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Sitting in the recreation room was the entirety of task force 141. Today was one of the rare days that the entire team had a free night. Their last mission went surpisingly according to plan which is always a relief. Price is sitting in his arm chair that was designated the 'dad chair’, regardless of Price's complaints on the name no one stopped calling it that.
Gaz and Ghost were sitting on the couch with a good amount of space in between them. People knew to keep their distance from Ghost. The man has made it clear that he liked his space and has proven he will physically harm someone for it, with that fact most people respect his wish.
To no ones suprise Soap is not one of those people, currently he was sitting on the arm of the couch practically leaning on the “scary” Lieutenant.
“And then KABOOM!” Soap spread his arms wide emphasizing his excited shouting, “I nearly lost my beautiful hair, from the heat of that baby!” he shuttered at the thought of loosing his iconic hair.
Gaz scoffed fondly as he rolled his eyes, “Would have been a blessing if you did, would have saved us all from looking at that horrendous haircut everyday.”
The words struck hurt through Soap but he didn't let the emotion show on his face, “You're just jealous!” He tried joking, reaching over with his foot to kick the other Sergeant.
At that Price spoke, “Soap, if Gaz cut his hair like yours I'd actually encourage him to keep his cap on.”
Soap knew they were joking. They always joke like this and normally he doesn't mind, hell most of the time he encourages it, but it's getting close to the anniversary of his mum's death.
His amazing wonderful mother who decided to cut his hair like this in the first place.
It’s been many years since her death, he kept his hair in memory of her. Hearing his team, his family, make fun of it hurts.
“It’s not that bad,” he tried to protest.
The final nail in the coffin hit when Ghost joined in, “Whatever you say, Johnny.”
Making sure he still had a smile on his face, he stood up to stretch, “Getting late isn't it?”
Price nodded in agreement and stood up as well, “Soaps right, I'm too old to be getting less than 6 hours of sleep unless necessary.”
At the captain's declaration Soap left without another word, missing Ghost's gaze on him.
Once Soap got to his room he went straight to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Running a hand through his hair, he never thought it looked bad despite people insistently commenting otherwise.
He never cared about the opinions of strangers he drove to bring pride to his friends and family.
And that's the problem, no matter how much he loved his hair, how much his mum did, if it really bothered his team why would he keep it?
He promised his mum he'd always do his best to stay surrounded by people he loved, people who loved him back. If his hair is such a bother to them then he sees no point in keeping it.
With his mind made up Soap reached for the drawer with his electric hair trimmer, took it out and set it up.
Running his hands through his hair one last time, he turned on the clippers and got to work.
—
Ghost watched Soap as he left, worry creeping up on him. He could tell Johnny was upset, he didn't know necessarily why, could it have been the teasing?
The team does it to each other all the time, it would be more worrying if they weren't joking about something.
Without realizing the others left, he stood alone in the room. Could it have been something else making Johnny upset, maybe Ghost was just imagining things to begin with. He doubted it though, a nagging feeling was telling him to go check on the other. It was late though and Johnny is probably going straight to bed.
On his way to his room he decided if Johnny was still upset in the morning, he would do whatever he could to cheer him up.
–
After Soap shaved his head he cleaned up the mess then collapsed into his bed. He felt as if a part of him was missing, like a piece of his heart had been torn out of his body and thrown into the same trash his hair was in.
He ran his hands over the buzz cut, it was strange, he didn't like it. He hoped his team would accept him more now that he got rid of his stupid haircut. Still he couldn't get rid of the part of him that wanted it back
He felt pathetic, it was just hair there is no reason to be acting the way he was, besides now he fits into proper military standards, it was an overall tactical decision.
With his actions fully justified he ignored the longing feeling and went to sleep.
—
Ghost sat at the cafeteria table that Gaz and Price were already occupying. He did a quick search for Johnny, when he found no trace of the man he gave Gaz a questioning look.
Gaz just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of “I'll text him.”
Five minutes later he heard Johnny's familiar footsteps behind him coming their way.
Price looked up from the paperwork he has set at the table to greet the other before he froze and stared at the man, “Soap?”.
At the question Ghost looked back to see what was wrong, he immediately tensed. There Johnny stood, but his head was shaved. His beautiful Mohawk was gone, and Ghost felt dread wash over him.
He knew Soap was upset last night, but he didn't say anything thinking it couldn't have been too serious, the team was just joking with him, he never thought it would drive Johnny to remove a part of himself.
“Soap? Why? What's with the hair?” Ghost heard Gaz's question.
Johnny just shrugged, “It's for the best.”
“The best?” Ghost questioned, why would Johnny shaving his head be for the best?
Johnny looked at them with confusion, “Do you not like it?”
The table went silent at Johnny’s question. Price furrowed his brow, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it again, clearly unsure how to respond. Gaz leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. Ghost, however, kept his gaze fixed on Johnny, his eyes narrowing behind the mask.
“Sergeant,” Price finally said, his tone gentle but serious. “You didn’t need to do that. We were just messing around. That’s how we bond, you know that.”
Soap’s forced smile tightened at the edges, “I know,” he said, his voice soft, almost brittle. “But I figured it’s time for a change anyway. Always good to… keep things fresh, right?” He gestured vaguely at his head, his chuckle hollow and devoid of his usual spark.
Ghost’s stomach twisted. He’d seen Johnny put on a brave face countless times before, but this was different. There was something in the way he held himself now, a fragility that Ghost hated seeing. His voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“Johnny,” he said quietly, his tone unusually gentle.
Soap’s smile faltered slightly but didn’t disappear. His hands, which had been resting on the table, twitched before he forced them still. “It’s just a change. Felt like the right time, you know?”
Price studied him for a moment, clearly wanting to press further but ultimately choosing not to. “Well,” he said gruffly, “it’s your head, your choice. But you didn’t need to change our account.”
Soap gave a short nod, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I know, Cap. Let’s just eat, yeah?”
Gaz and Price exchanged a glance before turning their attention to their breakfast. Ghost, however, kept his eyes on Soap, his instincts screaming that something wasn’t right. Johnny was deflecting, and he was damn good at it. Too good.
The meal passed in relative silence, the usual banter subdued. Soap made an effort to participate, throwing out a few jokes here and there, but Ghost could see the cracks in his armor. He barely touched his food, and his laugh sounded hollow.
When breakfast was over, Soap was the first to leave, mumbling something about needing to get ready for the day. Ghost watched him go, his jaw tightening. He waited until the others had dispersed before heading in the same direction.
—
Ghost found Johnny in the hallway outside the barracks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked up when Ghost approached, his expression carefully neutral.
“Simon,” he greeted, his tone casual. “What’s up?”
Ghost didn’t respond immediately. He stopped a few feet away, crossing his own arms as he studied Johnny. “You’re not okay,” he said bluntly.
Soap’s smile wavered. “What’re you on about? I’m fine.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Johnny,” Ghost said, his voice low but firm. “I know you. Something’s eating at you, and it’s got nothing to do with wanting a ‘fresh start.’”
Soap’s gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw clenching. “It’s nothing, Simon,” he muttered. “Just drop it, yeah?”
“No,” Ghost said simply. He stepped closer, his tone softening. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but don’t lie to me. Not about this.”
Soap’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.
He stepped closer, “I’m not dropping it. You’re not fine, and I’m not walking away until you tell me what’s going on.”
Soap’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “It’s none of your business,” he snapped, his voice sharper than Ghost had heard in a long time.
“It is my business,” Ghost shot back, his tone unwavering. “You’re my sergeant, my friend. I’m not letting you spiral while I stand here and pretend I don’t see it.”
“I’m not spiraling!” Soap’s voice rose, echoing down the hall. His arms uncrossed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I don’t need you to fix me, Ghost!”
Ghost took another step forward, his eyes locked on Johnny’s. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to understand. But you’re shutting me out.”
“Because it’s not your problem!” Soap yelled, his voice breaking slightly. He looked away, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. “It’s not your problem, Simon. Just… leave it.”
Ghost didn’t move. “No,” he said quietly. “I’m not leaving. Whatever this is, you don’t have to carry it alone. But you need to let me in.”
Soap’s jaw tightened, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t do that.”
“Why?” Ghost’s voice softened again, his gaze searching Johnny’s face. “Why can’t you let me in?”
“Because if I do…” Soap’s voice broke completely, and he shook his head. “If I do, it’ll all come out, and I can’t deal with that, not here.”
Simon stood there silently for a moment before suddenly grabbing Soap’s arm and dragging him down the hall. The only protest from Johnny was a grunt of surprise, his boots scuffing against the floor as he stumbled to keep up.
Within a minute, they were in Ghost’s room, the door quickly shutting behind them with a soft click. The space was dimly lit, but it felt safe—like a refuge.
Simon let go of Soap’s arm and turned to face him, his dark eyes unreadable behind the mask. He gestured toward the bed. “Sit,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Johnny hesitated for a moment before sinking down onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched. He avoided Simon’s gaze, staring at his hands as they twisted together in his lap.
Ghost knelt in front of him, his presence steady but not overwhelming. “There,” he said, his voice low and even. “Now no one else will bother us. You can do or say whatever you want, and I promise it won’t leave this room. It’s just you and me, Johnny.”
Soap’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting toward Ghost before dropping back to his hands. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start,” he admitted, his voice trembling.
“Start wherever you want,” Ghost said gently. “Or don’t start at all. You don’t owe me anything. But you’re carrying something heavy, and it’s hurting you. Let me help.”
Johnny’s breath hitched, and he shook his head, his hands gripping his knees tightly. “It’s not… it’s not that simple, Simon. There’s stuff… stuff I’ve never told anyone.”
Ghost leaned back slightly, giving him space. “I’m not anyone,” he said quietly. “You know that.”
Soap’s shoulders trembled as he fought to keep himself together. He sniffed, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “I just… I didn’t think it’d hit me this hard,” he murmured. “Cutting it off. It’s just hair, right? But it’s not. It’s more than that. It’s her.”
Simon didn’t interrupt, didn’t push. He stayed silent, letting Johnny work through his thoughts at his own pace.
“My mum,” Johnny finally said, his voice cracking. “She used to cut my hair for me. She loved it, you know? Said it suited me, made me look bold. After she…” He trailed off, his hands clenched into fists. “After she died, I kept it for her. It was stupid, I know. Just… holding on to something small, something that made me feel close to her.”
“It’s not stupid,” Ghost said firmly, his voice steady. “Not even a little.”
Soap’s eyes filled with tears, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to keep them at bay. “It was the last bit of her I had left,” he whispered. “And now it’s gone. I just… I didn’t want you all to think I was ridiculous, holding on to something so bloody sentimental.”
“Johnny,” Simon said, his tone soft but unyielding. “You think we care about that? About the bloody haircut? We care about you. About what you’re carrying.”
That did it. The walls Johnny had been holding up so desperately finally crumbled, and the first tear slipped down his cheek. Then another. And another. He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as the floodgates opened.
Simon didn’t hesitate. He reached out, his gloved hand resting lightly on Johnny’s shoulder. “Let it out,” he said quietly. “You’re allowed to feel this, Johnny. You don’t have to hold it all in.”
Soap sobbed, the sound muffled against his palms. He didn’t try to speak, didn’t try to explain. He just let himself grieve—for his mum, for the piece of himself he’d lost, for the weight he’d been carrying for so long.
Ghost stayed with him through it all, his presence solid and unshakable. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or try to force Johnny to stop crying. He just stayed, his hand a steady anchor on Johnny’s shoulder.
When the sobs finally began to subside, Johnny lowered his hands, his face red and tear-streaked. He sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
“Don’t be,” Simon said simply. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
Soap managed a shaky laugh, though it was more breath than sound. “Didn’t think you’d ever see me like this,” he admitted. “A right mess.”
“We all have our moments,” Ghost replied. “You’re not alone in that, Johnny. And you don’t have to face this alone either.”
Soap looked at him, his blue eyes still glistening but filled with something else now. Gratitude. Hope.
—
A month later Johnny is looking in his bathroom mirror with Simon standing behind him. Soaps hair has grown just long enough for him to be able to run his hands through it. He was ready for a haircut, he wanted his haircut back.
Simon sets a hand on the younger’s shoulder, “You ready?”
With one last look in the mirror John nods and sits on the toilet seat so the other can run the electric razor through it.
Ghost takes his time making sure the hairstyle is perfect, not allowing himself to mess up once. When the buzz of the razor discontinued he ran a hand through Soap’s hair signaling that he could get up and take a look.
John suddenly hesitated, “Simon-” He abruptly cut himself off.
“Hey it’s okay, take your time, there's no rush.” Ghost says soothingly.
Soap doesn't know why he's so scared to see the Mohawk back on his head. The piece of him he lost the night he first cut it off has not left or even lessened, he should be ecstatic that he has his Mohawk back.
Simon has done more than enough to reassure him that it was a great idea to get it back, it makes no sense to be feeling the way he does.
With one swift movement John gets off the toilet and glances in the mirror, he takes in a small breath when he finally sees himself.
Joy fills him, the missing piece suddenly overtaken, and he lets a smile spread across his face. He meets eyes with Ghosts through the mirror and he can see the others eyes are crinkled, under the mask Soap is sure he is smiling.
“Thank you, Simon. It’s perfect.”