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English
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Published:
2025-09-27
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1,067
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1/1
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Making it

Summary:

Ghost watches as Kyle gets the life that was stolen from him down in that tunnel.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Price doesn't sugarcoat it. He specifically calls Roach the replacement. And Ghost knows he doesn’t mean it like that, but it’s quite literally what the lad is brought on to be. Knowing though, doesn’t stop him from taking a swing at their captain in private the first time he hears the words.

It’s hard. Hearing his Johnny be talked about as if it meant nothing at all. As if his sacrifice was just another fucking Tuesday on the job. Everything is hard these days.

Ghost’s despondence doesn’t stop the team from quickly considering Gary Sanderson family. And being a replacement doesn't stop Kyle from falling headfirst in love with him.

It happens easily from the looks of it; the whole connection seems meant to be. Like the smallest butterfly effect had purposely been leading to their meeting. A bullet here, a flap of wings there, and two souls find their way to one another.

Familiar, that.

He has to watch as his best mate gets the life that was stolen from him down in that tunnel.

Gaz and Roach. Where once was Ghost and Soap, everything becomes Gaz and Roach. It’s not possible to hear one’s name without the other tacked on. Not possible to see one without the other trailing behind.

Ghost feels like he should warn them, even if they’re both still dancing around one another like twats. Happiness together is unlikely. They may as well count their days together numbered. He should tell them to make merry while they can. Enjoy every second in each other’s presence while they're both still on the planet at the same time.

But he doesn't say anything. It's not to save feelings. It's out of pure jealousy. Spite.

Price throws him looks sometimes when he catches Ghost staring at them. As if the captain thinks he’s somehow going to sabotage the happy not-couple.

Some days he wants to. Some days he wants to spit at Gaz for the betrayal, even if he knows that’s not what it is. Some days he wants to push Roach out of their helicopter—he doesn’t think he’d be quite so lucky as Gaz. But he behaves. Of course he does. Just because his life has gone dark doesn't mean the light shouldn't keep shining for the people he loves.

Across from him on the plane, Roach nods off against Gaz’s shoulder. Ghost puts forth a valiant effort not to roll his eyes, but Gaz notices anyway.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why do you always look like you wanna kill me these days? Am I being too nice to the replacement?” Gaz motions to the tuckered out heap against him, arm instinctively and maybe subconsciously wrapping around him. Protective. They’ve not even known one another for a year and they wouldn't hesitate to blow entire missions for each other.

He gets it. Hates how deeply he understands.

He wishes he could hate him, but the truth of the matter is it’s impossible not to like the lad. He’s a good sort. Good for Gaz especially.

That’s something he misses most. Someone who made him better just by being near. Someone who made him happy.

Now Soap is just someone who pulls at his neck with the pendant a pinch of his remains are trapped inside. Ghost, forever clinging to the illusion of having him around. Chasing ghosts.

“Reckon I’m just jealous.” The honest words slip out before he even really thinks them over. He shrugs a shoulder like he didn’t just admit something staggering.

Kyle’s face twists.

“Don’t,” Ghost orders before he can start in with guilt ridden apologies. “I miss him. That's it. Not your fault, Sergeant.”

“I miss him too.”

Sure looks like it, he doesn’t say because that would be insanely petty.

“And I miss you, you know?” Gaz says after a minute.

It sure as hell doesn't heal him, but it does kickstart his dead heart back into a pitiful semblance of beating.


When in a group or in public, Gary only really speaks when necessary. He's heard maybe ten words out of the guy, and they've all been tactical. Which is why he's caught completely off guard while wandering into the common room in the middle of the night, hearing an unfamiliar voice going a mile a minute right before he turns the corner to step in.

Gaz laughs at whatever the voice has just said, and he instantly knows who it belongs to. His heart clenches in his chest, and he lingers behind the threshold out of view. Like a creepy bastard.

No matter how much time passes, it doesn't get easier. Remembering how to be a person. He'd started to learn again with him, but so much for that. Maybe he's just not meant to be domesticated. Always destined to be a frightened wild animal surviving alone.

"Kyle," comes a gentle whisper, all the reverence in the world held in that name.

He doesn't need to see to know this is the start of a whole new beginning for them.


Ghost thinks Gary Garrick sounds like a fucking stupid name, but it's none of his business. Kyle is happy. Roach is happy. And Roach had been insistent upon taking the Garrick name.

The whole ordeal makes him wonder what name he or Johnny would've taken. If they would've gone through the trouble of name changes. If they ever would've made it that far in the first place. He likes to believe they would've.

Simon MacTavish.

John Riley.

John Riley sounds so fucking English—Soap would've blown a gasket. And Ghost would’ve taken his name in a heartbeat. Might’ve even begged him for it.

In another life.

In this one, he’s standing rigid as the best man in a wedding that wouldn’t be happening had Johnny never died.

He pretends it doesn't claw at his heart, the quiet acceptance he’s come into.

The vows are fitting. Not cheesy but blunt in a way their line of work has turned them. His throat closes up at one point during Gaz's part, and his fingers close around the pendant dangling from his neck.

They clearly love each other more than anything. Their first kiss as a married couple is triumphant, both parties pulling away with wide grins. Looks that say we made it.

"We made it, LT."

He swears he can still hear him clear as a bright summer's day.

Notes:

I wish I could write 10k more words of this. Alas