#cut out windows to see from and covered them in light blue mesh (we didn't have white)

[i-havenothingelsetopost]

I always forget you've watched Doctor Who until you reblog a post about it

Gasp. It's one of my favourite shows! TARDIS is one of the few characters I've ever cosplayed as

[soaps-hoe-141]

Back Together

Part 31

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 4.6k

Synopsis: Oh shit he's remembering things

Warnings: Brief mentions of past torture and rape

The car ride felt like a lifetime. His mind was hyperfixating on the memories of being so pissed off he could barely think, the screams he remembered turning his throat sore while dogs tore apart his body, Ilya doing the same thing with his knife. He only wished the man had stopped at his body, instead he’d kept going until his mind had fallen apart as well. Every thought pounded in his head, his eyes shut tight against the light filtering in through the window while Ghost drove. It all played on repeat, drowning him in a sea of pain and misery.

“Soap?” Ghost’s voice cut through the waves and he glanced over at the man. There was a worried look there but he stayed focused on the road for the most part if only to ensure they didn't crash into the median.

“No, you don’t get to do that. Not to me, not right now. Christ Ghost,” he shook his head and looked up at the blue sky, anger pulsing through his mind. “We can talk when I get back, but you don’t do that to me, never again.” And then he’d left him standing there on the tarmac, staring after him and for what? To go spend weeks in a snow covered forest and even miss Christmas with his family for yet another year. He remembered being upset about it, leaving Ghost behind and being unable to finish their conversation, he knew he had wanted to stay then and discuss what it was Ghost was never supposed to again. But the anger and the need to flee some act he’d felt was committed against him outweighed those feelings nearly tenfold, a sense of almost betrayal at Ghost’s actions. And his family he’d known would be upset he was missing again for yet another year. He remembered thinking that there would be other Christmases, other holidays he would be able to see them, other days. There nearly hadn’t been.

The Scotsman looked down at his hands and answered quietly, “You aren’t going to ask me what happened Ghost? In there I mean, with command.”

He saw a shrug in the corner of his eye before Ghost rumbled out, “Figured you’d tell me if you wanted to. Whenever you were ready.”

How could this man have warranted anger like he’d felt, the hurt that had coursed through him nearly as thick as his blood? How could Ghost make him hurt so bad when his patience, his loyalty, and his friendship seemed so undoubted now? The man hadn’t left even for a day at the hospital, he’d been there every fucking second. Why couldn’t he just fuckin remember? He poked and prodded at the mesh that kept his memories from him, the voice in his mind, the dead man, begging him to stop but his begging fell on deaf ears as he kept trying.

His fists clenched, the tendons in his hands sending pain up his arm before he finally got his mouth around to answering Ghost, “They showed me the video, the footage of when I was taken. I remembered some things you know.” He could barely see it, just the slightest hint of his shoulders lifting beneath his shirt that gave away the tension he so obviously felt, “Apparently the video from that reporter made it out somehow, I saw you break the camera so thanks for that one I guess.” His mind was still bouncing around from thought to thought, bringing him back to the memory as he asked, “Why haven’t you ever asked me what happened in that factory? In between the videos I mean. What Ilya didn't show the world?”

Ghost swallowed, he could see the bob of his throat even through the thick fabric of his balaclava. It took a second before the big man finally answered, “You never asked me what happened when I was held captive. Didn’t want to make things worse for you I guess. Wouldn't want someone poking around where I didn't want them.”

Soap nodded quietly, opening a fist to run his finger over the scar on his palm, the memory making it ache before he said quietly, “They locked me in a room. No light, pure baltic, had me soakin wet. Left me in there til I was half dead with the cold, till I couldnae feel anything on my body. Not until they came back anyway, then they’d shoot me up with something that felt like fire inside ya. Warmed me up too quick, I wanted to tear my own skin off my body, couldnae stay still even when they were beating me for it. Made my heart race and my head pound but they needed me to be able to feel. Otherwise what was the point, you know?” Blue eyes shifted to the man who was silent, catching a wince in those eyes. “They waited too long one time. Don’t know what they were planning to do but they cut the tape on my feet so I kicked one of them in the nose. I never saw him move after that. I was almost out, almost free, had the other big bastard knocked out but they hit me over the back of the head with something.”

There was a pause, a lull in the conversation while Soap tried to reign in the fear of retelling his memories and Ghost remembered the man that he and Konig had found dead. “We saw him dead when we were clearing the factory.”

Another quiet moment prevailed, both of them taking in the silence as the truck rumbled beneath them. There was a slow nod from Soap as he continued, “Yeah that was Alexei. Ilya told me I killed him before he put the screws through my hands.” He swallowed hard, fingers reaching up to pull at the black mask he’d slid back over his face when they'd gotten into the truck, pulling at the hem to ensure his face was still covered. A hollow comfort he’d found in the black fabric. “By that point I couldn’t remember barely anything though, I was losing myself I think. When the camera turned off he stuck a metal rod to my back, burned the fuck out of me I don't even remember how many times. The worst part though? It made me hungry. How do you smell your own burning flesh and get hungry, Ghost?” He felt a sob trying to claw out of him, but forced it back down, blinking a couple times to clear his eyes before he ended up bawling in this man’s passenger seat.

The man beside him cleared his throat before answering, “They were starving you Soap. The mind will do anything to keep itself alive.” Eyes burned him until he finally looked up, catching sight of the hazel depths he wished he could live in for the rest of time. He’d be safe there, that he knew for a fact.

Finally the Scotsman managed a nod, “I guess. It was then I really started forgetting I think. I couldn’t remember anyone, their faces. The team’s faces. I didn’t have anybody to keep me going then, I just knew I was going to die alone and I didn’t want anyone to see that. I knew that I wasn’t me, if that makes sense.” He glanced up to find Ghost giving him an understanding nod and a voice in his mind whispered, ‘He knows better than anyone else ever could.’ There was a feeling that made it very clear the voice was speaking the truth, only Ghost knew what he was feeling right now. “After they stopped the recording, when the gun went off Ilya,” the name drew a shiver from him still whenever he spoke or heard it. “Ilya left me with that man you found me killing. He- He uh,” the words refused to come out. No one had been privy to this information yet, not a single soul on the hospital staff and not even command when they'd been pressing him for information.

There was another strangled sob in his throat that he disguised as a cough as the memory lit up his mind. “You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t ready Soap,” fucking Christ why did he have to be so patient. It made him weak, made him feel fragile when all he wanted was to feel like a force of nature again. To be the man he'd seen in that footage earlier, unstoppable even on the brink of death, “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, all of it. Especially alone.”

The words had his chest tightening before he sniffed quickly, wiping the tears before they spilled. He wasn’t going to cry, not now. Soap knew that he had to be able to recount his experience, and no one made him feel safer, like he could tell them without judgment, than the man beside him. Memory of anger or not, he knew Ghost cared about him enough that he wouldn’t feel ashamed the second he said it. “The man you and Konig found me with. When Ilya left he, uh, he raped me, Ghost.” There it was, and when he looked up he saw an even expression staring back at him. Hands tightened on the steering wheel turning his bare knuckles even whiter than they already were. “More than once.” His stomach twisted painfully at the memory watching the Lieutenant’s reaction and fearing the worst.

Ghost only gave him a quiet nod and answered, “I’m sorry. We should have been there sooner and I’m sorry for that.” The emotions licked at the edges of the dam, threatening to spill over. Threatening to cut straight through the thick walls he’d been steadily building.

When he turned his eyes back to the road the shame still burned. Admitting that another person had violated him, and another man at that, made his skin crawl, the memories surging around him not helping in the slightest. "It wasn't your fault. I killed that one too but you already knew that." He saw Ghost nod, glancing up when the truck turned sharply into the parking lot of an apartment complex. He still didn't remember the place, his brows furrowing as he tried to recall the information. "What's this?" He turned a questioning look towards Ghost.

The big man gestured with a nod, "Your apartment complex. You live right up there." When Soap turned his eyes up, looking at the place with even more confusion, the big man asked, "Do you not remember it?"

His head shook and Soap answered, "This place doesn't look right. Doesn't feel like home. Are you sure?" Blue eyes shot to the driver who gave him a quick nod in answer. Soap sighed and shrugged, "Maybe I'll remember when we get inside then." He opened the door and headed for the stairs, hand digging in his pocket for the set of keys he had. Ghost was right behind him as he climbed the stairs slowly, a woman passing by them and giving the both of them a weird glance before hurrying past not wanting to get mixed up in whatever they were doing. 

Soap stopped when Ghost cleared his throat, turning to watch the man glance at the door he'd passed. He stared at it for a long moment before surprise found his eyes, "Oh! Oh right. Sorry." He slid his key into the lock, trying to turn it though it stuck, not wanting to respond properly. A sheepish look found his gaze as he glanced up sideways at Ghost muttering again, "I'm sorry," pulling the keys out of the lock they fell to the ground. "Shite, I'm sorry," his voice was beginning to wobble, the emotions of the day threatening to drown him once more. He reached down picking the set of keys up and trying again, and still the door stayed stubbornly locked in front of them. "Fuck, I-I’m sorry."

"It's ok Soap, let me try," the large hand reached out for the keys which the Scotsman readily handed over. When the key still wouldn't turn even for the big man they glanced at one another. "It's alright come on," Ghost motioned for him to follow as they headed back down the stairs to the office on the first floor.

A skinny middle aged man opened the door when the Lieutenant knocked. "Um, what can I do for you?" He was looking between the both of them obviously confused as to why they were at his door right now.

Ghost lifted the keys in his hand, "Doesn't work." The man's brows furrowed and the Lieutenant clarified, "Apartment 307, key doesn't work. Last name MacTavish"

The landlord's brows rose then, seemingly surprised, "You mean the young man from the news? John MacTavish? He's dead and his lease was up. No one ever came to collect his things so we gave someone else the lease."

Hollow, that was how he felt. Not even his name could break through that shell that he'd been building to protect himself from something like this. Blue eyes fell to the ground, missing the heat of anger that flared in Ghost's eyes before the big man asked, "So then where are his things? What'd you do, throw them out?"

The man answered quickly, seeming to fear his demise at the behemoth standing in front of him, "N-No sir. We sold them to a second hand store down the road. The furniture was still good and they agreed to take the personal items as well so they just came in and cleaned out the apartment. Clothes, furniture, everything."

Ghost was staring hard now, and when Soap looked up he could see the rage just barely contained there. Rather than let it burst out on the man he tugged at the dark shirt he was wearing, getting the attention of those hazel eyes and muttering, "Let's go Ghost." It was hard to control the tears welling up now as he turned and headed back for the truck. He was so tired, he'd been through PT, an interrogation by his own commanding officers, and now this shit that was all just snowballing at this point. When he finally made it back to the black truck, leaning against it for a moment to rest his leg, everything was starting to spill over.

When the other man came around his shoulder, worried eyes looking down at him he couldn't take it anymore. He shot forward, arms wrapping around a thick torso as his body shook with quiet sobs, hiding his face from the Lieutenant, hiding his shame and his fears and his tears. They flowed freely now, unstoppable as the dam shattered inside him. Everything he'd had to deal with, every emotion he'd been subjected to since his capture, every ounce of pain that ripped through his body every time he fucking moved found its way onto the black shirt Ghost was wearing. The scent of pine enveloping him in a cocoon, protecting him from the rest of the world as arms wrapped hesitantly around his back. The big man was unsure still, worried he might just make things worse but when Soap's face pressed into the valley between his pecs and his body came flush with the other muscled frame they both sank into the touch. "Hey Johnny it's ok shh."

That nickname should have made him flinch, should have made him want to get away, but it didn't stop at the first four letters of his name. 'Johnny.' Memories surged from behind the fraying mesh that had been holding them at bay. Pouring into his mind with cruel intent. 'Johnny, we're Johnny. Only Lt calls us Johnny.' The dead man spoke in his mind and not even the well of his tears could stop him from sputtering out, "Only you call me Johnny, Lt."

Face still buried he felt arms pull him closer, a chin resting on the top of his head as the man whispered an answer, "That's right Johnny. No one else, just me." The Scotsman could only manage a nod, the sobs retaking their hold on his stuttering breaths.

------- (Ghost POV)

He was barely holding it together. Ever since he'd squatted behind that door listening to Soap's panic attack through the door he'd barely been keeping hold of his own emotions. Never, in a million years, would he have thought that this man, this Scotsman he'd once been so exasperated by, could take over his mind so completely. This man, his Scotsman, could bring him so close to the emotional edge that he was nearly tipping into the boiling volcano that were his feelings. Soap was clinging to him so tightly it was nearly squeezing the breath from his lungs and all he could think was, ‘Fuckin finally’.

Ghost couldn't believe it, the Sergeant was actually touching him. Seeking comfort in the embrace that had been glaringly absent until now. His own arms were wound tight around him, providing the safety and comfort that Soap was so desperately searching for. Nothing could have pulled him away from this moment. Relief was washing over him while he finally got to touch him again after fearing that he’d never get the opportunity to do so again. He only wished it was under better circumstances, that this wasn't merely a bandage for the open wound that he knew was in Soap's heart right now.

It wasn't until those sobs finally faded, and the salty tears that were soaking the front of his shirt were beginning to dry that the face buried in his chest finally pulled backwards. He lifted his chin, glancing down into azure hues he'd once feared that he'd never see again. "Better Johnny?"

There was a slow nod before the strained voice answered, "Much, Lt."

"Then let's go get your stuff back," they separated slowly. Soap had to take a moment to regain his balance with his stiff leg before he headed around the truck to the other side. They both climbed in, the Lieutenant reaching forward to turn the radio on quietly knowing that the Scotsman had always preferred it to the quiet of riding.

He felt eyes watching him, for once it was him who a hole was being bored into. “I remember some things Ghost,” there was a quiet glance in the direction of the other man before he gave a low grunt, questioning what it was. “I remember that I nearly died when we fell out of a plane,” he nodded along quietly letting the Scotsman recount his memories in his own time. “I remember the city where we found Suheil. You and I, we were partnered up together. I killed a kid in the stairwell,” he saw the eyes fall down to his hands, both of them remembering the child they’d seen hiding underneath the stairs. “But we saved Konig,” a bit of the light came back in his eyes, “We saved someone at least. So we do save people?” The azure eyes found him again and Ghost gave another quiet nod, feeling a bit of relief when he saw the Scotsman take a deep breath.

When the truck pulled into the parking lot the big man parked and turned to look at Soap in the passenger seat. “We do save people Johnny, and you’re not a bad man. You gave that boy a quick death, it was better than what he was going to get otherwise.” The Scotsman nodded slowly, still sorting through the memories that were coming back before he cleared his throat and nodded towards the store, “Come on, let’s go get your stuff?”

The store was small, and for the most part devoid of other patrons. The young girl behind the register didn’t even look up when they entered, not until the two men neared and her eyes blew so wide he was afraid they were about to pop out. She blanched at the both of them until Johnny asked, “Hey did you pick up some things from an apartment complex recently? Furniture, clothes, some personal things?” The poor teenager was eyeing them both now, gaze flicking back and forth between them. Completely unable to answer the two men both wearing balaclavas like they’d just come straight from a bank heist or something.

It wasn’t until an older woman came out from the back that someone actually spoke to them, “Oi! Can I help you two with something?” Both of their heads turned to find her as she walked their way, “Well? Can I?”

Ghost looked down at Soap, staying quiet now that the Scotsman seemed to be feeling a bit more like his talkative self. “Yeah, I’m trying to find my things. The apartment complex down the street sold all my stuff to ya and I was wondering if ya could help me find it.”

The woman glanced between the both of them before asking, “You mean the apartment they hired us to clean out cause that kid didn’t renew his lease?” Soap gave her a quick nod in answer, “We’ve sold just about everything already. The furniture some university kids got and the clothes went to one of those homeless shelters, doubt you’ll ever get either of those back.”

His face fell, Ghost could see the light that had been reignited beginning to dim again and it hurt him deeper than he ever thought it could. In that place that he still wasn’t sure was real, the soul that lived only when Soap was around to make it so. It was that dying light he could see in his eyes that finally had Ghost speaking up, “What about the pictures and things? The personal stuff that you took.”

It took her a moment as she tried to think and then she gave them both a shrug, “I’m not sure really. I’m sure some of it is still back there but I haven’t been able to do inventory yet this week.” Soap took a step back, eyes casting down to the floor so lost in his mind again Ghost knew he’d have done anything to stop his racing thoughts. The woman got around to it first though, “If you want you can go have a gander lads. Please, just don’t steal anything, yeah? We sell things to people who need them ok, we barely make ends meet as it is. You promise you won’t steal anything and you’re free to go have a look.”

Azure eyes lifted to her and the Scotsman gave a quick nod, “Thank ye, ma’am. I appreciate it, I really do.” The light returned and he felt at ease once more, giving the woman a quick nod as well as she led them into the back where countless things were strewn about haphazardly.

They both moved slowly into the backroom as the woman disappeared with a cart of things to fill the shelves of her small store. Ghost looked around at everything and then gestured towards the other side of the room, “I’ll take one side, you take the other?”

Soap gave him a slow nod, “Aye, sounds good to me Lt.” And so they split up, one of them going one way and the other heading off to the far side. They cleared the room not unlike they swept through buildings when they were training. It was careful and methodical, both searching for anything that might have belonged to the Sergeant before being ripped from his apartment indelicately.

He was rummaging through a stack of books when the one next to it fell over. Hazel eyes widened, “Fuck,” he muttered quietly as he began to restack them neatly like they had been arranged before he’d messed them up. When he turned to pick one up though he froze, staring down at a sketch of himself, well of his mask anyway. His hands froze, hovering over the sketch and feeling a sense of deja vu, like he’d done this before. Seen drawings he wasn’t supposed to have seen.

It took a few moments to compose himself before he reached down to pick up the sketchbook that was sitting open to the world now. He swallowed hard, flipping through the pages slowly. Every single one was of him, standing on the tarmac with his helmet on about to ship off at General Shepherd’s command. In the downed helicopter while they were fighting for their lives and those of the rest of the team stuck inside with them. When they’d found the missile container and had to report it to that traitorous American bastard. He flipped through them with greedy eyes, heart racing in his chest and feeling emotions finally after holding them at bay for so long now.

He’d almost lost this man completely, and he had lost a part of him in that factory that he doubted he’d ever get back. Ghost had refused to let himself think about it until now, until Soap had cried into his chest shaking in his arms. That had nearly broken him then and there, but this? This was breaking him, cutting through him so easily he didn’t even feel the tears on his face until they were soaking into the balaclava and falling onto the pages.

He flipped to the last page, staring down at his face, eye black still covering his eyes and scars drawn so prominently. It was before they’d gone after Graves when he’d first taken off the mask in front of Soap. He lifted a clenched fist to his mouth, shoulders hunching as he fought to control himself. Soap had nearly died, he had lost himself in that factory and he hadn’t been able to stop it, hadn’t even been able to comfort him. And now here he was lying to the poor man, hiding their relationship and their fight like an idiot.

“I felt like I was intruding on your privacy so I stopped drawing.” The Scotsman’s voice was quiet behind him. It was Ghost’s turn to feel like a mess though, voice caught in his throat and refusing to turn around to meet the eyes he knew were on him now. Soap came into view at his side then, fingers running over the drawing lightly before he turned to look up at him. “It felt wrong to draw your face without your permission, Simon.” A strangled sound ripped out of his throat then, it was the first time he’d heard his name come out of Soap’s mouth since he’d been back.

The big man turned slowly, afraid he might do something hasty if he wasn’t careful, afraid that he’d end up hurting Soap even more than he already had. He didn’t have to make the first move though, that was what Soap was good at, he always had been. Arms slipped around his torso and his reaction was immediate and instinctual. Ghost pulled the masked face against him, his tears soaking Johnny’s shirt this time.

“I’m so sorry Johnny,” he felt like he was losing himself in the scent of sandalwood and trying to drown himself in it. It’d been absent for so long he had been certain he’d never get to breathe it in again. “I missed you so much sweetheart.” His fingers curled into the muscle of his shoulder, hanging on for dear life as he tried to ground himself with the weight of the man in his arms.

Soap’s fingers rubbed into his back slowly before he whispered back, “It wasn’t your fault, Ghost.” A soothing noise came from the Scotsman before he whispered again, “I missed you too, m’eudail.”