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If there’s one thing that Johnny hates more than anything, it’s bullies. Why does anyone think they can just be mean to whoever they want? It’s not right. His mom always tells him that if he sees something that isn’t right then he should do what he can to fix it. Well, really she told him to find a grown-up, but he can’t sit by and watch this anymore.
He was just trying to enjoy being outside. The playground was calling his name all day. He’s finally out of the classroom, practicing his climbing skills, and this happens. Do they not know that recess only lasts so long? Pretty soon they’ll have to go back inside and do more work. Work!
“Hey!” he yells, swinging off the bars he was hanging from. He runs over to the group of boys that were interrupting his playtime. There’s three of them, four if you count the one in the middle being picked on. He’s small, a lot shorter than Johnny. He isn’t someone that he recognizes either. Must be from one of the younger classes. “Leave him alone!” He shoves the closest boy who falls to the ground. The other two take a step back.
“We’re just playing, Johnny,” one of them says. The other helps their friend off the ground.
“Yeah, we were playing a game!”
Johnny really wants to hit them, but he knows his mom would be upset with him. “Just go away,” he says. “Play somewhere else.” It looks like they might say something else, but he raises a fist and they run off. It helps being the tallest boy in class. He reaches for the small kids and helps him to his feet. “Are you okay?”
The kid is quiet at first as he dusts off his pants. “I’m alright,” he says. “Thanks.”
Johnny notices that he talks different, like he’s not from around here. He’s got really pale hair and dark eyes. “I’m Johnny.” He smiles and offers out his hand like he’s seen his dad do to new people.
The other boy looks at Johnny’s hand for a second before he returns the gesture. They shake. “My name is Simon.”
Johnny grins, “It’s nice to meet you, Simon. We’re going to be friends, okay?”
The smaller boy smiles. “Okay, Johnny.”
Many years later…
“Soap! Front and center.”
John MacTavish leaves his spot in the mess hall line to stand in front of his commanding officer. “Here, sir.” He offers up a salute and stands at perfect attention.
“At ease, soldier,” his C.O. says. When the other man relaxes, he continues. “You’re being transferred. Orders came in a few minutes ago.” He hands Soap a manilla envelope. “Here’s the transfer information along with your schedule and travel requirements. They’re flying you out to your new post tonight. Go get your food and eat up. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”
Soap smiles as he looks through the paperwork. “Aye, aye, sir.” This is what he’s been waiting for, what he’s been working towards for months. It doesn’t say as much in the paperwork since his new assignment technically doesn’t exist, but he’s finally being pulled into the 141. The most elite taskforce in their region run by Captain John Price. The man is a legend. Soap was a grunt in an op run by Price when he was still pretty new to the force, and it was one of the greatest experiences of his military career. To be able to serve under the man directly? He can’t wait.
He barely even tastes his food as he thinks about finally getting his transfer. Not only will he be working under Captain Price but there’s also Kyle Garrick. Pretty sure his call name is Gas or something like that. One of the greatest demolitions experts on this side of the globe. His work on the Verdansk Op of 2015 is something that trainers and teachers in the army still talk about to this day. It’s something that sparked Soap’s own interest in demolitions, and he’s the reason that Soap even moved into that field of expertise.
Then, of course, The Ghost. Soap has no idea what the man’s real name is. He’s known by callsign only. His existence has even been questioned before. Does he really exist? But Soap knows that he does. He saw him once. Just barely, on that one mission led by Price. It really was just a glance, but those dark eyes set in that damn skull mask is something Soap won’t ever forget seeing. And the way he just appeared from the shadows like some sort of ethereal grim reaper…
Soap has really never been more excited to be transferred. He always aims to be the best, and there’s no one better than the 141.
He says his goodbyes to a couple comrades while he’s packing up his meager belongings. He learned a long time ago to keep it light since travelling around was always a possibility. He almost wishes that he would miss anyone from his old team, but none of them were that close. Sure, most of them were good people but they weren’t his people. His main goal over the last few years was to prove himself a good candidate for the 141 taskforce. This team and all of the ones before it were only stepping stones.
He’s so excited that he almost feels like throwing up when the helicopter they flew him in on finally lands. It’s a base he’s never been to before, relatively small. That makes sense since the 141 is a small group, and their support troops aren’t very high in number either. They’re meant to get things done where an actual army couldn’t.
“Sergeant MacTavish,” is the first thing he hears when he steps off the helo with his stuff. A tall, gruff man with mutton chops and a bucket hat holds out a hand to greet him.
“They call me, Soap, sir,” he says, shaking the man’s hand firmly. “It’s good to see you, Captain.”
Price smiles. “I’m sure we’ll get that story out of you eventually, Soap. It’s good to have you. Welcome to the 141.”
He doesn’t actually meet the other members of the 141 until breakfast the next day. First, he meets Kyle a.k.a. Gaz. It’s bright and early, and he’s one of the first ones at the door of the mess hall. Gaz isn’t far behind him.
“MacTavish, right?” the man says. He has a warm smile on his face. It’s really not fair for him to be just as nice as he is talented. And they say you should never meet your heroes.
“Aye, that’s me. Most people call me Soap though,” he says. They move through the hall to get food and find a table.
“Now Soap is a fun name,” Gaz says as they take a seat. “Me? They just said, Garrick is too much. You’re Gaz now. Like, come on. Try a little bit at least.”
Soap laughs. “Well, hey, it could be worse. Imagine they started calling you something else that you hated.” They talk more about callsigns and get into the normal everyday stuff when the mess hall doors bang open. A black-clad figure in an ever-present skull mask walks into the room. The hall drops totally silent for about a minute before noise starts to trickle back in.
Soap notices that Gaz looks surprised, in fact, most people do. “What is it?” he asks. He’s looking around for something amiss, but the only thing out of place the skull mask-wearing man in line for his food.
“That’s Ghost,” Gaz says, eyes locked on the massive man as he scans the room and spots their table.
Now it’s Soap’s turn to look surprised. “Yeah. I assumed as much. So? What’s the big deal?” He can’t believe it but the man in question seems to get even bigger as he approaches. He’s tall and it’s like his muscles are bulging out of his black top. His thighs aren’t fairing much better in his dark tact pants. Then, of course, the skull mask. He’s both intimidating and attractive at once. Soap really doesn’t know what emotion he feels more.
“He never eats in the mess hall,” Gaz whispers to Soap before he offers the approaching man a grin. “Good morning, Ghost.”
Soap still doesn’t really get it. What does he mean Ghost never eats in the mess hall? Like, never ever? Then why now? He watches as the man sits down with a grunt. His tray of food clunks down on the table but he makes no move to start eating. He’s just sat down next to Gaz like he does it every day. His arms cross over his chest and Soap gets a little distracted by the sight before he can force himself to try and have a conversation with the man.
The three of them sit there until it’s time to go to their first official team meeting. Ghost never does eat, but he does offer up a couple terrible jokes that Soap can’t help but laugh over. He offers up a couple of his own which don’t make Ghost actually laugh out loud but his eyes crinkle behind his mask and it does things to him. This is not good. But, he’s very excited that he has hit it off with not only Gaz but Ghost too. The Ghost. He was worried that he’d probably never be able to connect with someone that has the history and experience of Ghost, but he’s just a normal man. Which, obviously, yes, he’s a normal man. But he’s also Ghost.
The Ghost.
Soap had been prepared to wear the man down to his presence over time if he needed, but they had a good time over breakfast! He knew that coming to the 141 was going to be great.
They all get together well. He loves Gaz, he loves the Captain, and Ghost is hilarious. They make a great team. When they have their first successful mission? Soap’s in heaven. He’s still living off the high a couple days later doing laundry with Gaz.
“God, that was awesome,” he says as he rolls up a pair of socks. “And did you see the way that bridge exploded? I’ver blown up a bridge before.”
Gaz laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, so you keep saying.” He folds up a simple green shirt. “I can’t promise you we’ll blow up anymore bridges, but stick around and I’m sure you’ll get to blow up a building or something.”
“Promises, promises,” Soap also laughs. He remembers watching Ghost stepping up into the chopper, the bridge exploding in the distance. It was glorious. “Ghost wouldn’t stop talking about it either. He didn’t even blow it up.” Gaz gives him a weird look. “What?”
“You’re still pretty new around here,” Gaz says as he takes a seat beside Soap. “The Ghost you know, and the Ghost I know are two totally different people.”
Soap frowns, “What do you mean?”
“Before you came, none of us ever really saw him unless there was an Op. He’d be around for some training, but that’s it. Now, he’s sitting in the mess hall. He’s telling jokes.” Kyle shakes his head but he smiles. “It’s weird, but it’s good. I don’t know what you did, but keep it up. I’ve known him for years and I don’t even know if he knows my name.”
Interesting. This gives Soap something to think about. “Trust me, he knows your name. He says you’re a good shot in close range but your scope work is shit.” He gives the man a shove and tosses his freshly folded shirts in the air before he bolts with his own safely folded laundry.
“Hey!” Gaz yells after him. Soap just laughs.
He doesn’t really have a chance to think about the Ghost situation until later that evening after dinner. Technically, lights are supposed to be out, and he’s got an early morning meeting for a new OP on the horizon, but he can’t sleep. If Gaz hadn’t said anything then he wouldn’t have known at all that the Ghost he knows isn’t the Ghost that the base knows. Thinking about it, yeah, it seems like whenever Soap is around then the man is somewhat sociable and sometimes hilarious. But on the rare instances where he’s not on Ghost’s radar then it’s like the man really is a ghost. He’s not mean or rude or anything like that. It’s just that he’s almost bored or something. Like he doesn’t care. When Soap tried to actually look for it, yeah, he sees it.
Why is he so special?
Not that he minds being special to Ghost if he’s being honest. He’s always been a sucker for pretty eyes. But, he doesn’t even know the man’s name. He’s never seen his face. They’ve known each other for few weeks. Soap is great, sure, yes, he’s awesome, but he’s not special. At least, he shouldn’t be for Ghost. So why? Why?
And now he can’t sleep.
He’s about to give up even trying when there’s the smallest sound outside his door. Like a shuffle, someone is standing there, waiting. He knows who it is. He’s out of his bed and pulling the door open before Ghost is able to slip away on the other side.
“Ghost?”
The man freezes in his steps where he was indeed trying to slip away. “Johnny, hello. Funny seeing you here.”
Soap leans against his door frame and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s in one of his plain tees and a simple pair of sweats while Ghost looks like he could be coming or going from a mission. He smirks. “In my room?”
“Well, yeah, s’pose,” he shrugs his massive shoulders. “Good night, Johnny.” And he’s trying to walk off again.
“Ghost.” When the man freezes again, Soap makes up his mind. “Let’s talk,” he says. Ghost turns back towards him and simply looks at him for a minute before he shrugs again. “Yeah, alright.” He walks into the room and lets Johnny close the door behind them both.
They are silent but it’s not awkward. If anything, it’s actually kind of nice. But Soap needs to know what’s going on. First things first. “Why do you call me Johnny? Everyone else just calls me Soap.”
“It’s your name, right? You want me to stop?” Those dark eyes really shouldn’t be allowed to look at him like that.
“You don’t have to stop, I was just curious.” He offers the man a smile. “I haven’t gone by that since I was a boy.” He sits back on his bed, leaning against the wall his bed is pushed against. “But also, it doesn’t really seem fair that you know my name and I don’t know yours.” He’s trying to look like his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest.
“So you don’t remember me,” Ghost says, sounding somewhat disappointed. “I couldn’t forget you.”
That catches his attention. “What do you mean? Have we met before?” He knows he saw Ghost once before joining the team. But they never talked. They were hardly in the same room. “I would remember meeting you, L.T.”
The man chuckles. “Oh it was a long time ago, Johnny. I guess you wouldn’t recognize me now.”
For some reason, hearing his name again and looking into those eyes, much closer now as Ghost sits beside him, and seeing that his eyelashes are actually blonde triggers a barrage of memories from his youth. A small little boy with pale blonde hair and pretty eyes. They were inseparable for months before one day his friend never came back to school. He cried to his mother for a week straight when he realized that was never coming back.
“Simon…?”
Now Ghost is smiling. Even behind the mask, Soap can tell. “So you do remember me.”
“Fucking hell!” he exclaims, tossing an arm around the man’s shoulders. “I can’t believe it’s you! Lil’ Simon’s not so little anymore!” He really can’t believe it. “Is that really you?” He would continue but suddenly, Ghost is pulling off his mask and Soap is a little distracted when their lips meet. They kiss for hours or just a few seconds, he’s not sure. His heart is pounding in his ears and his lips are tingling when they pull apart.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Simon says. He pulls off one of his gloves and places a large warm hand on Soap’s face. His thumb traces his lips. “I recognized you right away.”
Soap leans into the touch and resists the urge to let his tongue get involved. “You should have said something sooner. We could have done this from the start.”
Simon laughs. “Okay, Johnny.”