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They don't tell you about the dreams. You get over the guilt, grapel with the grief enough to function, but the dreams... the dreams don't go away.
Ghost had tried. Caffeine, sleeping pills, midnight workout routines, nothing helped. It was hell. Must've been years since Ghost had a night where he didn't wake up damp with sweat, ash and burning flesh lingering in all his senses.
Crackling rang in his ears, tricking him for a moment that he was back in the house. It was short lived, he knew he wasn't, but it still took a second for the lump in his throat to loosen.
Tonight was just like every night. Bed sheets stuck to his skin, gasps stuck in his throat as he faintly smelled smoke. His head whipped to the nighstand, the last dregs of smoke floating through the air from his pre-sleep cigarette, as it'd become so stressful he needed one as a pregame.
Ghost rested his head in his hands. He knew it was over, and compared to the shit he'd done and gone through a house fire was nothing, but his brain was still hooked on it. Made him want to bash his head into a wall.
He threw the wet covers off, tossing his legs over the side and standing up. The same images kept flashing through his mind, long since engraved. Heat. Red. Burnt fingers digging through hot ash in hopes of recovering anything, raw flesh exposed and dusted in filth. Sitting in the hospital, alone.
His heart pounded and hands clenched. He was always alone. He was like a fucking curse, killed everything he touched. God, everyone might be dead already.
It was such an irrational thought Ghost could've laughed, he tried to, but it nagged at him; clogged his guts and mind, forcing itself to the fore front. He just needed a little reassurance is all. Just... needed to know they weren't gone. Not yet.
Picking up a bobby pin off the night stand, Ghost slipped out his room as quiet as his name sake. Johnny was closest by, he thought, ignoring that logistically Price was closer. He stalked through the empty halls, bare feet padding against the concrete floor.
The familiar door stood in front of him, and just to be sure Ghost reached out to slowly twist the knob. He predictably found resistance. Unfortunately for Soap, Ghost could pick a lock with his eyes closed. He bent the bobby pin, carefully sliding it into the key hole and wiggling it around until he heard a click. He twisted the knob again, this time the lock giving way.
Ghost took a step in, shutting the door after him. Through the pitch black he could see Johnny laying in bed, sleeping in the most uncomfortable position possible. Under his mask he grinned. John was a strange one, shouldn't have surprised him to see him like that, legs contorted in a position that undoubtedly would leave him sore in the morning.
God he looked peaceful, mouth open and drool dribbling out. Ghost wasn't trying to get caught, wouldn't dream of taking the slightest risk of waking him, but he just needed to get closer to see him breathing. His bare feet dragged against the smooth concrete, steps inaudible as he crept forward.
John MacTavish was breathing. Of course he fucking was, no reason for him to just drop dead. The Sargent was 26, not the freshest but not likely to suddenly drop. Unless he had a heart condition or something. Ghost doubted that though.
... He would've mentioned if he could just keel over like that, right? Wouldn't have been allowed in the service if he could. He could've lied though. Neglect to mention it during enrollment, and no one ever asked. Irrational fear grabbed him, and despite watching him breath and knowing he was alive, he wondered what his heart rate was. If it was slowing by the second and by morning if he'd be dead.
Ghost wanted to slap himself upside the head for thinking stupid shit like that. All he was doing was winding himself up. He was smarter then this. Better then this. He shouldn't even be here, looked like a fucking demon standing in the dark, wearing just his skivies and balaclava. If he was smart he'd turn around, go back to bed, and pretend this never happened.
Yet the thought nagged at him, the worry settled in his gut and snake into the fiber of his being. He couldn't risk waking Johnny up, but he just... needed to make sure. Against his better judgement Ghost crept closer, two fingers coming to press into the pulse in his arm.
Suddenly Soap's hand shot out from under his pillow, grabbing Ghost by the wrist. Fight or flight kicked in swiftly. The lieutenant grabbed both hands and pulled John out of bed, Ghost's muscular arms wrapping around MacTavish's head to trap him in a head lock.
"Bloody fucking- Ghost?" Soap asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. Ghost dropped him after that. MacTavish quickly shuffled away, getting to his feet and briefly trying to fix his disheveled appearance. He was a mess obviously, Ghost had just dragged him out of bed in the middle of night. "The fuck are ya doin?" He hissed angerly.
"Thought I 'eard somethin." Ghost coolly explained, like he hadn't just been caught watching his subordinate sleeping.
"In the middle a the fockin night?" Johnny asked, his irritation growing.
"... you snore like a steam boat, Johnny." Was all Ghost offered as an explanation.
"Fockin hell Ghost." Soap shook his head in disbelief, turning to look at his door and finding it firmly shut. His head whipped back around, baffled. "Dij'you pick the lock?"
" 's the military Johnny, everyone knows 'ow to pick locks."
"Bloody christ," Johnny paused, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "What tha fock are you doin? I know for a fuckin' fact I don' snore, so what are ya actually 'ere for?"
"Like I said, 'eard a noise." Ghost insisted.
" 'n what'd grabbin me 'ave to do with that?" Soap asked.
"...You snore."
" 'aven't snored a day in me life." John scoffed. "You gonna explain yerself or do I gotta bring it up with Price in the 'mornin?"
Soap deadpanned. That little fucker had him pinned. Sighing in exasperation, Ghost shook his head. "Again, 'eard a noise. Came ta check on ya, figured you might've had some breathin issue." Ghost explained, and it was half true. John didn't need to know about the dreams, that was his own business.
"What, ya thought I was dyin' er somethin?" Soap asked. Ghost could see him cracking a small smirk, even in the dark. "For Christ's sake, 'm 26 Ghost. Not gonna drop dead 'n tha middle 'a the night."
"Better safe 'en sorry." Ghost shrugged. "Guess that wraps that up then." He said, briskly walking towards the door.
"Wait, wait, wait." Soap said, and for some reason Ghost stopped.
"What?"
"You sleep with 'at thing on?" Soap asked, gesturing to his balaclava.
Ghost's expression somehow went flatter then it already was. "Yeah."
"Paranoid bastard. That why ya broke in? Worried I mighta died er somethin?" Soap asked, more teased. Smug fucking bastard.
"Ya wish. G'night Sarg." Ghost scoffed, walking again.
"Ah-ah, 'old on." Soap said. "You broke into mi fockin room and think ya get ta just walk off?"
" 'xactly, yeah." Ghost nodded.
Soap frowned. "Yeah, sit 'own LT." He said, nodding to a nearby chair.
Ghost raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"
"Sit down, only gonna offer 'is once." Soap sighed, getting back in bed. "Think it'd make ya feel better."
Ghost was puzzled for a moment, trying to think what he meant, and then it clicked. He raised a brow. "Really want me ta watch you sleep?"
"Already 'ave." Soap shrugged, tossing the thin covers back over himself.
Ghost frowned. "You make me sound like a pervert, Johnny."
"Ya are. Breakin into a man's room when he's indecent ain't exactly proper etiquette." Soap argued, smirking. "Almost think you get off on it."
"Think you're the one gettin off on it." Ghost disputed, sitting down. The chair creaked under his weight and he ignored it, opting to stay quite.
Soap didn't comment either, instead turning around so he faced the wall. Ghost assumed he was getting too tired to snark. Wouldn't blame him, it was fucking late.
Shortly after Ghost heard a faint snort, presumably meaning Soap was asleep. With that Ghost quietly got up and left the room. No point in sticking around after, he didn't have any interest in watching John sleep. Just wanted to make sure he was alive, which Ghost was now sure of. He was as lively as ever, even at 4 in the morning.
Ghost slipped into his own room, returning to bed. He wasn't gonna get anymore sleep tonight, never did after his dreams, but at least now he'd lay in bed feeling a little better knowing Soap was still alive, just down the hall.