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There’s always a slow shift of energy as mid-December rolls around on base, as everyone chatters about their holiday plans, and Christmas music thrums lowly in the mess hall at all hours. The newest recruits hanging around base commiserate in their misery of not being able to go home this year. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), there are several SAS officers that also stay on base for the holidays, having nowhere else to go. Captain MacTavish is among this group— his sisters all celebrate with their spouses, and while he’s invited to come along, he never really feels the desire to— after all, there’s no rest for the wicked. He doesn’t want to abandon his post while they’re already understaffed.
Another person that’s on base for the holidays is Ghost, and while he’s always volatile and hot-headed on an average day, it becomes more apparent as Christmastime rolls around. MacTavish assumes it must be due to some family issue, which is common in the SAS– not many people willingly sign their life away if they have a stable family back home.
Ghost had only been his Lieutenant for about three weeks, and MacTavish was struggling to form a solid opinion on him. General Shepherd had practically presented Ghost to him like he would a new weapon, promising that he would be a useful asset to the team. He wasn’t wrong— Ghost could basically do anything; it was like he wasn’t even human. The only thing he wasn’t good at, which Shepherd had conveniently failed to mention, was his inability to work with a team.
He had a habit of ignoring orders and mouthing off to superior officers— including MacTavish. He wasn’t really getting along with the rest of the 141, despite their best efforts. The only one he seemed to be on okay terms with was Roach— probably something about his quiet, subdued nature. Ghost’s unfriendliness annoyed MacTavish, but he knew that he was just a man, like the rest of them. There had to be a different side to him; buried deep, deep down…
MacTavish starts to have a problem with Ghost’s shift in attitude the night of Christmas Eve, where the remaining 141 officers are celebrating and drinking together in the rec room. Everyone was getting along when MacTavish left to use the bathroom, but when he came back two minutes later, Ghost and Fuse— an American soldier assigned to their task force for a brief stint— were on the floor wrestling and throwing punches like children. Roach was trying to say something to Ghost while attempting to drag him off of Fuse, but Ghost was stronger.
“Jesus—“ MacTavish huffed, stepping in to help Roach, and their combined strength was enough to pull Ghost up and off of Fuse, whose nose was bleeding and possibly slightly broken, but seemed okay otherwise.
“The fuck is your issue, Lieutenant?” MacTavish snapped, yanking Ghost by the collar of his jacket to face him. Ghost narrowed his eyes at him, before shouldering his way out of MacTavish’s grip and stalking out of the rec room. Roach glanced at MacTavish, who nodded at him in permission to go chase Ghost down.
“I told you he’s a fuckin’ lunatic, Captain,” Fuse said once they were gone, muffled by the towel Meat gave him to staunch his bleeding nose.
“What happened?”
“We were just joking around. It was nothing serious.”
MacTavish directed his glare to Meat.
“I didn’t hear anything until Fuse was already on the ground,” Meat raised his hands up in surrender, his voice slightly slurred.
“Alright,” MacTavished sighed. “Sorry about that, Fuse. I’ll go talk to him.”
-
Ghost, like his namesake, was very good at making himself practically invisible when he wanted to be. MacTavish had checked nearly everywhere around base, but Ghost was nowhere to be found.
He runs into Roach in the hallway at one point, and he reports that he has also had no luck in tracking down Ghost.
“Thank you, Sanderson,” MacTavish says, clapping a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder. “I’ll find him. Go back to the others, okay?”
Roach nods, but seems to hesitate slightly. He opens his mouth to speak after a moment, but MacTavish beats him to it.
“I’ll let you know when I find him,” MacTavish promises. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Roach replies immediately, bristling. “Thanks, though.”
MacTavish huffs a short laugh as Roach scurries down the hallway, before resuming his search. He starts looking around the more secluded areas on base, assuming that Ghost is actively trying to not be found. Eventually, he finds a heavy door down a quiet service hallway that he knows leads to the roof.
MacTavish nudged the door open as quietly as possible, and was more surprised by the fact that Ghost didn’t seem to hear him open it than he was by the fact that Ghost was actually there. Ghost had his head in his hands as he leant against the railing on the roof, his mask pulled over his nose and a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. Ghost’s shoulders shook slightly, and MacTavish felt the rest of the frustration melt out of his body in place of concern. He felt wholly unequipped to deal with this situation, but he couldn't just leave.
“Ghost?” MacTavish called out, not wanting to startle him too much. Ghost's head whipped over to face him, his expression stricken. He yanked his mask back down, his cigarette dropping down over the railing in the process, and turned his face away from him.
MacTavish went to stand next to him, still unsure what to really do, and rested his arms on the railing. The sky was inky black, with gray wispy clouds illuminated from the light posts that are scattered around base. MacTavish watched his breath fog up in front of him every time he breathed. He dug around his jacket pockets to find his cigarettes, holding the box out to Ghost once he found them.
“Want a new one?”
Ghost glanced over at him, meeting his eyes for a second, before looking down at his hand. He plucked a cig from the box with a cordial nod. MacTavish took one for himself before putting it away and patting around his pockets for a lighter. “Shit— you got a light, Ghost?”
Wordlessly, Ghost took his own out, lighting his own before holding the flame out to MacTavish. He leaned in, lingering for a few seconds to let the flame catch; Ghost’s pale blue eyes bored into his own, framed by dark bags that served to make his gaze feel more piercing.
“Thanks,” MacTavish murmured, bringing the cig to his lips and taking a deep drag. He wasn’t as much of a smoker these days, but the hot rush of nicotine was familiar and warm in contrast to the cold air outside.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as Ghost, uncharacteristically hesitant, lifted the mask back over his nose and put the cigarette to his mouth. He had lots of small scars around his lips, most of them faded white, aside from one shinier, pinker scar that cut through the corner of his mouth.
MacTavish flitted his eyes back up to Ghost’s, only to see the other man was already staring at him. Ghost’s eyes hardened, before he huffed and turned away from him, shaking his head slightly.
“What are you doing here, Captain?”
“…Just went out for a smoke, like you,” MacTavish shrugged noncommittally.
“Sure,” Ghost scoffed, rolling his eyes like a moody teenager.
Despite his better judgement, MacTavish felt his irritation flare. “Ghost, you have to be aware that you’ve been acting like someone shoved a bloody stick up yer arse lately.”
“Why even try to lie if you’re not going to stay with it?” Ghost snapped back, an edge of exasperation in his voice.
“You should be speaking to me with more respect, Lieutenant.”
“You only pretend to care about rank when it’s convenient for you. Sir.”
MacTavish pinched the space between his eyebrows, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Ghost. I’m not tryin’ to start a fight with you, okay? I know that— something’s probably going on with you, or whatever. I just want—“
“Don’t act like you know me,” Ghost cut in venomously. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know, lad, but—“
“And you’re not going to convince me to apologize. He was trying to start something on purpose, just ask Roach— so, he got what he was asking for.”
“Ghost— just— listen to me, okay?” MacTavish was impressed with how even he was managing to keep his voice. “And stop bloody interrupting me, Jesus wept…”
Ghost shook his head with annoyance as if he didn’t care to give MacTavish an ounce of his attention, but MacTavish ignored him and pressed on. “I’m not here to tell you what to do, or yell at you, or whatever the fuck. I just— I guess I just wanted you to know that if something— stressful, has been going on, or if you’ve been struggling with anything… You can tell me, and I’m sure I can do— somethin’, just to make your life easier, yeah?” He tried not to wince outwardly at how jumbled the words came out, unpracticed with these sorts of conversations— but, he supposes he’s willing to put up with it if he can reach Ghost somehow, and figure out what’s going on inside his head.
Ghost didn’t reply, and was still staring ahead at the sky.
“It might help to talk about it, whatever it is,” MacTavish continued with a shrug. “It doesn’t have to be with me. I can refer you to a professional—“
“No,” Ghost said emphatically, shaking his head. “I don’t need that. I just—“ he cut off, and his eyes narrowed as if he was looking over mission plans as he deliberated over what to say.
“I—“ Ghost tried again, but his voice broke around the end of the word. MacTavish felt his heart drop to his stomach.
“I’m sorry, I— I’m just gonna— go,” Ghost rushed out, making to leave. He already had his hand on the door handle when MacTavish’s brain caught up to the situation.
“Wait— Ghost, hold on,” MacTavish grabbed his elbow to stop him. Ghost didn’t try to force his way out, but he stayed facing the door, refusing to let MacTavish look at him.
“Just— I’m here for you, y’know?” MacTavish said. They both stood there, unmoving, for another few moments, until MacTavish awkwardly let go of Ghost, not wanting to hold him here against his will. But to his surprise, Ghost didn’t run away the second he was able to— he stayed still, still facing the door, until he finally turned slightly, peering up at MacTavish, something desperate in his expression.
MacTavish didn’t consider himself a comforting presence, not by any means, but the sight of his watery, piercing blue eyes made him act before his brain could catch up.
“Come here,” he murmurs, reaching out to Ghost again to guide him towards himself. Ghost moved where he was guided to, and MacTavish didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his shoulders, pulling him in as close as possible.
Ghost was stiff as a board against him, and for a few agonizing moments MacTavish started to panic, thinking he had wildly overstepped— but then Ghost’s arms wrap around his waist, and he presses his face into the fabric of MacTavish’s hoodie.
“Shh, hen,” MacTavish whispers, trying his best to be soothing with the way he’s rubbing his thumb across the back of his neck, “I’ve got you, yeah?”
Ghosts arms tighten around him, and he hides his shuddering breaths into the skin of his neck. MacTavish holds him for as long as he needs, unable to help from rocking him ever so slightly back and forth. Ghost doesn’t cry loudly, but he sniffles heartbreakingly every so often, and MacTavish can feel wetness against his neck.
“I’m sorry,” Ghost mumbles against shoulder after a few minutes. His arms slide upwards slightly around MacTavish, his fingertips tracing the base of his neck.
“Don’t apologize. I don’t mind,” MacTavish speaks into his hair, where it’s hidden under the mask— and he finds that he means it sincerely.
Slowly, Ghost straightens himself up and off of MacTavish. He lingers in his space a bit, as if he doesn’t really want to let go. His eyes look even heavier than they had before.
“You look exhausted,” MacTavish comments, cupping the side of his face and rubbing a thumb across the visible skin under his eye before he has the mind to stop himself. Ghost tilts his head slightly into the touch, the movement seeming subconscious, like a cat.
“Haven’t been sleeping,” Ghost replies, his eyes never moving from MacTavish. His pupils flick back and forth as if he’s searching for something in MacTavish’s gaze.
MacTavish pulls back ever so slightly before he does something even more embarrassing. “If you wanted, you could come with me to my office while I do some work. I have blankets and pillows on the couch in there. Maybe a change of scenery would help you fall asleep?”
Ghost huffed a laugh at him, but it wasn’t derisive like it had been before. “Sure, sounds like a compelling change of scenery. And— I bet you sleep on your office couch more than your own bed, don’t you?”
“Mind yer own, Lieutenant,” MacTavish snarked. He holds the door open for him, and as Ghost passes by, his eyes are squinted as if he can’t help but smile— a stark contrast to the glazed, subdued expression he had before.
-
When they get to MacTavish’s office, he sets Ghost up on his couch, making to tuck the blanket over his shoulders with a cheeky grin. Ghost frees one of his arms, however, and unceremoniously pulls his mask off. His hair is light brown, maybe considered a dirty blonde— he had old scars all over his face, which may have looked gruesome years ago, but now were healed and framed the soft, angelic features of his face.
MacTavish turned away from him quickly, pretending to busy himself with something on his desk. His heart thumped like it was trying to burst out of his chest— no one told him that his Lieutenant was this pretty.
“Thank you, Captain,” Ghost mumbled from behind him. MacTavish turned around, and saw that Ghost was peering up at him, blanket tucked up over his chin.
“It’s not a problem, Ghost, really,” MacTavish replied, only slightly flustered. It was suddenly much harder to maintain eye contact with Ghost than it had been before…
“It’s— I don’t really like to… talk about it,” Ghost continued, after a few moments of silence. “But, this time of year is… not the best. For me. And Fuse was— just asking stuff about— about my family, and I know he was drunk and joking around, but I…”
“It’s okay, Ghost. I get it,” MacTavish said. “I mean, Fuse does run his mouth a bit too much.”
“Fucking tell me about it,” Ghost gripes. MacTavish smiles, and runs a hand through his soft hair, endeared by his indignation. Ghost tilts his head up to chase the touch again— he really was like a cat.
“Get some sleep, okay?” MacTavish murmurs to him. He cards a hand through his hair for a few more moments, watching with amusement how Ghost’s eyes start to droop sleepily.
“Yessir,” Ghost mumbles, turning his face in to the pillow and snuggling in. MacTavish sits at his desk to work, and he glances back at Ghost one more time before he gets into it. Ghost’s eyes are opened in slits, like he’s fighting sleep to keep watching him, and MacTavish is helpless to the warmth that blooms in his chest.