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MacTavish groaned as his laptop battery flashed empty, he hadn’t realised it had been so low. Though it made sense, he supposed, as the entire day had been consumed by the sheer amount of work he’d left to pile up. The device was bound to run out of charge eventually. It just would have been nice if it hadn’t been when he was in the middle of a report that was fairly time critical for submission.
A quick search under his desk and a rummage through the drawers confirmed the fact his charger was not in the room, making him remember that Riley had pinched it a week ago after his own had broken. It was a stark reminder that MacTavish had not been on top of his work if his laptop hadn’t been out of charge in a week.
In fact, MacTavish hadn’t even seen Riley for three days- the other man had been called away on a solo operation for General Shepard and when he’d returned, had refused to show up at meals, or training, or even to hole up on MacTavish’s office couch like he usually did of an evening. Soap only knew he was back because he’d seen the list of aircraft entering and exiting the airfield.
Shogun had come to him earlier that day with concerns about the Lieutenant, apparently the team hadn’t seen him either. MacTavish had sworn he was going to find Ghost and ask him what was wrong, but had let it slip away from him in his haste to work through the backlog of reports and mission files he had to sift through.
Now though, was as good a time as any to hunt down the elusive bastard. If only because he needed his charger back.
MacTavish stood up, ignoring the slightly painful crack of his joints as he did so, and headed down the corridor towards the Gym. Riley had an affinity for working out late at night when there was nobody else around, especially if he couldn’t sleep, so it seemed like a good place to start looking.
When he reached the gym, the lights were off - which generally suggested a lack of activity - but something told him to continue forward. So he did, shouldering the door open and wincing as the hinges squeaked so loud you could’ve probably heard it in Australia. Whoever was in charge of the WD40 in this place clearly wasn’t paying much attention to the Gym doors.
As he entered, the first sound that greeted him was the rhythmic thud of fists hitting a punching bag, confirming his hypothesis that Riley would be in there. He squinted against the darkness, eyes adjusting slower than he would’ve liked, and managed to make out the lieutenant's frame in the far corner of the room, using boxing equipment.
“Riley.” He murmured as he got closer, knowing Ghost had sharper hearing than a bat and wouldn’t appreciate his name being shouted in his ear. Honestly it surprised him the other man hadn’t heard the door open, what with the racket that it made.
True to his stereotype, Riley’s head snapped around moments after he’d spoken- eyes widening in surprise to find MacTavish standing there. He continued to hit the bag though, barely faltering.
“What are you doing in here in the dark, hm?” He asked, noticing Ghost wasn’t going to speak first, and gesturing around the area with a hand, eyebrow raised. The only light source was the moon, its light filtering through the skylights and illuminating the place just enough to see.
“Liked it better that way. What are you doing anyway?
MacTavish didn’t buy it, but left it alone nonetheless.
“I was looking for you- haven’t seen you in five days.”
“I was-“
“On a mission, for two yes. Where’ve you been these last few days?”
Ghost shifted uncomfortably, still not stopping, breathing hard enough that Soap had his suspicions for just how long Riley had been here. He didn’t get tired easily, often managing to run the assault course twice before he was out of breath.
“Around.” Deflection. Unfortunately, MacTavish was determined to get to the bottom of what caused Riley to disappear after returning from his mission.
“Nobody’s seen you since you got back. Have you even been to the mess?”
He scrutinised Ghost as he punched the bag closely, his gloves had been discarded at some point and his knuckles were bloody, he wished Riley would stop doing that.
“Maybe.”
“Simon, please.” He said gently, interjecting as the Lieutenant went to hit the poor punching bag once more, catching Ghost’s fists mid swing and gripping his hands tightly, stopping him from hurting himself more. Riley stared back at him, eyes wide with surprise. He looked exhausted, like he was five minutes from collapsing. MacTavish seriously wondered when the last time he’d slept was.
“Simon’s dead.” Ghost snarled, expression turning cloudy as his eyes filled with anger. Directed not at MacTavish, but at something else. Riley pulled back hard enough that he caught the captain off guard, successfully reclaiming his hands. Ghost then took a swing at him, anger and frustration taking over without really meaning to.
Soap blocked it just in time, narrowly avoiding a fist to the face. Riley’s outburst surprised him, yet it was also somehow expected given the circumstances. MacTavish didn’t know what had happened while Ghost had been away - there wasn’t much that could happen in two days - but it must have been bad enough if it had caused this mood.
“C’mon sir, is that all you’ve got?”
He knew what Riley was looking for, a fight, with a real human being who fought back. So he gave it to him, if it would help Ghost to calm down then so be it. A good old spar would probably help him as well, especially after spending the whole day cooped up in an office.
He threw a punch just as Ghost went to kick out, causing the lieutenant to backtrack his movements and play the defensive for a while. He followed it up by inching closer and aiming to get a knee up on the other man while he had the advantage. Though Riley was faster and managed to get him on the floor. MacTavish let out a low, oof, sound as his back came into contact with the ground, reminding him that they were not actually on the mats, and were therefore more susceptible to injury should this go wrong.
He hooked his leg around Ghost’s, pulling the other man onto the floor with him and quickly pinning him to the ground. Riley was tired, meaning he was slower than he would have usually been in such a situation, allowing MacTavish to get on top of him and hold him to the ground. Forcing him to breathe.
“Calm down, Si, please.”
Ghost struggled against him, flipping them over so the positions were reversed.
“Why don’t you hate me?” Riley asked, venom dripping from his voice as he pinned MacTavish to the ground, his face was so close he could feel Riley’s breath heavily on his neck. “You should hate me!”
Now, that, that, took Soap aback more than any unexpected maneuver ever could. He’d heard Ghost make self-depricating jokes before, hell it was virtually an integral part of doing their job, but he’d never quite heard the Lieutenant speak of himself in that manner before. With so much hate and despair that sounded like it came from somewhere deep inside Ghost, like he truly believed what he was saying.
Slowly, so as not to spook Riley, he lifted a hand to wrap around his wrist- the one that was currently pinning his shoulder to the floor. In their position, Soap could easily get himself out of the situation if he wanted to, but a gut feeling told him to try this first.
“Si-”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Alright- okay.”
He closed his hand around Ghost’s wrist, pressing two fingers gently onto his pressure point in the hopes it might help ground him. He watched with concern as Riley’s eyes glazed over, going unfocused for a moment as he fought with himself not to cry. With his other hand, he moved it to wrap around Ghost’s shoulders, before slowly guiding him back into a sitting position.
“I could never hate you, Ghost.” he murmured quietly, surprised at how pliable the other man was, after being so volatile not twenty seconds prior.
“Why didn’t they fight back, why did they just sit there!” Ghost cried, tears threatening to spill over at this point. His shoulders dropped into a hunched position and he raised a bloodied hand to angrily wipe at his eyes, doing nothing except smearing the eyeblack that looked like it hadn’t come off in days and mixing it with blood to create a streak across what little of his face was visible.
MacTavish didn’t know what Riley was talking about, but he could guess. Something had to have gone wrong on the mission, this sounded like it was it. Suddenly, Riley drove a fist into his thigh with enough force for it to bruise, snapping MacTavish out of his thoughts once again.
“Why don’t you hate me? I’m an awful person.”
He grabbed Ghost’s hand, refusing to let him take out whatever this was on himself. Especially given he probably hadn’t taken care of whatever injuries he’d acquired while away more than a cursory once over to check he wasn’t about to bleed to death.
“I don’t hate you” He answered firmly, getting Riley to look at him, “But I am going to stop you.”
He closed a fist around Ghost’s, simply holding it midair while he waited for the words to sink in. Instinctively, Riley tried to pull back, take his hand away and put distance between them, but MacTavish didn’t let him. Not this time.
“I shot a kid’s mother, John. All because I thought she was reaching for a detonator when she wasn’t." Riley’s voice cracked at the end of the sentence, highlighting just how awful he felt about the whole ordeal. Suddenly, the excessive physical exertion made complete sense. It was Ghost punishing himself for making a mistake. “And the family just sat there. Not even one word of protest as I shot her in front of them. I realised my mistake almost immediately, but it was already too late.”
“Hey- Hey, look at me.” He commanded softly, pleading for Riley to do as he asked. Fortunately he did, eyes dulled with the weight of the pain. “I’m not going to pretend it’s all fine, just that everyone makes mistakes.”
“You don’t get it John, it’s one I shouldn’t have made. It was a fucking rookie error.”
“No, Simon-”
“Don’t-”
“Don’t call you that, yeah I know. But it’s your name, you deserve to be called by your name.” He squeezed Riley’s shoulder gently with the hand still wrapped around his shoulders.
Ghost’s head dropped onto MacTavish’s shoulder, silent tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt as he attempted to pull himself together. After a while, Riley reached up to rip the mask off. MacTavish tried not to react, he’d seen Ghost without it before, but never when he was so vulnerable.
“So you don’t think I’m an awful person?” Riley asked, tilting his head back to watch Soap quizzically. Like he couldn’t believe the train of thought that led MacTavish to come to that conclusion.
“No, Simon, of course I don’t. You're human, just like everybody else. We’ve all made a bad shot, a wrong call where it ended badly for someone who didn’t deserve it, but what matters is that you learn from the mistakes. Remember so you don’t make them again. But something tells me you already know this.”
“It’s just- ‘s just different, when you're the one to make that mistake.”
“I know.. I know.”
They sat there for a while, lost in their own thoughts. The silence stretched, covering them like a blanket- but it wasn’t awkward silence, it was comfortable. MacTavish felt his words had at least made it through one of Ghost’s many walls of defence; he hoped eventually he could break all of them. It took several minutes, but it was Riley who broke the silence. Speaking with such sincerity that it took the captain aback.
“Thanks, sir.”
“Not sir, not here.” It didn’t feel right being the other man’s superior officer in this situation. He was here as a friend, not a captain. A quick glance over the lieutenant reminded him once more of Ghost’s injuries that needed tending to, despite what he’d try to tell him. But first, MacTavish thought, a hot drink and something to eat was probably in order.
“Let’s get you up, hm.” He said quietly, helping Riley to stand. “I think we could both do with a tea.”
Ghost- no, Simon, looked at him with a watery smile, probably the first of the week, and nodded in affirmation.
“Alright.”