deep.
The image zooms back, further into a room. The woman appears next to the bed. She’s sitting on the edge, her lips curled into a smile and her arms crossed before her chest.
“By now you know we have something you love.” She says. “For someone so well trained, it posed no difficulty to get her. I was almost a little disappointed.” She chuckles.
The image sways back to Tilda’s still form.
“At the moment, Mrs. Price is our guest.” The woman says. From her, the words sound like a threat. “To ensure this remains true, we have… Conditions.”
She stands and walks to the top of the bed, taking one of Tilda’s hands into hers. She caresses it for a second, running her fingers along the curve of her hand. It makes my blood boil.
“I expect Samreen Zyani to be released. In addition, I want all files on Al-Qatala.” She smiles at the camera again. “On this flash drive there is a phone number. You’ll contact me as soon as you’ve received this message. I will give you further instructions. Once Samreen has been released, we can negotiate Mrs. Price’s return.” Stepping forward, the camera swerves to have her centred. “You have 24 hours for first contact. Do not delay.”
The video ends suddenly, dropping the screen into black. Staring at the screen for what feels like an eternity, a million thoughts rush through my mind.
Replaying the video, I speed forward, until the camera swerves. The room is large with a big, round, open window to the side. Nothing but blue skies and an ocean of trees outside.
“We need to find out where that is.” I say, pointing at the screen. My voice is shaky, despite trying to keep it calm.
Gaz sidles up next to me gently, pushing me down until I sit on the chair. I have forgotten about the coffee next to me. All I can do is stare at the frozen image of Tilda’s still form on the bed. It reminds me of when-
“It’s not the same.” Ghost tells me.
I look up to meet his gaze. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” Ghost says. His eyes are alight. I’m not sure if its hatred or fear. “We’ll find her.”
We watch and rewatch the video, slowing it down, speeding it up- the glimpse of the woods still didn’t magically tell us where it was. Running different software’s over it, it still seems impossible.
Soap walks in, yawning. “Should’ve woken me up.” He mutters as he grabs his coffee. His gaze flickers unto screen.
“What is that?” He asks, furrowing his brow.
“It’s where Tilly is held.” Ghost replies, his voice tight.
“What do they want?” Soap sits back, still looking at the forest.
“Samreen Zyani.” I sigh, as I rub the back of my neck.
“Well shit.” Soap mutters, leaning over the laptop, restarting the video. “I was hopin’ we won’t have to deal with that mess again.”

My fingers tremble as I slowly dial the number on the flash drive.
It rings only once, until a man picks up.
“I will call her now.” He simply says. My eye flicker to Gaz and Soap, who have everything rigged for surveillance. Our only hope is that they can track the call, at least to a more specific area.
Maybe thirty seconds pass. It’s obvious on Gaz’s face, that the program is working and pinging a-
“Mr. Price.” A woman says into the line. Her accent is heavy but her voice almost purrs. It must be the one from the video. “You have gotten my letter, have you?”
“Where is she?” I ask in return.
“You are so impatient.” She pauses. “I will return her to you. If you get me what I want. It is the least to can do after the pain you have caused my family.”
Furrowing my brow, I want to answer, but she doesn’t let me. “You must value your happy ending.” She murmurs. “Protect it, Mr. Price.”
“Yes.” I simply state.
“Get Samreen free. Then we can discuss further steps.”
“I want to talk to her.” I say, mentally scolding myself for my voice breaking. “Please, I need to know-“
She chuckles, as she interrupts me. “You can talk to her, once you have good news for me, Mr. Price.” I feel like I can hear her smile. “Bye-bye, now, we will talk soon.”
A breath after she’s hung up, we gather around Gaz and Soap.
“Well” he begins, rubbing his chin unhappily. Not daring to meet my eyes. “We have pinpointed it somewhat.”
“To where?” Ghost asks. His eyes are hard, cold and merciless.
Gaz clears his throat. “All of North America.” He mutters quietly.
“All of North America?” Ghosts voice has dipped low.
“Yes.”
“Alright.” I cut in before any of the team can start fighting. “We’ll make our way there and figure out next steps.” Pulling out my phone I start dialling.
“Who you callin’ cap?”
The team looks at me expectantly. As if I have all the answers. As if I know what to do. Clearing my throat, I send them a, hopefully, confident look.
“Laswell.”

The plane is quiet. Soap and Gaz are asleep. Ghost stares out of the window. Neither he nor I say a word, each hanging in our own thoughts. That is, until Ghost changes his seat and plops down next to me hard.
“What did you say to her?” he asks.
Glancing at him, I sigh, deeply. “I told her that she owes Tilda.”
“Does she?”
“Yes.”
We look at each other. “I’m scared.” I tell Ghost. It’s more honest than I usually am. It’s more honest than I’ve been on many an occasion. Probably more honest than I have been to myself.
It takes Ghost a moment to fully grasp what I’ve told him.
“We’ll find her.” He simply states. There’s confidence in his voice. Finality in his words. He believes it. Wholeheartedly.
I rest my eyes in his mask. The familiarity makes my heart go a little slower. I’ve got the best with me.
“She’s tried talking my into adopting a retired military dog.” I mutter, steering the conversation toward the future. “She’s been at it for months.”
Despite the mask I can see Ghost’s confusion in his eyes. “You love dogs” he says. “Why wouldn’t you adopt one?”
I sigh. Every reason I’ve ever told her seems… silly, now. “Because I’m gone too often. Because her Job is demanding, and I’m not there to help her. Because she’s already taking care of all of us whenever we’re not on mission. Because…” my voice trails off. “Because I’m afraid it’ll make her miss what she’s given up.”
“Ah.” Ghost makes. It takes him a good minute or two, to come up with an answer.
“She’s not given up anything.” He finally murmurs. “She’s not regretting leaving the army. After that last mission, she was done.” Ghost meets my gaze. “I think the dog might be a distraction she’s wishing for. A constant in her life, other than us leaving for unknown amounts of time in the blink of an eye.”
Mulling over his words, I try hard not to remember her last mission. It’s a challenge.
Instead of giving in to my thoughts, I clear my throat. “A constant?” I ask instead.
Shrugging, Ghost leans his head back. “Don’t tell me you like leaving her. I fuckin’ hate when Soap’s out my sight for ten seconds. You sometimes don’t see her for weeks.” He pauses. “I think to Tilly it’s about feeling less lonely. Less afraid.” He shrugs again. “All of her favourite people get themselves shot at for a living. Because we do what we do. I can see why she’d like a dog.”
Swallowing empty, I cross my arms before my chest.
“I’m not ready to leave it behind.” I tell him, hating the words as I say them. 
“I know.” Ghost replies. “But she was. She isn’t angry at you. She doesn’t need your pity.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “She’s got your back. Until you’re ready, too.”
A breath of pause. “So, what you’re saying is, we should adopt a dog?”
He shrugs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile. “The 141 does need a mascot.”

Chapter Text

20 months earlier

I’m not sure how many times I’ve checked my gear. But it’s often. I know the contents of my backpack by heart but keeping my hands busy helps keeping the nerves at bay.
Not long ago I had been sleeping peacefully, and now I am here. On my way to a research station in antarctica. Not just any, of course, no, because when Kate calls it’s something over the top. A secret underground station with a steady population of five researchers, had suddenly lost contact, after sending gibberish for a few minutes. What exactly they work with, we weren’t told.
Naturally.
The team beside me is a new one. I’ve never seen any of the soldiers. There four of us; our Captain, Ed Grant, his Lieutenant, Shawn Jones, and a woman my age, Sergeant Elina Burgos.
After the briefing silence ensues. The captain has made it clear that our first priority is to find out what happened; our second is to salvage all information and our third is to help the researchers wherever we can.
So, he knows what’s going one, more so than we do.
Elina sits next to me. She’s checked her guns as often as I’ve checked my medical supplies, and the rhythmic clicking of her gun mixes with the drumming of the chopper.
John is on a mission of his own. They’re due back today. If I’m lucky, and if Kate is in a good mood, he’ll be on my comms. His voice has a way of calming me down immensely.
We set down in the middle of ice and snow. Its almost blinding, as I jump off the chopper, gun drawn, following Grant.
“On me, stay sharp.” He says. His voice is sharp and gruff, making him sound on edge.
The door to the research station is wide open. The air is ice cold, biting into the few exposed parts of my skin.
There aren’t any bodies in the snow, which I believe to be cautiously good.
We enter, one by one, with Grant taking point, and Burgos beside me.
“Dios mio.” She mutters under her breath, already shivering, as we walk down a narrow hallway. “Why did it have to be in the ice?”
“Because it can’t always be the middle east?” I ask her, as we approach a large, metal door.
Elina chuckles next to me.
“Delta-01 for Actual.” Grant says.
“Received. What do you see?” Kate’s voice replies.
“We’re at the main door. Making entry now.”
“Copy. Good luck.”
The comms go silent. Grant turns to the rest of us. “Jones, Burgos, you’re with me. Bellamy, find the researchers and any data along the way.”
“Yes, sir.” I say, with a nod. There must be another thing going on. Why else would he send me alone? I narrow my eyes slightly. The researchers are dead, then. And nobody expects resistance. 
“We don’t know what happened to the researchers. Stay sharp and watch your six.”
With that, he opens the door. It swings open silently, into a dark room. Switching on our lights, we split up.
“Heading down to the main lab, where the last communication was received.” I say with my surroundings becoming darker with each step. 
“Copy. Check in regularly.” Grant replies.
The station is much larger than I anticipated. It looked smaller on the blueprint, but the distances are huge. I cross a lab. To each side are eerily glowing, green and blue lights, barely illuminating maps and containers. Scanning my eyes over them, I furrow my brow.
“Delta-04 for Delta-01”
“Received.”
I look around the packed room. It's cluttered and if there is any sort of reason to it, i cannot see it. “What exact data am I looking for? This lab is jampacked with… Things.”
“We’re looking for blue and red folders. They should be numbered one to fifteen. And a flash drive labelled “591-655-Penguin.”
Stopping in my tracks, my eyes wander over the dozens of red and blue folders.
“Oh boy.” I mutter, to no one. “Copy Delta-01.”
Deciding that human lives were more important, I press on. The Lab I’m looking for is the last one coming up. The door to it is closed, but a large window lets me peek inside the room.
At first, I’m distracted by the chaos. The tables and chairs are overthrown, papers strewn everywhere. The window is splattered with some sort of sticky liquid- it looks like blood but the colour is all wrong.
Then I see one. A person, half hidden under a table. Beside them, I see others. One is draped over a metal table; another seems to be leaning against the back wall.
Cautiously pulling at the door, it doesn’t budge. Even when I use all my weight, the door doesn’t move an inch. Angrily, I kick it.
Contacting my team, I scan the bodies. I don’t think any of the personnel is alive. My suspicion was correct. I don't like it.
Grant answers, sounding slightly out of breath.
“What?” he asks.
“I found the researchers. But the door is locked. I need assistance.”
There’s a pause. It stretches. Until it’s just silence.
“Captain?” I ask. Nothing.
“Delta-04 for Actual.”
“Go.” Kate replies. I turn around, reluctantly leaving the closed door behind.
“I need the last known location of the team. Delta-01 cannot be reached.”
Kate mutters something under her breath. “They were in the Mess Hall. Can you cross the Lab before you?”
“Negative, Actual, door is locked.”
“You’ve gotta go around then. Take a left in the next lab.”
“Understood.”
Making my way through the rooms, I keep trying to reach my team, with no luck.
“Damn it.” I swear loudly, after another attempt. “Answer!”
They don’t. I swear again.
A second after I hear gunshots. It sounds like a vicious gunfight.
“Ah fuck.” Taking off running, I steer toward them.
“Shots fired, shots fired, shots fired. On my way to assist. Unknown assailant.”
Kate replies, but I’m already opening the door toward the shots.
Raising my gun, I step in, ready to defend the team.
What I see makes no sense. They are shooting at one another. Grant and Burgos are on opposite sides of the room, each hunkered down behind a table. Jones lays before me, clutching at his abdomen. Blood seeps between his fingers, yet his free hand still wields a pistol, shots going wide.
I take a deep breath, trying to make sense of things.
After a few seconds I move forward. First I twist the gun from his hands, holstering it. Then, I pull Jones back, out of the room. He groans and yells profanities at me.
“We need to stop them!”
“There is no one to stop.” I reply, huffing at how heavy he is. “What has gotten into you?”
“You fucker are trying to get them killed!”
Laying him on his back, around the corner, I stuff his wound with sterile gauze. He tries to claw at my face, muttering under his breath. The gunshots still ring out.
I don’t understand why they’re shooting at one another.
But I understand even less why they keep missing.
Flickering my gaze back at the open door, I freeze.
My voice is shaky and only just above a whisper. “Delta-04 to Actual.”
“How copy?”
“Found the team. They are shooting at one another.” Tears are welling up in my eyes, my breath hitches. Getting to my feet, my entire being shakes, like leaves in a storm. “We need a Medevac as soon as possible.”
“Medevac deployed. What’s happening?”
I take a step back when I hit a table behind me. “They are seeing things.”
“How do you know?” Kate asks. “Damnit, Bellamy, what is happening?”
“Because...” My voice breaks, my eyes watering.
“Because I…” The words trail off, as I keep staring at my brother in the doorway. He’s covered in blood, holding a knife. My mother stands behind him, a sinister grin on her face.
Watching my family step toward me. Their faces are twisted, bloodied, with threat oozing from them. My heart speeds up, angrily thumping against my ribcage.
“I’m seeing things, too” I say into the silence.

Chapter Text

Two days pass in a blur. The guards keep changing, the food arrives on time, I never get cutlery on the tray, the magazines change, the sun sets and rises.
On that second evening, I sit on the bed. I’ve tried to find a way to escape. However, certain factors have stopped me so far.
It’s rather cool outside. I clock it at around 15 degrees Celsius during the day, and half that during at night. There is a thin jacket and a jersey in the chest of drawers, though, which might help.
Still, there are no shoes to be found. Judging by the terrain I can see; I will need shoes. Sturdy ones, at that.
Plus, the guards. Two keep mostly to themselves, but one sits at the foot of my bed, rather than by the door. Staring at me. Almost unblinking. It makes me shiver. Sometimes I catch him hungrily lick his lips when he stares at me. It keeps me up most nights.
Absentmindedly, I skim a magazine, while the Day-guard stares out the window. His radio crackles alive with mumbled words.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “Dinner is ready. I can bring it to you, before I leave.”
He smiles at me. Every day, when he arrives, he makes sure the other two haven’t hurt me. It’s a strange trust that has built between us. One formed of necessity and proximity. But I’ll take it. Even if I don’t know his name.
“Thank you.” I say, as I put the magazine down. I have a few minutes before he’ll be back. With a few steps across the cool stone floor, I lean against the window frame. The sun shines brightly as it sets. Dousing the trees in warm colours. I’m not sure what I hope to find when I look- but I haven’t found it yet.
The guard enters, handing me the tray. “I have another thing for you. I’ll be right back.”
Setting down the tray, I scan it. In stunned surprise, I find a sharp knife and a fork on it.
Someone has screwed up.
Finally.
I grab them fast, hiding in the pockets of my jersey. My heart pounds, but I lean back and breathe calmly.
Ten seconds later, the guard enters with a huge smile.
“This came a few weeks ago, I thought you might get a kick out of it.”
Furrowing my brow, I look at the new magazine.
ALASKA it says on it. The cover is ice and a tent under the aurora borealis. I lift my eyes to the guard.
“Thank you” I whisper, my mind racing. 
This fuck up seems too great. It can’t just have-
“Enjoy your meal. Second guy is here.” While saying that, he hands me cutlery. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yes.” I mutter. I watch them as the guard’s turnover, silently eating. My thoughts are racing. If it was a mistake from the guard, it was a big one. If he tried to help me, I’m not sure I can trust him.
But I know one thing. Chances like this don’t come too often.

Patiently I wait for the third guard, pretending to be asleep. He’s the one I’ve never talked to, and incidentally, the skinniest one out of the three. I’m well aware that it doesn’t mean it’ll be the easiest target, but perhaps he’ll underestimate me more than I do him.
As every night, he sits down at the foot of my bed. Giving it about an hour, I begin stirring.
Stretching with a yawn, I open my eyes, roaming them around the room, until they settle on the guard. Pretending to get a fright, I sit up.
“Didn’t mean’ta startle ya.” He says, his words slipping from his mouth as if they were molasses.
I don’t reply for a moment. Instead, I swing my legs from the bed. Holding his gaze, I stand.
“I’m cold.” I tell him, grabbing the jersey from the drawer, in its pockets the knife is still hidden. As I put it on, I make my way to the bathroom.
Aware of his eyes glued to me, I close the door behind me.
If I am correct, I have about thirty seconds before he strides in.
After I flush the unused toilet, I begin washing my hands and then, finally douse my face in the cold water. It refreshes my senses.
The moment I shut off the water, the door behind me opens.
His smile is malicious, leaving little doubt about his intent.
But I’m ready for him.
Turning, with my back to the sink, I meet his gaze, widening my eyes in mock-fear.
“I thought you might like company.” He says.
Sleazebag.
A moment later, he leans forward, one hand perched against the wall.
With a quick, hard jab at his elbow, he yelps in pain, before I grab the back of his head, and smash it down, hard, into the sink.
He goes down with a groan, struggles for a short moment and he’s out cold.
Having no time to hesitate, I search his clothes with gentle movements. The key is at his belt, next to a radio. I take them both. If anything, I’ll be able to listen to them and evade them. With practiced ease, I pull him into the stable lateral position.
Then, I check his shoes. They’re a size too big, but sturdy and beggars can’t be choosers.
I pull them off and leave the bathroom. Shutting the door and securing it with the chair, I start gathering what I need for my escape.
It isn’t much. Clothes mostly, to keep me warm, two bottles of water, the knife, and the two magazines.
I stuff it all into a makeshift bag, made of knotted up yoga pants.
Then, I turn to the door. I unlock it, step outside, and take good care to lock it double on the way out. If I wanted to make it outside, I had better be as stealthy as I could. No guns blazing this time. Not that I have any guns to blaze.
The hallway outside the room is empty and dark. No windows; no lights. The only sound were my steps echoing against the wall.
Luckily the layout of the house is simple. The stairs lead straight down to the floors below, and I waste no time looking around the upper floors.
I do, however peek around corners and into the rooms on the ground floor. On my third attempt, I seem to have found somewhat of a control centre.
To my great surprise it’s empty. Noone in it and on the screen a screensaver bounced. I take my chance and walk up to them, slightly moving a mouse.
The screens light up like Time’s square. There are files, security footage, an active stream from somewhere- I struggle to take the information all at once. After a few seconds, I’ve made sense of what I see.
The files are on Al Qatala. I’m moderately surprised, until I see a picture sticky-taped to the rim of the screen.
Nabila, in front of a mosque- and her arms tightly slung around Samreen. They both smile brightly at the camera. We didn’t get them all then. Fantastic.
I… curse… you
Tearing my gaze from the picture, I try to gauge exactly where the cameras are. Outside, all of them. Getting past them unseen seems impossible. On one of the cameras there are two guards patrolling. Getting past them, however, would be easy. Maybe I can cause I distraction, somehow. They move slowly though, their guns holstered and looking bored. Raising my brows, I don’t believe I’ll need a distraction.
I turn the screens off. I’ll need to cover quite the distance tonight.
With quick fingers, I open an online e-mail account and send a few short sentences to my mother. They won’t make sense to her. Which means she’ll ask either Kate or John, and both should understand.
After the message is sent, I delete the account and shut off the screens.
It’s time to leave.

With slow, deliberate movements, I sneak around the walls of the house. It seems larger from the outside. An ugly thing, all concrete, and there aren’t any roads leading to it, nor is there any sort of vehicle nearby. Judging by the square build of the house there is a helipad on the roof. 
I hear the guards chatting easily amongst one another as they walk over the soft forest ground. Peeking around the corner, I smile to myself.
They’re turned away from me, strolling slowly.
Taking my chance without hesitation, I quickly and quietly cross the small space from the house into the treeline. I want to start sprinting, but with only the stars and moon lighting up the night sky, I’m dipped into almost complete darkness. It’s as if the trees have swallowed me whole. It’ll take me a short while until my eyes are used to it.
After a few meters, I begin turning in a long curve. The camera would have filmed my escape- this way I could throw them off at least a little.I keep moving, taking each step consciously. I want to find water, a stream. Following it downstream will inevitably bring me to civilisation. 
The further I move from the house, the quieter it becomes. There’s rustling in the trees and wood breaking beneath my feet.
Keeping my pace, I never turn around. The clear sky above lights my way enough for me not to trip or walk in circles. It’s hard to keep track of time. I could have been walking for an hour, or four, or ten minutes. The familiar Ache from wearing the wrong shoes over a long stretch of time sets in just as I hear a murmur from the radio.
I pull it from my pocket and lift it closer to my face, not breaking my stride.
“Open the goddamn door, man. What’s wrong with you?” I hear. “It’s shift change. Did you fall asleep?”
Speeding up my steps, I swallow empty. Not long now until they’ll notice.
“Fine, have it your way. I’ll go grab the spare keys. Boss won’t be none too happy.”
Having no choice but letting it play out, I watch the sun rise between the trees. Its beautiful, with the cold air surrounding me and the forest around me awakening. I focus on the peace I feel, taking step by step in the undergrowth, until the radio crackles alive again.
“Everyone up!” the voice yells. “She’s escaped. Find her. Find her now.”

Chapter Text

Kate looks pale. Guilty perhaps, but I think that is just wishful thinking. She’s not come to the runway, instead she’s called us to her office upon arrival, despite it being very early. Sunrise isn’t far off.
I leave Ghost and Soap outside, taking only Gaz with me.
When we enter, Kate looks up, but doesn’t move.
“John.” She says. “Sergeant Garrick.”
“Laswell.” I reply, coldly. Theres an emotion on her face I can't quite pinpoint, when she hears me saying her last name. 
Silence stretches between us, as I hold her gaze. Next to me, Gaz leans against the wall. My phone rings into the silence, the ringtone cutting through the room like a knife. Hanging up swiftly, I don’t look at the screen.
Kate sighs. “Al Qatala, is it?” she asks.
Furrowing my brow, I nod, slowly, as my phone rings again. I glance at it. It’s Tilda’s mum, but I do not have the time or patience for her right now. I hang up.
“I can give you the files.” Kate says. “I have them here. It’ll be harder to convince anyone of giving up Samreen for a civilian.”
“She’s not just a civilian though, is she?” Gaz mutters. Anger rolls off him in waves. “She’s a highly decorated Veteran for both British and American army. One that you have chosen personally for a multitude of high stakes missions.”
Flickering her gaze to Gaz, Kate presses her lips together closer.
“It’s not up to me, Gentlemen.” She finally says.
My phone rings again, again with Tilda’s mother. I hang it up.
Kate and I stare at each other, unblinking.
“Lauren will never forgive you.” I state. It’s a low blow. An unfair one, probably, but I do not care. “And neither will Tilda.”
Kate blinks twice. “You’re right.” She says. “And I will have to-“
My phone rings again. I angrily huff, as I finally pick it up.
“Yes, Portia?”
“John, finally. Are you dodging my calls?” Portia says. “I can’t reach Mathilda.”
Flickering my gaze to Gaz, I nod. “She’s busy.” I lie. “What is it?”
“She’s sent me a weird E-Mail.” Portia mumbles. “Really inconvenient time for the ding too. Oscar was just busy playing with his friends, it could have disturbed him, you know? I think he’ll make great strides soon. The new specialist – did I tell you about him? – Believes he might start talking by the end of the month.”
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I keep my voice calm. “Tilda sent you an E-Mail?” I ask her, energy surging through me. “When?”
“Just now, maybe an hour ago? The girl knows better than to disturb when I have an appointment with Oscar though, doesn’t she? I’m appalled that she forgot.”
I put her on speaker. “What’s the E-Mail say?” I ask her. “Read it to me.”
Kate and Gaz both look at the phone.
“I don’t really have time to-“
“Portia!” I interrupt her. “Please.”
“Fine, no need to be rude, John.” She mumbles under her breath, and we hear her rummage around on her phone. “Here. It’s gibberish.” She mutters.
“Mama, there is no light pollution, and the girl cannot lie to me again. I’m not cold, and when I walk, I hope I keep just as warm. I don’t carry, but I have all I need. It is like that time where Dad thought he could swim with penguins, but not quite. If you can, remember to follow the stream. I’ll be there.”
Portia huffs. “Didn’t even ask how her brother was doing, isn’t that crazy? She’s so inconsiderate.” she mutters something again before she speaks clearly. “I must go. Tell her not to send me weird things when she knows that I’ll be busy, yes?”
“I will.” I nod. “Can you forward me the E-Mail?”
“When I have time.” She answers, before she hangs up, without a goodbye.
Gaz and I look at one another. “She’s escaped.” He smiles. “Of course, she did.” He cracks his neck. “She’s unarmed though, reckon she’ll be able to keep out of trouble?”
I nod once, before I level with Kate. “Did her father ever try and swim with penguins?” I ask her.
She furrows her brow. “Not that I know of.” she says slowly. Then her eyes stare past me.  “However…” Kate rubs her chin. “There was a mission once when we both were young. He thought we might see penguins, but we didn’t.” she chuckles to herself. “He was so sad, because he had promised a tiny Tilly, he’d take pictures.” Kate looks at me. “It was in Alaska.”
“Gaz.” I say, and the younger man springs into action, already off to grab Ghost and Soap. Kate and I pull up a map of Alaska on the screen behind her.
“The area is too large to search.”
“For now.” I reply.
The boys enter back into the room. Getting them up to speed, Gaz begins setting up his laptop. “We can call the number again. With new parameters I’ll be able to pinpoint the location.”
“Are you sure?” Ghosts asks, standing behind him.
Gaz looks up. “No. But it’s my best guess.”
I look at Kate. “If we’re lucky we don’t need Samreen. But we will need Transport and additional manpower.” I gesture at the map. “Too much empty space to cover for us.”
Kate leans back. “I’ll try.” She hums.
“You’ll try?”
“Yes.” She shoots back. “That’s all I can do. Get me results. If I can sell it as capturing the new Al Qatala leader, we might be lucky.”
Gaz hands me the phone. “No time like the present.”

In the end, Kate was able to sell it. While the men and women beside me in the chopper were here to storm and secure the building; it was a start. They would aide in the search if we asked them to.
The House was the only one in the area. There were no streets leading to it, not even hiking trails. How it had gotten to be there no one was sure, for now.
The phone call had been short. I told them we had Samreen, that she was well, that we wanted to trade, but the woman had not believed me. She told me Tilda would pay the price for my lie-
But Gaz had already pinpointed the phone call to a remote area of Wrangell St. Elias National Park. There wasn’t meant to be anything here but woods, ice, and wildlife. The house was nestled in a forest, up on a hill. Surrounding it was nothing but wilderness.
In ordinary circumstances I would have enjoyed the view.
There were Fifteen of us storming the compound. Ghost ran point on one flank- I did the other.
There were only four guards around the house and two more inside. We enter the building with no shots fired. Th guards are clearly terrified of us. This cannot be it. This is too easy.
“Where’s your leader?” I demand of one of the guards, a gun to his temple. He’d surrendered as soon as he’d seen us coming. “Tell me!”
He grits his teeth to a grin. “She’s gone.” He hisses. “Gone after the prisoner.”
Grabbing him tighter, I fight the urge to do unspeakable things.
“Cap, we found the command centre.” Soap interrupts me, marching toward us. “We found evidence of’er.”
I let go of the man with a huff. “Show me.”
She’s done well, my wife. Left without being spotted and leaving behind only one injured soldier. He’d still been nursing his injuries when we’d entered the building. His arm is broken, and the bump on his head would leave a nasty headache for a while to come.
The security footage is grainy, but clear enough to see exactly what she did. I watch her creep behind two guards toward the forest. I check my watch.
She’s got a fifteen-hour head start. We speed up the tape. For two hours, nothing happens. Then, sudden movement and rapid activity explodes around the compound. We can see how many have followed her, into the treeline.
“There are twelve on her heels, sir. Heavily armed and trained better than these clowns.” Soap says, gesturing back at the guards. “Looks like she headed east.”
“She didn’t” I say. “She would have turned around once she was out of view.”
“I agree.” Ghost nods. “She could be anywhere.”
We look at each other for a moment. “We’re splittin’ up aren’t we” Soap groans.
“Yes.” I nod. “We each take a direction with three soldiers with us. We’ll have the chopper survey the area. If we’re lucky we can spot her there.” I look at the men around me. “Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. It’ll start getting dark soon. Let’s hustle and get her back.”
Soap and Gaz take off. Ghost remains beside me for a moment longer. “How you doing, cap?” he asks me, quietly.
“Fine.” I answer, too quickly. A breath of pause. “I’ll be better when she’s back.”
Ghost nods. “There are things other than her captors in these woods.” He tells me. Our eyes meet.
“She can handle it.” I say, my voice wavering the slightest bit. She’s unarmed. Possibly injured.
“I’m just…” he pauses. “We need to be ready. This isn’t like the last time. This isn’t even like the arctic.”
I see the worry in his gaze. I hear it when he speaks. “We are getting her back, Simon.” I say, slowly.
We turn to leave. “Alright” he says, exhaling. “Alright.”

Chapter Text

20 months earlier

The rational part of my brain knows that what I’m seeing is so far from the truth, it might as well be a movie. But seeing them makes me shiver.
My brother holds the bloody knife up at me. “Come ‘ere, sis.” He tells me. “Let’s play.”
I breathe heavily, trying to disentangle truth from lie. It’s hard.
“Bellamy!” I hear Kate’s voice distorted. Far away but right in my ear. “Focus!”
Blinking twice, my brother steps over Jones. The soldier’s hands flail right through my brother.
It stirs something in me. Oscar isn’t really here. He’s home. It’s all in my mind.
“Bellamy!”
“Y-Yes.” I stutter, my eyes still transfixed on my family. They’re not real. They aren’t-
“Report!” Kate demands, louder.
I step forward, my eyes fixed on Jones. I was bandaging him, that was what I had been doing. My brother isn’t real. I can still help the team.
“They’re still shooting at one another.” I say. My voice is quivering, but I pass my brother with my head held high. He swipes his knife at me, but nothing happens. Crouching down next to Jones, I continue where I left off. Despite my trembling hands and shivering breath, I press on.
“How far off is Evac?” I ask.
“Ten minutes. What about the others?” Kate says. Her voice is tight.
I glance at the room. The shots seem to have mostly ceased. Instead, there is now shouting, words which’s meaning I cannot quite grasp.
“I’ll… I’ll check.” I tell her, as I finish the bandage on Jones’ body. He’s gone nearly silent, staring daggers at me.
Getting to my feet shakily, I grab the gun. My brother hovers beside me.
“You’ve let them die, sis.” He says. “It’s on you.”
Peering into the room, I see Grant and Burgos still on opposite sides of the room. Grant is awake, gesturing wildly as he mutters, mostly to himself. Burgos sits limply leaning against the desk, blinking dazedly.
“Burgos is down, unknown cause.” I tell Kate.
“She’s dead because of you.” Oscar adds, from my left.
I don’t mind him. “Actual, please advise.”
There is a long stretch of pause.
“Delta-04 we need you to find the data.” She says. “It’s of utmost importance to find the flash drive labelled 591-655-Penguin. Its last known location is in the Lab in front of you. Far back Computer.”
My foggy mind races. Somewhere buried deep in my mind, I know I shouldn’t linger. I know I should get my team out and never look back.
“Delta-04, I order you to retrieve the flash drive!” Kate barks. “Mission cannot end without it.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Understood.”
Stepping into the room, the air instantly feels heavier. I need to get Burgos out first. Grant seems fine where he is.
I pull the woman up, and across the room. Grant yells at us, trying to get to his feet, but he can’t.
Once Burgos lays on the ground next to Jones, I quickly check her vitals. Her pulse is fast, but steady. I think she’s having a nightmare.
Then, I head back into the room. Grant is still sputtering insults, which I think is a good sign. Uneasiness tugs at the back of my mind, but I start feeling more lightheaded with each breath.
“He’s dying” Oscar tells me. “You should check on him. You’re abandoning him.”
“Shut up.” I mutter, as I cross the room. There’s dozens of Computers and filing cabinets. There’s lab equipment and half of it is in shambles.
“You’re gonna fail them.” I hear my mother’s voice. “You’re gonna disappoint them, like you always do.”
At the far back of the room, there is a computer that sits on a platform. Its only slightly raised, but it seems to me like it belonged to someone important.
I sit heavily down on the chair and take a deep breath.
My hands almost move on their own accord, searching for the small device. It’s not plugged in, nor somewhere on the desk.
“Evac is 7 minutes out. We got delayed.” Kate tells me. “Delta-04 what’s your status?”
“I’m searching for your Flash drive” I reply, quietly. “Burgos and- and- Jones are still out.” I glance up. “Grant is screaming bloody murder.”
“Are you still seeing things?” She asks me.
I look up. Oscar hovers to my left, my mother beside him. The knife has vanished; the creepy grins remain.
“Yes.” I take a shuddering breath. “Must be some kind of gas.” Deftly, I pull out a drawer. “It knocked Burgos out, I think. Which means I’m searching on borrowed time.”
Kate doesn’t reply. Not that I expect her to.
Rummaging through the drawer, I find three red folders. On them it says Penguin and a barrage of seemingly random numbers. It’s not the flash drive, but it’s a start. I stash them in my backpack, pulling at the last drawer.
It’s locked. Of course, it is.
“You’ll fail them. You’ll fail Kate. You’ll fail John.” My mother whispers to me. “They will all die, because of you. You’re so selfish, Mathilda. Such a selfish, selfish, child.”
I pull at it harder, gaining more pressure by perching my legs against the desk.
“You’re not worth the air you breathe, Mathilda.” Oscar says, appearing in front of me. “Burgos is dead. You killed her.”
Giving the drawer another hefty pull, it springs open. I fly back, falling to the ground with a thump. A soft cry of pain escapes me, and I remain on the ground dazed for a heartbeat. The room around me has begun spinning, and there are more things here that don’t belong.
Seven crows sit in the back of the room. A Seal hops across the room. Oscar stands before me. From somewhere, my mother chides me.
I push myself up. No time to linger. I’ve pulled the drawer completely from the desk and its contents have sprawled over the floor.
The flash drive sits in between coins and paperclips. It feels like an insignificant thing, when I pick it up and stow it beside the files.
“I found the drive.” I tell Kate, slowly pushing myself up from the desk.
“Well done. Get your team together and get out.” Kate replies. I peer over at Grant. He’s gone silent and I can’t see his hands wave anymore. An uncomfortable feeling rushes through my veins.
“He’s dead.” Oscar whispers.
I don’t want to give him any mind, but I do. The team is now my responsibility.
Grant has slumped over, his chin on his chest, when I crouch down beside him, giving his shoulder a shake. He doesn’t stir. I try again, harder.
The captain topples over, threatening to fall flat on his face, until I catch him.
“Shit.” I swear, as I turn him over and check his pulse and breathing. There isn’t one.
Instantly I pull open his jacket and rip at his shirt.
“Captain’s down.” Say, loudly, beginning CPR. “No breathing- no heartbeat.”
I confidently know I can keep solo-CPR up for twelve minutes. I’ve done it before, longer even, out of desperation, but twelve minutes should be ample time for the Evac team to get here.
“I’m in the Lab- Pin my location- for Medevac.”
Actual doesn’t reply. I give Grant air for the first time, before going back to massaging his heart. I feel faint, but I keep going, breathing shallowly with each thrust on his chest. I feel Oscar hovering beside me. “I told you.” He repeats in a singsong, cackling.
“Actual- Respond- CPR- Ongoing.” My hair falls into my face. “What’s- your- ETA?”
I stop to check his breathing. Still nothing.
Swearing under my breath, I pick it back up. “Actual!”
“Medevac is inbound, Delta-04” It’s not Kate. It’s a different voice. A man. I don’t believe I know him.
“Captain – Grant’s – been – down for- “ I give him to breaths of air, before I groan as I take it back up. “A few - minutes now.” I gasp for air. “Please - hurry – Actual.”
There’s another short pause. “Medevac won’t enter the compound, Delta -04.”
“What?” I ask, thinking I didn’t hear him right. I feel ribs breaking under my touch, the crack goes through me like lightning.
“Medevac will not enter compound. All members of the team must exit the structure.”
Without stopping, I look up at Burgos and Jones. The woman’s sitting up, holding her head. Jones is still down. If I’m lucky the bandage has held.
“Actual- Please repeat.” I mutter. I’m sure I’ve heard him wrong. Giving Grant two more breaths, I check his pulse. Nothing. I stare at him, feeling my limbs getting heavy, I pick it up again. Sweat runs down my face, my lungs feel tight. Breathing is a struggle. It’s not been twelve minutes. I can do it.
“Leave the compound, Delta-04.” Actual says.
“Negative - Actual.”
“It’s an order.”
I want to yell at him. Make him see that I won’t walk away, that he cannot expect me to leave behind a dying man, that Grant can make it, if Evac comes here-
But I’m out of air. I need it all to keep going.
I can do it. It’s not been twelve minutes yet.
“Oscar told you he’s dying, Mathilda.” My mother hisses in front of me. “You have failed him.” She grins, her fingertips brushing against my sweaty cheek. “You’re nothing. Nothing at all.”
She runs her ice-cold hand down my jaw and lingers on my neck.
There seems to be a moment of hesitation, where I stare at her, and she grins at me, before she suddenly and violently wraps her hand around my neck. Instantly I choke, taking my hands from Grant’s chest and clawing at her.
It does nothing- it can’t, she’s not real- but no air floods my lungs. I tilt to the side, falling hard next to Grant. I feel tears prick at my eyes, as I fight for a shuddering breath of air.
“Delta-04!” I hear Actual. I’m not sure if I make any noise as I choke, but if I do, he’ll let me die here, just like the captain.
“Delta-04!” he repeats. “Report to exit. We need that flash drive!”
Looking up at my mother, her hand still tightly clenched around my neck, I try to gasp for air.
“It’ll be easier with only your brother, Mathilda.” She purrs.
“So much easier.”

Chapter Text

It’s almost peaceful when the forest around me awakes. The sun is rising, the first rays breaking through the trees. I breathe a sigh of relief. Despite the moon and stars; the darkness had been almost oppressive. I’d gotten turned around in the forest, coming past the same markers at least three times, before I found the river. It’s to my left, and it makes navigating easier.
Its wide and the current is strong, the trees on either side making it hard to stay directly beside it. The riverbank is about five meters below me; the river having carved out a path amongst the rock and earth. The air is frigid on my skin, making me shiver. Fog hangs low in the trees, and the earth beneath my feet is moist.
At some point during the night, the radio had gone quiet. Presumably they had noticed that I had one with me. I’m sure they’re combing the area for me, but considering just how large scale everything is, I think my chances could be reasonable. As long as I keep out of sight and remain uninjured, I can make it to civilisation. Won’t be pleasant, but I can do it.
Taking a deep breath, I duck under a low hanging branch. The instant I’m crouched down, somewhere in the forest around me is a loud snap of a tree branch. Freezing into place, I hold my breath.
Except the knife I have no weapons. If I’m being hunted by my captors, I’d literally bring a knife to a gunfight. Unless I can outsmart them, I stand little chance of coming out on top.
Staying rooted in place, crouched under low hanging tree branches, I hold my breath and listen.
Nothing. It’s quiet.
Glancing up carefully, I try to assess where the sound has come from. A few meters to my right, stands a moose.
It towers over the landscape, its antlers fanning out terrifyingly. I don’t move, don’t even dare to breathe, as I stare at it, slowly making its way through the forest. Its threateningly beautiful.
It strikes me, just how far away from help I am. If it decides I’m a threat-
“-Never find her, searching like this.” A voice cuts through the trees. “It’s unreasonable.”
“Stop your moping.” A second voice says. Their steps are heavy. The moose turns its head, flicking its ears. I hear it huff.
Trying to move closer to the tree beside me, I sink down to me knees completely.
“She can’t have gone too far.” The first voice says again. “She’s never been-“ The steps and voices stop. I see them. They’re heavily armed.
It’s almost comical, wtaching them freeze, staring at the moose, fear etched into their features. The Beast looks even less thrilled. Its ears still tucked back, it huffs and lifts its head, as it stomps the ground. Even if I know nothing about moose, it looks threatening. Fear tugs at the back of my mind, and I lower myself closer over the ground. If it doesn’t spot me, I won’t have to think about the next steps.
The men and the moose still stare at each other in frozen awe, when slowly, oh so slowly, one of them pulls his handgun from its holster.
“Easy does it…” He says, quietly. “Easy…”
Obviously not caring, the moose stomps once more and takes a few steps toward them. It’s enough to make them panic.
They explode in activity. Gunshots ring out, as they jump back, and the startled moose charges at them. The speed and power it’s able to conjure, makes me shiver. Jumping out of the way, both men start shooting their guns at the moose. It seems to only make it angrier, as it throws its head toward one of them.
I hear the loud thud, followed by his scream. Some part of me wants to help them; but I am not sure how I would even begin doing that. Instead, I press myself closer to the ground. Running could draw attention to me. It’s the last thing I want.
Bullets fly wildly through the forest and the noise coming from the angry beast is almost otherworldly. One of the men is down; the moose stomping on him hard. Bones crush and his strangled cries suddenly stop.
The second man seems determined to save his buddy, pulling the assault rifle from his side, replacing the handgun. A salve of shots echoes through the quiet forest and with a last cry, the moose falls forward.
Intense, heavy silence falls over the scene. I don’t dare moving.
“Andy?” the man asks, as he slowly inches toward his fallen friend. “Andy?”
His voice wavers, quivers. “Andy!”
It’s as if a well breaks. I hear him beg and bargain, pleading with his companion. He pulls at the moose to give him more room, shaking Andy with gentle force.
I get up slowly. If I make a run for it now, I’ll be long gone by the time he’s caught himself.
“Andy, please.” The man’s voice makes me shudder. I take a step away from them.
“You can’t leave me-“ his voice cuts off with heavy sobs. My heart aches.
John’ll have my head for it, I know he will.
But I find I do not care.
Turning around, I speed my steps up, already mentally taking stocks of things I have that could help the men. The list is scarily short.
Only once I’ve crouched down next to them, does he notice me. Theres a moment of pure horror on his face, and I can see him contemplating getting his gun.
“You can shoot me, or we can help Andy.” I glance at him. “Your choice.” I lower my gaze.
Andy looks horrible. His left leg is a bloody mess. Just above his ankle, white bone sticks from the skin. Across his abdomen is blood; but I’m not sure if it’s his or the animals. There’s a distinct bump on his head, that’s already turning black and blue.
“Give me your emergency pack.” I tell the man. My fingers already nimbly working on Andy’s vest. He might’ve been lucky, and it absorbed most of the blow on his chest.
I feel the guy’s gaze on me. “But-“
Our eyes meet. “I can only help him with gear. I have none.”
Tense seconds pass, before the man finally moves and takes off his backpack. The pack is small, consisting mostly out of gauze, hand sanitizers and gloves. Pulling on the blue plastic, I reassess.
There is faint pulse on the foot; which means it’s not the first thing I deal with, only covering it lightly. His abdomen is bruised, and a few of his ribs are broken, there might even be one that’s free floating. It’s not great, but there’s little I can do. He’s out cold, having a definite concussion.
“Is he- is he…?”
“He’s not dead.” I mutter, as I investigate the bump. I gently feel for a break. I don’t think there is one. Relieved, I take a breath.
Having made sure, he’s not dying under my hands I focus back to the leg. If I set it, at least somewhat, the risk of infection will be much smaller. And even if he wakes, and moves the leg, the shift won’t affect the foot.
Quickly but carefully, I take off his shoe and sock before I rip open the pant. The sight is nauseating. The white bone a stark contrast to the dark-red skin.
“Hold him down.” I say, as I get into position. “It’s likely he’ll be in immense pain.”
“Why?”
Pointing at the bone I glance up. “That needs to be on the inside.”
He leans over his companions and holds his shoulders down, as he swallows empty. Taking three big breaths, I pull at the foot, hard and fast.
The bone slides in, with a sound that makes my stomach churn, and Andy screams, fighting to sit up.
His friend instantly shushes him, trying to soothe him as best as he can.
“It’s okay.” He murmurs. After the first surge of pain, Andy settles back down, panting heavily, sweat running down his face. His eyes roam the area, until they settle on me in confusion.
Covering the wound with gauze, I place a loose bandage around it. Then, I relax back on my heels.
“He’ll need a doctor.” I say, taking off the gloves. “And soon.”
Andy looks blearily at me, his eyes glazed over by pain and confusion. Checking his pupils again, I nod, mostly to myself.
“Keep him awake, and make sure he’s seen by the medic or doctor or whatever you guys have. Understood?”
“Yes.” The man nods. A heartbeat of silence later, his hands tightened around Andy, he bites his lower lip. “Why’d you help us?”
“Cause I’m no monster.” I reply, getting up. Turning to leave, I half expect to be stopped. I brace myself for the impact-
“They came for you. Your team.” He says, gently. A smile tugs at my lips.
“I promise to always come to your aid. To have you back, to support your plans, to be the partner you’ve always wished for.” John looks down on me, his gaze the softest I’ve ever seen. “For as long as I live, you’ll never walk alone.”
“The house was raided. If you can evade Nabila and her hounds, you’ll be able to leave.” The man tells me.
Looking back over my shoulder, I nod.
“Thank you.”
I’m about to vanish into the trees when I hear it. More footsteps. Commands, shouts. I’m not surprised, it had been quite the ruckus, and with Andy’s scream, all chances of remaining hidden had dropped close to zero.
Even though the second I hear them, I take off sprinting, I’m not fast enough. The shots hitting the trees and ground beside me. Dirt splatters over me; woodchips scratch at my skin, while I keep zigzagging through the trees.
“Get her!” I hear from behind me. Not daring to look back, I try to come up with a plan.
The river roars on my left, the water white and angry. On my right, only trees- and shooting goons.
I swear as I vault over a fallen tree, a second before its shredded by gunfire. Ducking, I realise I’m out of choices and I steer off to the left.
I’ve no clue if the water is deep enough to catch my fall; I’ve no idea where the river leads; I’ve no idea how cold it is. It’s stupid, but it’s my only chance.
Speeding up more, take a leap over the edge.
The fall itself feels as if time stands still. The second stretches, as the water approaches slowly. For a moment, I wonder if I can turn back, but I can still hear the shots buzzing by me.
Tucking in my arms, I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
The water is ice-cold and feels like a hammer beating me. It knocks the wind from me, as it pulls me under and sweeps me away. I tumble, and opening my eyes I’m not sure where up and down is. Needles prick painfully at my skin, as I will my limbs to move.
With a strong stroke toward the light, I break through the surface and take a gasping breath before I’m pulled back under.
The rivers force is strong, relentlessly pulling me with it. I slam into a boulder, my right side screaming in pain. I’m desperately trying to hold on, but it’s slippery. Taking three deep breaths before I’m swept away, I catch a glimpse of the blue sky above- before my back crashes into another stone. Forcing the air from my lungs, I slip under the water, as my gaze becomes blurry. Fighting it with all my strength, I break through the surface, coughing, gulping for air. In front of me, a dead tree appears.
Its still rooted in soil but hangs into the water, completely at its mercy. I crash into the tree at full force, the water threatening to pull me under, but I hold on. Pulling myself up as best I can, I find myself half laying, half holding on to the tree, coughing water. After a few minutes, I begin taking slow, deep breaths. It’s hard to hear anything over the water, and my body resists me, when I try to look around. The trees are thicker here, swallowing more of the light. I try to look over my shoulder, but with the water relentlessly pushing against my body, I can’t. Incredible tiredness spreads through my numbing body. The needles now replaced by dull ache.
Instead of fighting, I rest my head against the wet tree, closing my eyes, just for a moment.
Just… a moment.

Chapter Text

If it hadn’t been for the shots, we would have never found her. I knew just how bad my plan was, when we stood around the map, looking at the enormity of the area we would be searching. I saw it in Gaz’s eyes and heard it in Ghost’s voice. Even Soap seemed unconvinced, which was a novelty.
“We’ll search forever, cap.” He tells me. “There must be a better way.”
“Name it.” I challenge him.
After all, I am a stubborn man.
So, we had started searching. An hour in, I begrudgingly admitted to myself, that my team had been right. It’s no surprise that we find ourselves as one, despite branching off in different directions, following the one big river in the area. I’m informed that it’s the only one, that leads to a settlement.
Soap and Gaz are on the other side of the stream, while Ghost sidles up to me.
“All our eggs in one basket, sir?”
“It’s our best bet.” I reply, before I give the command for the soldiers to walk faster. “She’s smart. She knows we’re coming for her.”
“She also knows they are.” Ghost replies, as he cocks his rifle, and rolls his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
We hike downstream mostly in silence. The sun hasn’t yet risen, but it will soon, with the first rays breaking across the faraway mountains. Even if she has a head start, without the proper gear, she can’t have made much headway, or so I hope. She’s resourceful, of course, but she also has no lay of the land. She might’ve gotten turned around or-
I twirl her for our first dance and watch her face light up. It’s a marvel. That she’s chosen me. That she’s supporting my career. That she is there, when I return, each and every time. I gather her in my arms, before we fall back into step. She’s my favourite dance partner, and especially now, as she’s mine, I enjoy it more.
She laughs, with the music speeding up.
I twirl her again.
“I’ll get dizzy!” she laughs.
“I’ll help you find your way.” I reply, pulling her back to me, and holding her steady.
In the twilight of early morning, the memory seems almost surreal. Making good time, we remain mostly silent. The water on our right roars loudly. I look at the large boulders. What an angry element.
The water gleams, as the sun climbs higher in the morning sky. The light reflects in the cascading water as if it were sparkling diamonds. I find I got used to the loud roaring, with it only being background noise now.
Perhaps that’s why when the shots begin, they seem deafening. My heart stops, my head whipping in the direction of the sound. At first, its handguns. A few shots are fired and suddenly, after, we hear an assault rifle being fired. The sharp sounds echo around the forest, and we see birds scatter downstream- but its hard to pinpoint exactly how far away it is.   
We charge forward, no words needed. Ghost calls it in, as we run through the forest, on both sides of the river.
It feels like an hour when the bloodcurdling scream of a man echoes through the trees. We fasten our steps.
“If we heard that-“ Ghost’s voice is quiet but it oozes anger- and worry.
“I know.” I huff, as we keep our pace. “We have no time to lose.”
Breaking through the trees, ahead of us, on the other side of the river, I see a group of people. Soap has spotted them before me; his team already in position. Gaz begins circling them, branching his soldiers off to the right, into the trees.
Everything happens all at once, as we approach. The first shots shred a nearby tree, as the shouting gets louder.
“Get her!” a woman yells, as she points her gun at two men on the ground. In quick succession, she shoots them each in the head.
Ghost, next to me swears, aiming his scope at the group-
Then I see her.
Tilda sprints through the trees, dodging bullets and vaulting over trees. She has nowhere to go, with her captors on her heels, and the river to her left.
“There!” I tell Ghost. “Get her clear!”
“On it, sir.” He mutters, trying to get a clear shot at the attackers.
But we’re too late, she’s already made up her mind. As she narrowly escapes another round of shots, Tilda suddenly takes a leap.
It seems she falls forever. Expertly tucking in her limbs, she splashes into the water. Instantly she’s swallowed and swept away.
I’m sharply aware of everything. I see most her captors turn toward my soldiers, and a few take off after my wife. Raising my rifle, I focus on the ones remaining. I’ve more than one person to worry about.
Tilda is a decent swimmer, she’ll be okay, when we get to her.
“Ghost” I say, my voice hoarse. “Go get her.”
“But, Sir-“ He begins.
“Go.” I say again, firing at the enemy, unflinching. “We’ll hold them off.”
His eyes widen slightly, before he shoots to his feet and takes off, down the river. Looking after him for a second, I tear my gaze from him. He’s got it. He’s got her.
I’ve got to keep my head in the game. Taking a deep breath, I fire at the enemy.
“Gaz, how copy?”

Chapter Text

When my face dips under water, I snap my eyes open. Spluttering, I struggle to pull myself back up. Instantly I’m realising just how lucky I am.
I need to get out the water. My thoughts are muddled already, and by the lack of feeling cold I know I’m already hypothermic. How long have I been in the water?
Moving is agony. Hot, white, angry pain flashes through me, but bit by bit, I pull myself up higher, and manage to hook a leg over the slippery tree. Under my weight the wood groans and sways in the water. Holding on tighter, a cough rips through me, and water splutters over my lips.
With rattled breathing, I look at the river’s shore. If I can make it there, it’ll be fine. I’m still half submerged; I know I need to move.
My vision is swaying and blurry, and I blink rapidly to get it cleared.  Only now do I notice him.
A man stands at the shore, reaching his hands for me. He speaks, fast, his words mumbled. He reaches for me, trying to grab my hand. I’m barely able to move, but I stretch my fingers toward him.
It must be enough.
Please let it be enough.
I hold his gaze- when suddenly, he drops. Confused, I look at the empty space he’d occupied. I blink my eyes slowly, until they remain shut.
“Tilly”
Humming I force them back open. I find it mildly curious when I am face to face with a skull. The skull doesn’t look particularly mean. In fact, it has kind, brown eyes. 
“Come on Duckling, I need you to work with me.” The skull says. I know that voice. And the eyes.
“Simon” I whisper, mustering all my strength to get my hand to move forward, but I can’t.
He swears again, under his breath, and leans onto the tree. It aches under his additional weight, swaying, lowering further into the water.
“Simon” I whisper again, stretching my hand toward him. “Help“
“Nearly-“ His voice is strained. He still cannot reach me. Ghost leans forward, his fingers brushing against mine-
The moment he puts more weight on the dead wood, the tree gives out under me. It splinters and breaks, instantly submerging me in water. I’m violently swept away, surrounded by white water. Unsure of where the surface is, I can feel panic rising in my chest.
My lungs burn, screaming for air desperately. Fighting to grab a lungful of air, I have no chance to dodge the rock that appears from in between the white river. I crash against it, hard. By some miracle, my head is above water, and I manage to hold onto the rock. I take a few trembling, rattling breaths, feeling my senses return, slightly.
Adrenaline, maybe.
The pressure of the unrelenting water is rigid, and I can only move slightly. Leaning my face against the rock, I turn, until the shore is in view.
I see him. Ghost. He’s running, shouting for me, desperation barely contained. I move one of my legs, giving me more leverage.
“Tilly!” I hear him now. He’s close.
“Ghost!” My voice seems to get lost amongst the roaring- but he hears me. Instantly his eyes snap onto mine. A second later, he slides to a stop on the shore.
It’s too far to reach me unless he dives into the water. He contemplates it, clearly, already stepping toward the raging swirls.
“Don’t-” I beg him.
He sets his jaw and looks around. I have no sense of my surroundings, other than the rock that I cling to, and the shore, where Ghost stands.
Staring at something in the distance, he blinks rapidly. A few seconds pass, before his gaze settles back onto me.
“Let go.” He urges me.
First, I don’t believe I’ve heard him right, and instinctively my hold tightens. Trembling, I know even if I wanted to, my strength is waning, and the adrenaline seeps out of me like heat.
“Let go!” He says again, louder this time. “It’ll be alright.”
Hesitating another second, Ghost’s eyes widen. “Trust me.” He urges. I take a big breath –
And let go.
Instantly the water carries me downstream roughly. Before I can be whirled about again, I’m caught in something. It scratches at my exposed skin, tangling in my clothes, grabbing painfully at my body.
Branches, I realise. Another tree.
A second later, Ghost is above me, his hands grabbing my wrists deftly.
“I’ve got you.” He murmurs, as he pulls me from the water, grunting.
Moments later, I find myself spluttering and coughing on solid ground, breathing greedily, before finally lowering my head to the ground.
“Tilly” Ghost mutters beside me, pulling me into a sitting position. He cups my chin with his hand, making me look up at him. “Talk to me.”
I want to, but I’m still just trying to calm my breathing. A cough rips through me, and my head  lolls onto his shoulder. Gently he makes me look at him again, cupping my face and cheeks. Worry in his eyes, he murmurs assurances with each of my rattling breaths. He brushes wet hair from my face, leaning my forward, to assist the water exiting my lungs.
After another coughing fit, I lean against him, exhausted. His arms wrap around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
“Are you there?” he asks me, incredibly tenderly.
“Y-yeah” I reply, slowly, shivering in his arms. My teeth clatter, and its hard to keep a train of thought.
Ghost exhales, relief flooding his eyes. It’s replaced by determination not a moment later. “We gotta go. There’s more on your heels than the one I dealt with.”
Blearily I raise my gaze to him. “O-okay.”
He peels off his jacket, and wraps it around me tightly, helping me thread my shaking arms through the fabric.
It brings only little relief.
“You broken?” He asks me, as he zips up the comically large jacket and rubs his hands up and down my arms.
“I-I don’t- don’t- k-know.” I stutter. “C-c-cold.”
He only hums in response, before stands up, towering above me. Observing our surroundings, Ghost speaks into his radio.
“I’ve got her.” He tells them. “How copy?”
“Still active gunfire-“ Gaz replies. “They’re fucking-“ he huffs, as we hear shots ring out. “-determined to be a nuisance.”
“How is she?” John cuts in.
“She’s fine.” Ghost says, too quickly. “We need a-“
I see them at the same time Ghost spots them. In a split-second, he’s raised his weapon and fires at the enemy. They dodge the shots, and Ghost takes a step back, not turning to me.
“Get up.” He orders. “We’re out of time.”
He fires again, and a cry rings out, followed by return fire. He swears.
In one swift move, Ghost turns, throws me over his shoulder and takes off, along the bendy river’s shore. A few meters ahead, there seems to be a trail back into the woods. Firing back blindly, Ghost turns up and immediately, we’re swallowed by greenery, bushes, and trees.
Not letting off, Ghost turns right, further following the stream. After a few minutes, he slides stops, ducks through a few bushes, and sets me down.
Still violently shivering, I try to keep quiet.
We can hear them, stomping through the forest. I know Ghost could easily take them if he were alone. Instead, he crouches beside me, one arm draped across my shoulder, pulling me close, the other holding his gun, ready to defend us.
“Give us the girl.” A voice rings out. “There is no need for more bloodshed.”
It’s Nabila. A shudder runs down my spine, and Ghost pulls me closer into his side.
“You have no chance to flee.” She continues after a moment. “Safe yourself.”
We cower in the bushes, waiting for them to pass.
But they don’t. They linger, searching the area not far off. If they catch us, we’ll be sitting ducks.
“Do- do- it.” I whisper at him. He’s not surprised at my words. Instead, he nods to himself and checks his gun.
“Can you hold yourself up?”
“Yes.”
After a moment, he slings one of my arms around his shoulders and places the other around my waist. “I’ll need a distraction.”
“N-no problem.” I mutter, between clattering teeth. He holds my gaze for a moment, before he nods again, and stands up, pulling me with him.
“Here” he says, loudly, as we step from the bushes.
There’s four of them; three men, one injured, and Nabila. She smiles as she sees us, tightening the hold on her gun slightly. She’s the first to react, walking toward us with large steps, her weapon raised.
“I knew you’d come to your-“ She freezes, when she looks at Ghost. The men with her stop, seemingly confused.
Nabila’s eyes widen and her lips quiver, but she remains rooted into place. Slowly, Ghost adjusts his grip on me, getting ready to react.
She’s lighting fast. Aiming her gun at Ghost’s legs, she pulls the trigger. He goes down with an angry curse, blood gushing from his thigh. Without hesitation I lean over him, placing a hand on the wound, and reach for his side arm with the other.
Cold steel settles against the side of my head.
“Don’t.” She hisses.
Ghost groans, as I press harder, but his angry gaze is fixed on the woman.
The gun presses harder against my skull, filling my muddled thoughts with dread. At least my teeth have stopped clattering.
“I n-need to help hi-m.” I mutter, my voice gruff. “He’ll-“
“He is Ghost is he not?” she asks me.
Glancing up at her, I blink. Shoving the gun hard against my temple, anger oozes from her.
“Answer me!”
I don’t. Remaining silent, I apply more pressure to the wound, with shaky hands. Blood still seeps from in between my fingers, and fear settles in my stomach. There's nothing I can do to help him, other than keeping pressure on the wound. But damn it all, if I'll not try my best to keep him safe.
“Answer me!” she yells, the gun painfully shoved against my skull.
“Yes!” Ghost exhales. “I am.”
Her eyes spring to his face, and the smile that spreads over her face terrifies me to my core.
Painfully she grabs the back of my head, pulling my up by my hair, as I struggle to stay beside Ghost. It’s to no avail.
“No..!” I yell, but her hold is relentless.
Finding myself face to face with her, her nails digging into my skin, her gun pressed into my cheek.
“You two have taken everything from me.” She hisses, as her finger goes to the trigger. “You have taken my happiness from me." 
Her lips press together into a tight, thin line.
“It is time to pay.”

Chapter Text

20 months earlier

 The clock on the wall ticks relentlessly. I know exactly how long I’ve been waiting, every minute feeling like a year. Kate’s not usually one to be late.
My arms are crossed before my chest and despite having changed and being checked out in the infirmary, I still feel… tired and heavy, somehow. I was to report with Kate, before I’m allowed to rest. It’s all the stranger that she’s not here now.
The door opens and I spring to my feet, standing attention.
A man walks to the desk, plopping down a folder. “At ease.” He gruffs. Behind him, Kate stands. She doesn’t meet my eyes and looks pale.
I recognize the man’s voice immediately. He’s the one who told me they wouldn’t come for Grant. I set my jaw and sit back down.
“Sergeant Bellamy.” He says, slowly, looking me up and down. “I’m Base Commander Carter.” A breath of pause. “You’ve quite the reputation.”
“Do I, sir?” I ask, fully knowing that he’s right.
“A reputation for risky behaviour. For disobeying commands. For going rogue.”
I don’t reply. He isn’t wrong. Though, I’ve always had good reason.
“You’ve ignored direct commands today again, Sergeant.” He continues. “And now, Burgos and Jones are in the infirmary and Captain Grant is dead.” Carter’s eyes meet mine. “Care to defend your actions?”
Flickering a glance to Kate, I relax my shoulders, as I look at him. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“You were ordered to find data and leave the compound.” He tells me.
Ten seconds pass, then, twenty. “I found the flash drive.” I say, into the silence, simply because I don’t know what else to say. “I trust you are happy with hat result.”
“The order was to leave the compound.”
Tilting my head, I furrow my brow. “I would have never left behind a dying soldier.” I reply. “Captain Grant-“
“We had to send in soldiers to recover all four of you!” He suddenly yells, leaning forward. “The risk was immense. You disobeyed a direct order, Sergeant.”
Realisation hits me like a truck. I think I physically sway, before I’m able to collect my thoughts enough to answer.
“You knew.” I get to my feet. “You knew there was toxic gas in that station.” I hold his gaze stubbornly, even if tears of anger threaten to spill over. “You knew if we set foot into that station there was a high probability we’d die. You knew we’d hallucinate. You knew!”
“Sergeant Bellamy-“ Kate begins, but I lift a hand and she stops.
“I did what I could to safe my team.” I growl. “I did what I could to find your goddamn precious data.”
“You risked ten additional soldiers’ life.” Carter’s accusatory tone cuts through me. “You should have listened!”
“And then what, huh?” I ask, louder than I want to. “If I would have exited the station by myself- would you have left Burgos and Jones behind alive?”
The question weighs heavy. “They could have never Evaced by themselves.” I continue. “Is that what you are telling me, sir? That I should have left behind all three of them?”
“You had an order!” Carter states, sharply.
With a huff, I cross my arms before my chest. “It was a stupid fucking order.”
“Sergeant!” Kate exclaims.
Carter stands up, to meet my eyes. “You’ll be on disciplinary leave for 6 months, without pay. After, we can reassess whether your future lies with this department, or not.”
I laugh. “Don’t bother.” I reply, before I turn on my heels, and open the door. “I’ll be taking a discharge.”
Storming out the door, I slam it shut behind me, and make my way through the base.
Rounding a corner, almost going blind, I run into a solid frame.
“Whoa!” Gaz makes, as he steadies me, holding my shoulders. “In a rush, are we?” he asks me an easy smile on his face.
I look up. Instantly his demeanour changes and his hold tightens. “What’s wrong?”
“They-“ I begin “I-“ words don’t come in the correct order. “It’s-“ Fury and frustration threaten to overwhelm me, and I groan, as finally, angry tears run over my face.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay” Gaz says, quietly. “Let’s have a chat.” He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Looking around, he gently puts and arm around my shoulders. “My room’s just down the hallway. Come on.”

He sits me down at his desk, and hands me a mug of tea. “’s hot.” Gaz mutters, before he sits down across from me. He looks worried. Unsure of what do to with his hands, he begins playing with a set of keys. They jingle quietly. For a while, it’s the only sound.
“Where’s John?” I ask, clutching the mug as if I could strangle it.
“Debriefing.” Gaz replies. “Soap blew up a structure, so the paperwork is… extensive.”
I nod to myself. Regret starts setting in. Perhaps I have overreacted.
“They wouldn’t tell me what went down. Someone used the word ‘fubar’. What happened?” Gaz pauses. “Heard you lost someone on your mission.”
“I didn’t lose him.” My voice is bitter. “I was ordered to leave him behind.”
“Did you?”
“’course not.”
Gaz nods, and then, he gingerly sits down next to me, handing me a Lindor ball. “Spill.” He says, our shoulders just touching.
“I think I’m done.” I tell him, instead of taking the chocolate. The words feel impossibly perfect and deeply wrong at the same time. They leave me with inner turmoil, like an ocean during a storm.
“Done?”
“Done. With all of it. I can’t-“ I take a breath. “I can’t anymore, Gaz.”
He bites the inside of his cheek and nods, mostly to himself. “You’re my friend, Tilly.” He says, and hesitantly takes my hand into his. “I don’t know what happened. And if you do- or do not- tell me, I can’t promise that I can help you.” He takes a breath. “But I’m here for you. We all are. If you’re done, I’ll help you pack your stuff. And if you’re not, I’ll help you with the paperwork to fix this.”
I smirk. “There would be so much paperwork.” I mumble.
“Music to my ears.” He jokes, giving my hand a squeeze. “You shared your glimmer with me.” Gaz reminds me gently. “You patched up Soap when he was bleeding out. And I don’t know exactly how you did it but you’re Ghost’s friend. So… Whatever you need, Duckling. We’ve got you.”
“You speak for the group now?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, had a meeting about it the other day. I’m the new spokesperson.”
A chuckle escapes me, and I give Gaz a long hug before I begin telling him what happened. The words tumble and fall, sometimes in the wrong order, and definitely without making sense, but Gaz has patience. His face goes through all the emotions- Anger and fear and disbelief but mostly he looks relieved, that I am beside him.
Once I’ve finished, he looks at me wide-eyed. “You’ve got to tell Price.” He utters. Shaking my head, I sigh.
“Why? There’s nothing to be done. He’ll only flip his shit. Risk his own carreer. Say and do riskier things than me.”
“Rightfully so, Tilly. What is wrong with you? They nearly left four people for dead!” he pauses. “Including you!”
“You cannot truly tell me you’re surprised.” I reply. “We’ve done horrible things too.”
He struggles for words. “Yes.” He finally mumbles. “But not at the expense of our own team.”I want to believe him.
But the truth is, I do not. Not after what I’ve experienced today. I don't know any longer.
Theres a knock on the door. Gaz moves to open it, and he’s clearly taken aback, when Kate enters the room.
“You’re hard to track when you want to be.” She says. Kate’s unimpressed. Her eyes are narrowed, and her jaw is twitching.
“I wasn’t hiding.” I reply, defiantly.
Kate sends Gaz a look. He shifts uncomfortably. “Please leave us, Sergeant.”
“Thank god” he mutters, as he rushes past us. Undoubtedly, he’ll try to find John. Or Ghost. Or both.
As the door shuts behind him, Kate focusses on me. She’s clearly disappointed.
“I’ve talked to Carter.” She speaks without giving any room for discussion. “If you apologise to him, you’ll get away without the disciplinary.” Kate pauses. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath for a promotion.”
The words take a moment to register, then I blink at her in confusion. “I won’t apologise.”
“Of course, you will.” Kate stands in front of me. “This is your career. You worked hard for it. We’ll get you back on track.”
I get up, meeting her gaze in eyelevel. “If I would not have had the flash drive, I would have died in that station.” While my emotions are in turmoil, my words are calm. “I won’t apologise for trying to safe my Captains life. I won’t apologise for choosing life over data. I won’t apologise for my outburst.” I take a deep breath. “I’m done.”
We look at one another in stunned disbelief. “You’re making a mistake, Tilly.”
“Am I?” I ask, as the turmoil in my heart calms. Suddenly, I’m at peace. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
Kate holds my gaze for a moment longer before she shakes her head. “Is this really the hill you want to die on?”
“Well” I mutter, crossing my arms before my chest and defiantly cocking my chin. “I almost did. It does feel appropriate.”
With a last long look, Kate relents. “Fine.”
The moment between us stretches, and her features soften. She tries to reach out for me, but I move further back.
“I only want what’s best for you.” Kate’s shoulders drop. “You know I do.”
Shaking my head ever so slightly, I try to wrap my head around what she’s saying. “I was hallucinating way before I passed out. You knew what was down there. You should have ordered us to evacuate then and there.”
She turns away from me, looking out the window instead. “We all have orders to follow. I followed mine.”
Huffing I begin walking to the door. “I’ll be in my own quarters, should you have any other orders for me.”
As I go through the door, Kate’s voice stops me. “Tilly, sweet girl.” She says, and I find myself turning around halfway, to meet her gaze. “You are amongst the most precious things in my life. Don’t ever waver in knowing that.” She pauses. “I love you.”
For a split-second I’m tempted to say it back.
But I don’t.
I nod-
And leave.

Chapter Text

It’s Soap in the end, who subdues the last of our enemies. Catching my breath, I count my soldiers. Some are injured, but none are down. While some of them are busy securing the subdued enemy, others are nursing their companions.
We’re lucky that further up the stream there had been a natural bridge. I feel more at ease with my team complete, on the same side of the stream.
As I wipe dirt from my face, I see Gaz walking up to me, his brow furrowed. “Cap” he says voice tight. “I can’t reach them.”
Soap looks around the area, clearly uncomfortable. “Where’s Ghost?”
Looking between the two of them, my mind races. He said he had her. He said she was fine.
“He went after Tilda.” I tell Soap, then I try to reach Ghost myself. “Ghost, how copy?”
The silence weighs heavy.
“That cannea be good.” Soap mutters. “How long has he been dark for?”
I have no answer for him. I’m usure how long we’ve been busy here. Perhaps an hour? Maybe longer. Or maybe less.
“We need’ta find him.” Soap’s voice leaves no room for discussion.
“The only location we have is downstream.” Gaz argues.
Soap’s eyes glint, almost angry. “Still better than all of North America.”
“Stop.” I step between them. “We follow the stream. Ghost was in touch. We’ll find them both.” Meeting both Gaz’ and Soap’s eyes, I raise my brow.
“Aye.” Soap mutters. “We need’ta find him."
With that, I take the lead. We cross the stream back over, to be on the same side as Ghost when I sent him ahead. I’m not sure what awaits us, but my gut tells me this is the best decision.
Following the stream below us, we listen closely, with our weapons ready. I’m almost out, having only two clips left. Confirming with the boys, we collectively have five clips left. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do.
“How cold do you think the water is?” Gaz asks me after a while, as he looks at the whirling water below.
“I don’t know.” I say. “She’s a strong swimmer.”
Gaz cocks his head. “I’m not worried about that-”
“There!” Soap interrupts us, pointing at the river’s shore. A body, half in the water, his limbs sprawled about. He’s wearing armour, but thanks to the unruly black hair I can see, we’re sure it’s not Ghost- or Tilda.
Still, we make our way down, confirming what we already knew. That the man is dead. A broken neck by the looks of it.
“He must’ve tried to get to her.” Gaz says, as he pulls the man from the water, and sets him down further on shore. “It’s one of the captors.”
“They cannea be far off, then.”
We look around. There isn’t a sound above the roaring river, and the whispering of wind in the trees. Following the river further, we slow our steps. He’d have to have found her. They were in the vicinity.
“Should we fan out?”
“No.” I say. “I don’t know how many went after her. We have a better chance at-“
“This is Bravo-19 for Watcher 1.” Her voice is strained over the radio. It shivers, and trembles around the edges. She sounds afraid.
We freeze in out tracks.
“That’s Tilly’s-“ Gaz’ begins, wide-eyed. 
I shush him and pull the radio from its halter.
“Affirmative, Barvo-19. How copy?” Kate replies. She hides her confusion almost well enough.
“Lieutenant Riley is injured.” She says. “We’ll need med-“ A gasp, followed by a struggle, and brief silence. Then-
“Watcher 1.” A different voice cuts in. She sounds angry. “You are the one with authority?”
Theres a pause.
“Yes.” Kate says.
Theres a chuckle, that makes me shiver. “I want Samreen released. I know it has not happened so far.” I hear a strangled curse. My grip on the radio tightens. “You have murdered my sister. You have killed my brother-in-law. You have imprisoned my niece.” She chuckles again. “And now I have the two people responsible for my anguish.”
“Samreen will be released-“
“No more lies, Watcher 1.” She says. “Your Lieutenant is bleeding out. You are out of time.”
Soap breaks from the group, sprinting down the stream. Gaz takes off after him, half a second later.
Without skipping a beat, I follow them.
“The girl is trying her best.” She continues. “But is it enough?”
Along the river, there is nothing, not a trace of them, anywhere. Gaz suddenly stops, looking up a narrow, overgrown path, back into the woods.
“I think this is it.” He mutters, his gaze flickering to me.
Through the radio we hear another grunt of pain, followed by a curse.
“Bye-bye for now, Watcher 1.” The woman says. “Let me know when Samreen is free. And I might make sure your people get the help they need.”
The radio goes dark.
A few seconds later, Kates voice cuts through the silence. 
“Watcher 1 for all positions.” Kate says. “You’re authorized to shoot on sight. I want Lieutenant Riley and the civilian rescued. Now.”
Without another word, I lead the boys up through the path. We move slowly. By the sheer anxiety rolling off Soap, I’m aware that he hates it. But I move deliberately.
We only have surprise on our side.
We need to keep it that way.
The thicket is hard to get through here, and it’s clear that people have broken through recently. Trying, and mostly failing, to calm my racing mind, I try to gauge how many enemies are around. By the tracks on the ground, I can tell it’s… more than one.
The group appears before us, rather abruptly. Ghost is on the ground, though still awake, seemingly talking quietly. Tilda is leaning over him, her hands pressed against his lower thigh. She’s pale and soaked, and even from here I can see she’s shivering. That’s not what makes my heart speed up though-
It’s the gun pushed tightly to her head, from the woman above her. She looks angry, frantic almost, gesturing her free hand around.
I don’t like it. Frantic people are dangerous.
The guards beside her, despite having their guns pointed at Tilda and Ghost, look scared. Whether it’s of her, or Ghost, I’m unsure.
Putting my hand out, I stop Soap, before he can storm forward, headlessly.
“We need a plan.” I hiss at him quietly. Then, I gesture for Gaz to round the group, and approach from the back. He nods once, ducking away, he vanishes in the greenery. Grabbing onto Soap, I level with him.
“Take the other side. Wait. For. My. Sign.”
Even if his stare is angry, he nods. “Copy.” Holding on to him for a moment longer, I search his face. Soap nods again. “I got it.” He tells me, voice tight.
Releasing a long breath, I let go of his arm. “Good. Go.”
He turns, and much like Gaz, he vanishes. I focus back onto the scene before me.
I can’t make out their voices, but even still I know it’s tense. Tilda is saying something, and before I can even try and react, the woman hits the butt of her pistol against the back of my wife’s head.
She grunts, falling forward. Ghost catches her, and her hands slip. A second later, she snaps her eyes open, and shakes her head, pressing her hands back to Ghosts injury. The woman laughs, loudly, and crouches down next to them. She brushes the gun over Tilda’s forehead, before she gets back up. She rolls her shoulder, before she places the gun back to Tilda’s head.
“Fuck.” I swear, under my breath.
It’s unlike Tilda to not deal with the guards. There must be more to what is wrong with them. Which also means, that neither of them can help us in the assault.
I want to update Kate, but I’m not sure if Ghost’s radio is off. The risk to blow our cover is too large.
Gaz is in position first. I only spot him, because he clearly gives me a sign, in between the bushes. A moment later, I see Soap’s mohawk peek through the trees.
They’re ready.
I reassess. The risk is huge. If we do not take out the woman first, both Ghost and Tilda are in danger. I’ll go for her first, then. If I’m lucky she’ll get distracted, and I have a moment to strike.
The guards are no match for my boys.
Grabbing my radio, I take a deep breath.
“Go.”

Chapter Text

There’s a persistent ringing in my ears, as the world around me sways and tumbles. I should have known better. Should have anticipated the blow. Nabila doesn’t seem like the type to calmly discuss options.
“You’re okay.” Ghost whispers. “I’m okay.”
He’s lying.
And he’s terrible at it.
“Need a… Tourniquet…” I reply, helplessly, watching more blood run between my fingers. It’s nearly enough to make me sick.
I’m somewhat certain that my head bleeds. Hot liquid runs down my ice-cold skin, every tiny movement making a squelching sound. Hanging on by a thread, I keep the pressure on Ghost’s thigh. It’s the only coherent thought.
I cannot let go.
Even with the limited amount of skin I can see near his eyes, I know he’s gone pale. Despite his angry stare and steady voice, I have no doubt that he’s starting to struggle.
“You’re doing great.” He murmurs, trying to keep me calm. “They’ll be here soon.”
I nod slightly, trembling. I still feel the gun, pressed to my scalp. Nabila is talking- shouting even- but I don’t have the dexterity to follow her rambling. I don’t think she’s talking to me. Or anyone really.
She’s unravelled from the sophisticated, calm woman I’ve met, to an instable gunslinger.
It’d be funny if Ghost wasn’t injured.
“Once I have Samreen, you all will see what my family is capable off!” Nabila yells, waving her free arm. “Just you watch!”
With hard pressure, I move my hand deeper into the hole in Ghost’s thigh. It’s arguably in a good spot. If I had proper gear, I’d be able to deal with it, until medevac was available.
Alas… I do not.
Another bout of dizziness hits me. Swaying forward, Ghost steadies me, his gaze searching mine.
“Tilly.” He mutters. “Stay.”
“Yeah.” Closing my eyes for a moment, I force a smile and look at him. His eyes are drooping, until suddenly, they open wide, and tiredness gives room to attention.
He puts his hand on mine, giving it a squeeze. “They’re here.” He mumbles as he lets his head fall back, a stifled chuckle rumbling from his chest. Part of me doubts his words. I haven’t heard anything.
Perhaps it’s his own wishful thinking.
Perhaps it’s mine.
Resisting the urge to react to his words and look around, I gently rock back on my heels. If they are here, shit’s about to go down.
Keeping Ghost safe is my top priority.
It’s my only priority.
I run my gaze over Ghost, who seems to become weaker. Spots dart through my vision, threatening to swallow me whole and sounds are dampened, swirling together, and stretching endlessly within the blink of an eye.
Perhaps that is why, when the first shot is fired, I don’t immediately react. Instead, a second later, my training takes over and adrenaline fires through my veins.
Nabila jerks, turning at the sudden commotion, creating space between the gun and my head. Instantly I turn on my heels, jump up and grab at the gun. Jabbing her in her elbow, hard, her grip on the weapon wavers. She yelps, and stumbles back a few
steps, where she suddenly ducks under shots fired. Beside us, the guards turn and yell, one already having gone down. Shots are fired, buzzing every direction.
Ordinarily I’d want to turn the gun against Nabila, make sure she’s secured- but I don’t. Instead, I remove the magazine smoothly and throw the gun to the side.
Right away I crouch back down, applying pressure to Ghost’s wound.  Leaning forward, I try to protect as much of Ghosts body as I can.
Around us, the struggle continues; but clearly, the 141 has the upper hand. Hearing Soap’s rowdy swearing I feel infinitely better.
“Simon” I say, my face close to his, trying to meet his gaze. Adrenaline is still pumping through me, clearing some of the fog.
“Yeah” his voice is thin and shaky.
“We’ll be home soon” I reassure him, trying to keep him awake. I see his eyes roll back into his skull, and he goes limp under my hands.
The curse is caught on my lips as I’m thrown off my injured friend. Nabila crashes into me with a battle cry, the force making me lose my balance. I fall to my side, my world tilting and jumbling until it stops, as I connect with the ground. Losing my breath, I blindly hit against my assailant. It’s to no avail. Being rolled unto my back, I feel her hands wrap tightly around my neck.
Her nails dig into my skin, and she looks crazed. She grits her teeth as she leans down.
“You took everything from me!” She shrieks, having gone shrill.
Struggling against her hold, I try to get my legs up and underneath her but it’s to no avail. My body feels like runny clay.
The dark spots that have been in my periphery are taking over, the trees above me vanishing, leaving behind only Nabila’s wide eyes.
In one last effort I scratch at her face, but it’s to no avail. Her hands only tightening.
A loud bang brings sudden release. She falls forward, her weight fully on me. Desperately I push her off, greedily taking in air. Each rattling breath bringing relief to my body.
Coughing hard I try to push myself up. A moment later, steady hands are helping me. The familiar smell of Gaz’s aftershave surrounds me, and I feel incredibly safe when I look up at him blearily. He looks pale, with a small, worried smile on his face. There’s dirt on his face, and blood on his clothes.
“You’re okay” he murmurs, as he holds me tightly to his chest. “We’ve got you.” For a second I feel calm. They came for me. They came for us-
The realisation hits me like a tidal wave.
“Ghost-“ I choke, pushing Gaz’s away. “He needs-“ I breath in raggedly “Help.”
Gaz holds my shoulders, and levels with me. “You need-“
“I’m fine!” I urge, pushing myself up to my feet. “Give me your medpack.”
Half walking, half stumbling back to Ghost, my mind hyper focusses on what needs to be done.
Soap’s already there, cupping his face, murmuring against his cheek. Gaz hands me his medpack, with a concerned frown.
“You should-“
“Call it in.” I interrupt him, pulling the tourniquet from the bag with shaky fingers. “Medevac. Now.”
With practiced ease, I place the tourniquet above the bullet hole. Before I pull it tight, I look at Ghost’s still form. Hopefully its enough.
Without further hesitation I tighten the appliance. He moans lowly, and Soap grabs his hand tightly.
Checking over Ghost to make sure he’s as fine as he can be, I nod to myself when I find a soft but steady pulse.
Dropping back to the ground, I sit, leaning heavily on my knees. It’s as if I deflate. My hands tremble uncontrollably, as I try to brush a strand of hair from my face. A broken sob escapes me, while I look at my friend laying still before me. I start tilting, unable to keep myself up. Then, Gaz is beside me, catching me when before I collapse.
“Easy now, Duckling.” He murmurs. “Let’s get you comfy, okay?”
He pulls his jacket off. “You’re ice-cold.”
“Is it over?” I ask them. “Where’s John?”
Gaz wraps his jacket around me, before he runs his hands up and down my arms. Trying to keep me warm, maybe. 
“It’s over” he confirms. “You did it.” His face swims before my eyes. I reach out to steady myself on his shoulder. Instantly, puts an arm around me. I blink twice, trying to make sense of the spinning world. Gaz’s voice hollowly rings to my ears. Tightening my hold on him, I feel myself slip.
“Price is calling in for evac. We’ll be out of here-“

Chapter Text

I’ve done this before. Waiting at her bedside.
It’s torture.
Of course, comparatively, this is nothing. She’s not on death’s doorstep. She’s not been shot. She’s not been burned. She’s not been-
I sigh.
Knowing it’s been worse before, doesn’t change how tight my chest feels.
She’s getting air through a mask, each of her breaths rattling in her chest. A few hours ago, a fever began spiking- the Doctors expect an infection in her lungs. The mix between antibiotics, pain meds and fever drugs keeping her asleep for now.
Gaz is beside me, tapping away on his laptop, and on the far side of the room, Soap and Ghost are quietly talking.
I watch them, incredibly happy to see Soap tell jokes and to hear Simon’s easy chuckle. His injury is bandaged, and the IV-drip is keeping him comfortable. He’ll be back to work quickly, though he’ll be on desk duty for the foreseeable future. That is, if I have to say anything about it.
Which isn’t likely.
Gesturing wildly, Soap’s grumbly laughter makes Ghost’s eyes light up.
“She’ll be happy to know he’s going to be fine.” Gaz says, not looking up.
“Yeah.” I murmur, adjusting my seat and tightening my hold on her hand. My gaze wanders to Gaz. As if he’s feeling it, he shifts on his seat.
“What?” he asks me, still not looking up. His trademark smirk on his face, he taps away. It’s his way of coping. Just like Soap’s is joking, Ghost’s is secluding himself, until Soap finds him and hers is…
“Cap?” Gaz asks, his voice filled with concern.
My eyes snap up at him, but words fail me. There's a jolt of anger, followed by pain and finally... jealousy.
I wasn’t the one freeing her from her captors. I wasn’t the one helping her deal with Ghost. I wasn’t the one that held her when she finally collapsed. 
Because I chose to do what I do best. I tear my gaze from Gaz and rest it back on my wife’s face. It's unfair to blame him. And I don't. Not really, anyway. 
Watching her breathe regularily, i try to focus on what is.
She’ll be fine, they say. Bruised and tired for a while to come; the concussion will take time to heal, the infection in her lungs will slow her down- But she’ll be fine.
Gaz sits down next to me. “She’s okay.” He tells me. “She’s the toughest of us all.”
“She should have been safe.” I finally croak. “When she quit, I was sure she’d be safe.”
“We couldn’t have known that there was a crazy aunt.” Gaz replies. “And Tilly-“
“I should have been home. With her. Making sure she’s safe. I should have been there!” I interrupt him, quietly. Still, it feels as if I’ve yelled at him.
The room goes silent, with both Soap and Ghost looking at us, their conversation dead in its tracks.
“What we talkin’ about?” Soap asks.
I rub my face. Maybe I’m just tired. It’s been a long few… years.
Nobody speaks. Opening my eyes, I look at Tilda. There’s a large bruise on her face, and long scratches decorating her skin.
“She jumped into the river because she saw no other way.” I finally say, slowly. “She jumped because she didn’t know if we’d come for her.”
The silence weighs heavy.
“That’s bullshit” Soap replies. Gesturing around he shrugs. “And we all know it.” Furrowing my brow, I meet his gaze. “She knew we’d come. She was tryin’ to give us more time to get to her.” He leans forward, a smile on his face. “Tilly doesn’t need us anyway. She’s capable.”
I don’t reply.
He’s right.
But, truthfully, it doesn’t help.

Gaz makes me leave. And he’s right to, of course. We’re all exhausted and if I want to be able to care for Tilda I need to be on my best.
We escort Soap back first, and then Gaz drops me off before my door.
“Tilly's okay.” He tells me.
“She could’ve-“
“Don’t.“ Gaz waves his hands. “Don’t do that.” He smirks. “I’m not asking.”
Shaking my head, I slowly open the door. It’s a plain room, perfect for a few nights, before we return home. I let my gaze wander, until it rests on a bottle of bourbon with two glasses, standing on the table.
“Laswell” I mutter. Then, I tilt my head, blinking at Gaz twice. “Nightcap?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Gaz nods.
Sitting down, Gaz already opens the bottle and begins pouring. We clink out glasses and each take a sip.
Then, we sit in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.
It’s comfortable.
Minutes tick by. Our glasses refilled; we clink them together once more.
“It’ll be alright, you know.” Gaz eventually says, looking straight at me.
“I don’t know, Kyle.” I say quietly, looking at my half full glass.
She’s cutting carrots when I enter. Half turning to me, she smiles. My heart just about stops. I wonder if she knows how hard the next words are to say. How much strength they take.
“I’ll be gone a few weeks. Maybe more” I say, moving up to her, and wrapping my arms around her waist. “Will you be alright?”
Tilda chuckles, placing the carrot cubes in a bowl. “You’re the one going off to be shot at.”
“After this I’ll be do-“
She hums, shaking her head, still smiling. “Don’t.” Then, she looks at me. I think there’s sadness in her eyes, but after a split second, it’s gone. She cups my face and flutters a kiss to my lips. “Don’t say it, unless you’re certain.”
The room suddenly seems dark. Too dark maybe. Gaz has leaned back and looks up at the ceiling, arms folded on his chest. Looking at him a sudden thought occurs to me.
Taking another swing from my liquor I clear my throat. 
“If something ever happens to me” I begin, setting the glass back down on the table. “You’ll take care of her, won’t you?”
Gaz looks at me, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Cap-“
Raising my hands in defence I shake my head. “I’m not planning to do something stupid. Just… in case.” A breath of pause. The words taste sour. “You know?”
He still looks at me in surprise. After a few seconds, he nods, slowly. “I would.” He says.
“Promise?” I feel silly even uttering the words. Like a schoolboy.
“Yes.” Gaz confirms. “I promise.”
It feels as if a weight drops off my shoulders. Releasing a long breath, I nod to myself.
“Thank you.”
He looks as if he wants to say something more. But he shakes his head and remains silent.  Gaz excuses himself not too much later.
I find myself restless, once he’s left and decide – against better judgement – to return to Tilda’s bedside. I’ve slept in more uncomfortable situations than on a chair.
The med bay is mostly silent when I enter, the medic on duty simply giving me a nod when I pass him.
Her door is open, which makes me halt. Subconsciously pulling my weapon from its holster, I peer into the room.
Ghost is fast asleep, snoring slightly.
The figure at Tilda’s bed is familiar.
Kate sits in silence, running a finger over Tildas hand. For a second, I contemplate leaving them to it, but finally, I choose against it, and enter.
“I was quite surprised when I didn’t find you here.” Kate says, looking at me with a small smile.
“Gaz tried, at least.”
Sitting down heavily across from her, I place a hand on Tilda’s forehead. She’s still running the fever, but rests peacefully nevertheless.
I expect there to be silence, but instead Kate takes a deep breath. “I’m glad you found her.”
Flickering my gaze up at her, I press my lips together. “So am I.”
There’s grief in her eyes, I think. As she gathers her thoughts, she leans back. “You know I didn’t like it either.” Kate says, softly. “I would move-“
“Stop.” There is no anger in my voice, no malice. “She’s here. We got her back.”
Kate lowers her gaze on Tilda. The dark bruise on her neck is in stark contrast to her pale skin; the cuts on her arms, while bandaged, are still angry red. Her face has gotten more bruised and the oxygen running through the mask hisses lowly.
“She’s not a high value target.” Kate finally continues, sounding as if she’s trying to convince herself. “I simply didn’t think…” pausing, she composes herself. “I’m sorry.”
I smirk. “Tastes bitter, doesn’t it?”
She sets her jaw. “I’m not opposed to apologise when I’m wrong.” Then, under her breath. “I’m just rarely wrong.”
Chuckling, I lean forward onto the bed, taking hold of Tilly’s hand.
Kate eyes me. “You’re thinking about leaving it all behind, aren’t you?”
Hesitating for a moment, I nod. “I can’t help it, Kate.”
“She’d not want you to leave like this.” She crosses her legs. “She’d want you to leave on a high.”
I don’t think she’s right. In fact, I think she’s swung wide and missed spectacularly- Tilda doesn’t care how I leave. Only that I’m ready when I do.
“Got one waiting ‘round the corner, have you?” I press a kiss to my wife’s hand, holding her cool skin against my lips.
There’s a moment’s hesitation. “We’re going after Makarov.”
My breath hitches. “Makarov.” I repeat, not daring to take my gaze off Tilda.
“We need you, John.” Kate’s voice sounds almost hollow. “We need all of you.”
When I don’t reply for another few long moments, she clears her throat. “Lauren is on her way. She’ll take Tilly home. Care for her until we’re done. Make sure she’s safe.” A breath of pause. “We could leave tomorrow. Waste no more time.”
The simple thought of not being with Tilda when she’s waking up and returning home breaks my heart.
“Ghost needs more time.” I say.
“He can follow once he’s healed.”
Rationally, I’m aware that it makes sense. Makarov needs to be stopped.
In her sleep, Tilda’s brow furrows. Maybe she’s having a fever dream. I place a gentle hand on her forehead and let my thumb run over her brow. Instantly, she calms down.
The silence stretches. Morphs from comfortable to tense.
“John” Kate says, eventually, an edge to her voice. She expects an answer. Demands it, almost.
“After this, I’m done.” I tell her. There isn’t any room for discussion.
Kate doesn’t try. Instead, she nods, slowly, and gets to her feet. “I’ll get everything ready.”
She leaves but I do not move. I keep my hand on her face, looking at the familiarity that is my wife.
Tilda won’t like it. That I left like this.
But I don’t think I could stomach it. Seeing her awake before I leave. I’d wrap her into my arms and never again leave her side.
This… This needs to be done.
It feels like an eternity later when I finally press a kiss to her brow and turn to leave.
Ghost sits up in his bed, studying me soundlessly.
Stopping dead in my tracks, we look at one another. A minute passes in silence. Then two.
“She’ll be hurt.” He tells me.
“I know.” I reply. “But she’ll understand.”
He tilts his head, looking at me through narrowed eyes.
“You’re not leaving me behind.” He then continues. He’s not asking.
“No.” I agree.
Another minute of silence passes, before Ghost sighs, deeply.
“I’ll be ready.”
“No doubt.” Nodding, I cross the room to leave.
The door shuts behind me, with a quiet thud. Standing before it for a moment, I take a deep breath.
I want to go back and sit by her side for a moment longer.
But I don’t.
Instead, pushing myself forward and away, I already begin planning what needs to be done before we depart.

Chapter Text

When I wake, there is the familiar feeling of a fever having passed through my body. I feel both sweaty and cool, and my throat is dry. Blinking sleep from my eyes, begin taking notice of the mask on my face, oxygen hissing loudly.
I have scrambled memories of days passed. I remember feeling cold. So, so cold.
A hand holds mine.
Giving the hand a squeeze, I smile and look to the side.
I fully expected it to be John- but its Lauren.
Instantly my stomach drops. If he’s not here, something major has happened. Fear grips at my heart.
“John” I mutter, looking around the room, panicked. My breathing speeds up, causing my lungs to painfully tighten.
A cough rips through me, making my eyes tear up.
He’s not here.
He’s not here.
Lauren hushes me, grabbing my hand tightly.
“You’re okay sweet girl” she murmurs, her face just inches from mine.
I don’t remember her being here. I don’t remember seeing her. Still feeling panic rise in my chest, I try to find the rest of the team.
The bed beside me is empty.
There’s no Soap.
No Ghost. I know Ghost was alive. I know I saved him from bleeding out.
Or did I not?
Gaz isn’t here either- I am certain he was with me before.
Frozen in fear, I meet Laurens blue eyes.
“Are they dead?” I ask hoarsely. My voice is shaky with anxiety. “Please tell me.”
Lauren sits down on the bed next to me, taking my hands into hers. “They’re fine, sweet girl.”
It does nothing to calm my racing heart. “Where’s John?”
She looks sad then. Stroking my head softly, she seems to struggle for words.
“Can we worry about you for just a moment?”
Furrowing my brow, I hold her gaze.
If John’s not here -if the 141 isn’t here, if Kate isn’t here… Realisation settles in my mind, sticking to my thoughts like honey.
They’ve gone on mission.
Staring at her unmoving, I don’t hear the words she says. I barely feel her touch on my skin. Theres only one thought in my mind.
He’s gone on mission without saying good-bye.
He’s gone on mission before I was awake.
“Tilly?” Lauren says a little louder, a hand on my shoulder. “Are you listening to me?”
My eyes snap up at her.
“How dangerous is their mission?” I ask her. Surprise flashes over Laurens face, and her hand grasps mine tighter.
She was planning to keep that secret a little longer, then. I push myself up, to meet her gaze on her level. To be considered an equal, instead of a child, left behind.
After a moment, she helps me settle against the frame, but doesn’t answer.
Lauren hands me a cup of water and helps me pull off the mask.
“Slowly, now.” She murmurs. Quietly encouraging me with each sip I take. “That’s it.”
When she takes it from me, she averts her gaze.
“I told her not to.” Lauren whispers. “I told her to wait. That there are things more important than her work.” There’s a long pause, where she seems to struggle with keeping her breath calm. “But she didn’t listen.”
It’s bad then. It’s really bad.
It feels as if I’m plunged back into ice-cold waters, helplessly paddling at the surface. I try and fail to keep my breathing even. Instantly, Lauren places the mask back on my face.
“You’re okay.” She soothes me, as my breath grows more ragged and uneven.
My heart beats rapidly in my tightening chest. A groan escapes me, and I clutch a hand to my chest. I feel as if my heart’s about to explode.
Lauren reacts fast. She slides into bed, wrapping her arms tightly around me and pulling me close.
“It’s okay.” She murmurs, as she tightens her hold, until I physically cannot hyperventilate.
Slowly but steadily my heartbeat slows down and my breathing evens out.
I remain leaning against her for a moment longer. She runs a hand over my back, my head pressed against her chest so tightly, I can hear her heartbeat.
“How do you do it?” I ask her, once my lungs feel less like I’m drowning.
Lauren smiles against my hair, her breath tickling my ears. “I take one day after the other.” She holds me impossibly closer, as if she’s trying to mend my broken body, and glue up the shards of my soul. “It’s the only thing we can do.”

Walking into my home is… strange. I can tell that it was left in a hurry. There’s half full cups of coffee, that have mould growing in them on the counter. Someone started a wash but never put it into the drier. Gaz’s makeshift bed in the office is still there, along with his usual stack of magazines and a half-eaten snickersbar. The cupboard in the entrée stands open, with jackets having been pulled from it in a haste.
I walk through the house, feeling a little like an intruder. I find Lauren, sitting on the stairs once I’ve taken stock of the lower floor.
She sits, staring the picture wall. After a moment’s hesitation, I sit down next to her, our shoulders just touching.
“He did everything he could to find you.” She tells me, looking at the picture of our first dance. My gaze rests on it as well. It’s funny to me, how the team is always in the background. I see Simon and Soap beaming at on another.
My heart hurts.
“And he succeeded.” I reply, a tired smile tugging at my lips. “Even understood my cryptic E-Mail.”
Lauren chuckles. “Your mother didn’t.” a breath of pause. “Called me, completely and utterly confused. She was quite worried, I’ll have you know. Asked me if everything was okay or if you were hurt.”
I scoff, before I stretch my legs down the staircase. We stay like that for a moment longer before I crack my knuckles. “I’ll start cleaning. What do you want for dinner?”
Feeling her gaze under my skin, even before I turn, she lays an arm around me, holding me in place.
“You need to rest. You’ve been through something traumatic.”
For a split-second, I want to lash out in anger. Yell, that I’m perfectly capable of dealing with things on my own terms; but as fast as the anger bubbles up, it vanishes. Leaving behind an empty tiredness.
“It’s not the first time that he’s on mission.” My voice is defiant.
“That isn’t what I mean.” Lauren sounds exasperated.
I don’t dare looking up.
“I want to feel useful.” I simply say instead, my gaze firmly glued to my hands. “As if I can do things, too.”
She holds me tighter. “Oh-Oh, sweet girl.” She murmurs. “You’re the most capable of all of us. Never doubt it.”
All throughout the house is evidence of their desperation. How fast they’ve left. How all of them fully expected to return here after finding me.
Someone- I suspect Simon or Gaz- has bought my favourite snacks and a few new books for me to read.
The wash that’s been forgotten smells of my favourite scent- something I know John does when he feels anxious.
And Soap, kind, nervous, never-still Soap. I find his notes all through the house. They are everywhere.
Its as if I can hear his chuckle, as he’s hid them all throughout the house. I can see his grin when I close my eyes.
I keep them all neatly arranged as I find them, on a stack on my nightstand. There’s about fifty of them, hidden everywhere. One I found in my sockdrawer, on sticky-taped to the inside of my shower curtain. They make me laugh.
Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. One says. It’s my favourite. It’s on top of the stack.
I sometimes feel like they are just out of my reach. But this feels different. It feels scary. It feels as if-
Passing by the dreadful long hours with small tasks, I try to keep busy until I drop of tiredness.  The kitchen has never been this clean. Eventually I run out of curtains to wash and decide to take apart and wash the couch instead. My fingers only stop shaking when I keep busy.
I can hardly stomach food, and despite Lauren’s desperate attempts to get me to eat, I don’t budge.
I pretend I don’t see her staring at me worriedly. She pretends she isn’t worried. It doesn’t work well for either of us. At this point, I’m unsure who sleeps less.
Days blur together. Days in which I move like a caged animal. Flinching at every sound. Startling when Lauren enters a room. Not sleeping more than a few short hours at a time, and finding myself on the stairs, watching the door. I hope something happens- and I hope it doesn’t.
Its day ten- I think- when the doorbell rings unexpectedly.
Instantly I freeze, mid movement. The potatoes I wash drop to the bottom of the sink. With wide eyes I wonder if I’ve imagined it.
But there is a second ring. It feels more insistent. My blood runs cold, and my entire body begins shivering violently. 
I need to move. Leaning against the sink I turn around. Its ten steeps from the kitchen to the door.
I’ve done harder things.
Taking the first unsure step, resolve forms in me. With each staggering step, I come closer to the door. Supporting myself on the walls, I look down the hallway.
It seems hallway never-ending. Step by step, I fight forward- until I make it. Feeling as if I’ve just ran a marathon, I put my hand on the doorhandle, carefully. Painfully aware of every little detail, as if it’s burned into my eyes, I stare at the door. Perhaps they have left.
Trying to will my hand to turn the knob, I swallow empty. Ten seconds pass, then, fifteen. The doorbell rings again. Theres a knock that follows it, but my hand- my body, my mind- refuses to move.
When Lauren steps beside me, she gently touches my shoulder, and yells at the door that she’ll be right there.
We stand a second there, together, each breathing in deeply.
“Ready?” She asks me.
“No.” I whisper. “Open it.”
She does.
There they are. Two of them, in their uniforms, their eyes calm, but filled with sorrow.
My heart stops.
“Mrs. Price?” one asks me. The other stands a little taller, straightening his back.
“Yes.” I say, near silently. The word breaks in half. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Yes.” My eyes dart between them. I know, then. As if it were a fact of life. Tears well in my eyes, before they even speak.
“Which one?”
There’s surprise on their faces. Lauren clasps my hand tightly in hers. I feel her shivering.
“Please” I beg. “Which one?”