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“Well, I don’t think this generator is going to start working anytime soon,” Gaz said with a sigh, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his glove. “You can turn that off, sir. Save some power,” he added, looking over at Ghost, who had been crouched down next to him, shining the flashlight where he needed to see.
Gaz wasn’t concerned about the lack of lights, but the lack of air conditioning. They were bunkered down in a safe house in Brazil, and after several days of surveillance and hiking in the rainforest, Gaz was dying for some relief. Everything was sweaty, and damp from the heat, and frankly, he had been dreaming of air conditioning, which this place was supposed to have.
And now it doesn't.
Starting to unfasten his vest with the intent to strip down in layers, Gaz paused, realizing that Ghost hadn’t turned off the flashlight yet, the sole beam of light appearing brighter now that the evening was fast approaching. He hesitated for a moment, but then the light flickered, and not wanting to lose one of their light sources, spoke up.
“Okay if I take the first shower, sir?” Gaz spoke, a bit louder than he normally would in an attempt to get Ghost’s attention and was glad to see Ghost turn in his direction, nod, and turn off the flashlight as he rose to his feet.
“Sure, Sergeant. I’ll go see if there’s anything edible here.”
It was on the tip of Gaz’s tongue to tease, to tell Ghost not to try cooking anything, because then the food definitely wouldn’t be edible, as their Lieutenant wasn’t the best chef of the 141, but held back. There was something…off about Ghost since they trekked out of the rainforest, and he wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but didn’t want to be a bother by asking Ghost if anything was wrong.
Not like Ghost would admit it anyways, Gaz thought to himself as he stepped into the shower, tensing slightly at the brisk chill of the pounding water but then basking in the coolness. The cold water felt like the best thing that had happened to him all week.
They had been tasked with tracking down a suspected hideout deep in the heart of the Brazilian rainforest, doing some preliminary assessment, surveillance, etc. It was kind of boring, to be honest, with a long walk in and out, and no back-up of course. But Gaz appreciated the break from being shot at, and the opportunity to get to know Ghost a bit more.
He wasn’t sure that Ghost would open up to him much, the older man not the most talkative of people, but it didn’t stop Gaz from chattering on, about his time with Alex in Urzikstan, or giving the step by step details of how he was shooting enemies upside down from the helicopter. And Ghost didn’t tell him to shut up or look annoyed, so he continued on, wondering if Ghost maybe was just tuning him out, appreciating some white noise. It wasn’t until the third night on their trek out that Ghost asked whether or not he had tried the kunefe while in Turkey with Alex that he realized that Ghost was listening carefully, the entire time.
Gaz was thankful at the time for the darkness of the night covering his blush, his excitement to finally start connecting with Ghost, and it was over food of all things. Gaz loved food, loved trying new cuisines, and he seized on the connection, finally getting up the nerve to ask Ghost a direct question the next morning on Ghost’s favourite teas, then eventually his favourite foods, to what he’d like to try next, and so forth.
Gaz was riding high on the connections he was building when it all started falling apart.
It took forever to find the safe house, Laswell’s intel being spotty at the best of times, and this was not the best of times.
Then it took forever to properly survey the site, which ended up being half underground, a series of what appeared to be tunnels connecting several pits in the area. And they couldn’t exactly pop down into a tunnel, so instead they had to wait until nighttime to feed some cameras down in.
Then Laswell wasn’t happy with the quality of photos they were sending in.
Finally Ghost snapped back, saying that was all they were able to get, and that they were on their way back in before hanging up on the CIA agent before she could get in another word. Gaz’s eyebrows had been raising the entire call, and he almost felt like clapping when Ghost made that move, only to have his good mood instantly dashed as they made their way back.
Ghost was grumpy. He didn’t want to pause, he didn’t want to rest. His sole mission seemed to be to get his ass out of that jungle as quickly as possible, Gaz stumbling along behind him.
Gaz wasn’t entirely sure what had changed for Ghost, as Laswell’s behaviour wasn’t really out of the ordinary. But there was something that had Ghost agitated, and Gaz did not want to make it worse.
Now, back in the safehouse, Gaz had been hoping that it would help to relax his LT, but the issue with the generator did not help. Letting out a loud sigh, Gaz finished rinsing off, figuring he had spent longer than he should in the cool water. Not bothering to put on his gear, he simply slid back into his pants, tugging his undershirt over his head, and walked towards the kitchen, fingers crossed that Ghost hadn’t started trying to cook.
*****
Gaz shifted on the couch, trying to keep himself awake. The warmth of the safehouse, combined with the darkness and the long trek back with minimal stops was making him extra sleepy, but he had offered to take first watch, and he did not want to have Ghost find him asleep on the couch when he came out to take over.
His stomach was helping, rumbling with hunger as the only thing that Ghost could find in the cupboards that was edible were beans, and it was only one can. Ghost had pried off the lid and ate about half, leaving the rest for Gaz, but all Gaz could eat were two spoonfuls before passing it back. Beans were not his favourite, but perhaps he should go see if the rest were still there.
Mentally groaning, Gaz stood up, and lumbered back into the kitchen. Peering into the can, he couldn’t make up his mind if he was happy or disappointed that there were still a few more spoonfuls of beans. Grimacing, he choked down the rest of the can quickly, in an effort to not taste them more than he needed to. Sticking his head under the tap, he drank directly from the stream of water when he heard a loud shout.
Barely avoiding whacking his head on the sink, Gaz straightened up, listening carefully.
He had nightmares frequently. They all did, having to see what they saw and do what they had to do. If a soldier ever said they didn’t, they were lying.
But most men preferred to deal with it on their own, and Gaz strongly suspected that Ghost would be embarrassed or furious if he tried to help. So he waited, and he listened.
Then, Gaz heard the most devastating wail he’d ever heard from another human being, And he wasn’t listening anymore.
Gaz sprinted to the bedroom, throwing open the door with his small penlight turned on, afraid at what he might find but there was no one else in the room except Ghost. Ghost was sobbing, tears running down his face as he clawed at the pillow as if he was trying to rip into the fabric with his fingernails.
Gaz faltered, still unsure what to do next but when Ghost started clawing at his own arms, Gaz then leapt into action again.
“No, no Ghost, stop that,” Gaz said firmly but gently as he climbed into the bed, pinning down Ghost’s flailing arms. “You’ll hurt yourself, sir. Please stop.”
It was a sign that Ghost was not himself when he didn’t fight back, Gaz easily subduing the older man. Using his thumbs to apply some pressure, Gaz gently massaged Ghost’s wrists, continuing to talk quietly as Ghost continued to sob, his eyes tightly closed. After several minutes, Ghost’s breathing started to even out, his body relaxing into the bed, but Gaz found himself not wanting to let go either, the warmth of Ghost’s wrists, the pulse beating under his fingertips also calming himself.
Then Ghost surged upwards and out of Gaz’s grasp, only to flop on top of Gaz, his head tucking under Gaz’s chin, his cheek resting on Gaz’s chest before falling back asleep, loud snores quickly filling the room.
Gaz was shocked. And stunned. And stuck.
Very stuck.
But as Gaz laid there, trapped under Ghost’s impressive body size, he found himself not minding one bit, eventually succumbing to sleep as well.
*****
When Gaz woke the next morning, Ghost was already up, conversing with Alejandro and Rudy, who were going to come help with their exfil, acting like he hadn’t spent most of the night tucked up alongside Gaz’s chest.
It was puzzling, but Gaz wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it or anything.
It wasn’t until much later in their friendship, that Ghost thanked him for that night, and then much later in their relationship that Ghost finally confided in him.
Told Gaz how being hot and in the dark reminded him too much of the grave that he had been buried in. And that resting his head against Gaz’s chest, hearing Gaz’s heartbeat, was what had helped to calm him that night.
Gaz had cried then, having only heard rumors of Ghost’s past prior, the reality being so much more horrifying.
But Ghost had known exactly what to do; he took Gaz into his arms, tucking the younger man up under his chin. Now Gaz was resting on Ghost’s chest in that exact spot, listening closely to Ghost’s heartbeat.
It really was the best spot to be.