darth-mortem

[darth-mortem]

I brought you my new fanfiction about 09 Ghost and Soap.

Ghost is seriously injured and wants only one thing—to close his eyes and let the darkness engulf him. Captain MacTavish realizes that if he allows this to happen before help arrives, Riley will never wake up.

Injury, angst, hurt/comfort, no one die. 1752 words.

Ghost's entire body was shaking uncontrollably. It wasn't cold here, quite the opposite: the warm summer evening was slowly turning into night; the crowns of ancient trees rustled slightly in the barely perceptible breeze; wood crackled in an old but sturdy metal stove. It was hot in the small hut in the middle of the forest, but the cold was not coming from outside but from inside.

Ghost was injured and had lost a lot of blood. He wanted to close his eyes and just fall asleep, but Soap, his captain, who had returned to rescue him, causing them both to miss the exfil, would not let him. He hugged Ghost, pressed him to his chest, talked to him and asked questions, forced him to pay attention and stay conscious.

“Come on, Riley, what would you choose?” Captain MacTavish asked.

“What...?” Ghost managed to squeeze out, realizing he had missed the first half of what was said.

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

“Where would you like to go on vacation?” Soap repeated patiently, gently running his hand down Riley’s back. “To the sea, to the mountains, or maybe to a city?”

“I'd like to stay at the base.” Ghost replied in a weak voice and bowed his heavy head to the captain's chest.

“That's not an option.” He said sternly and shook the lieutenant gently so as not to cause him more pain. “After you're patched up, we're going on vacation, and that's final.”

“We?“ Ghost asked, trying to remember if Soap had mentioned this earlier.

“Yes, we.” He nodded. “Why not? Roach is injured too, and Price and I can't do all the work ourselves. We've needed a break for a long time.”

It was true. 141 had been working almost non-stop for the last two months, and perhaps if the soldiers had had even a few days' respite, things would have turned out differently today. They would have been more alert and focused and would have all come out solid. Instead, Roach hesitated and was shot in the leg, and Ghost, covering his retreat, noticed an enemy lurking behind a burning building too late. If the distance had been greater, his bulletproof vest would have saved him, but the shot was almost point-blank. The bullet entered somewhere under his ribs, and in the first few seconds, Riley felt no pain, only a weakness that suddenly fell upon him like a heavy weight, causing his fingers to unclench and drop his rifle. The next shot was supposed to be his last, and it rang out, but for some reason, instead of the lieutenant, an enemy fell, and he himself was picked up by someone's strong hands and dragged away from that cursed place. Of course, it was Soap; he had noticed that Ghost had fallen behind and returned for him, just as Riley himself would have done if they had switched places.

“Then let's go somewhere warm.” Riley said hoarsely, forcing his unresponsive lips and tongue to move. “I'm so cold...”

“I know, Riley, I know.” Soap pulled him closer and gently stroked the back of his head. “Hang in there a little longer, okay? The medevac will be here soon.”

Dragging Ghost to the exfil point, MacTavish didn't yet know how bad it was, although he had a pretty good idea. If the wound had been minor, Riley wouldn't have been hanging on his shoulder like a dead weight, barely able to move his legs, which were buckling from weakness and leaving a trail of blood behind him. Ghost himself couldn't see it, but there had to be a lot of blood. So much that the captain decided not to throw Riley over his shoulder and run to the helicopter but to lay him on the ground and start first aid immediately. In doing so, he probably saved Ghost's life. And then he did it again here, in the hut, when he pulled out the bullet, stopped the bleeding completely, and bandaged the wound so tightly that Riley had trouble breathing.

“Don't sleep!” Soap shouted sharply, shaking the lieutenant's shoulder again, and he groaned weakly and forced himself to lift his heavy eyelids. “You have to stay with me, Riley, do you copy?”

“Why?” Ghost asked, barely audibly.

He knew perfectly well that despite all his many skills and brilliant efficiency, he was the one who could be sacrificed in this team. He didn't wait for orders to go into the most dangerous areas, to cover the retreat of others, or to be the first to check rooms where the enemy might be hiding. He never hesitated to shield his comrades from bullets with his own body. Especially if Captain MacTavish was in danger.

“Why?!” Soap asked indignantly, and the lieutenant felt him tense up. “Are you serious, Riley? After I barely got you here, you ask me why?!”

“I'm sorry...” Ghost whispered and shuddered, as if waiting for a punch.

“No, no.” MacTavish immediately changed his tone. ”It's fine, Riley. Everything's fine, all right? You're just tired, and I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

His hand moved again, stroking Ghost's head and back until he slowly relaxed. It was pitiful how much he needed such simple affection, but he was truly exhausted and couldn't control himself. If anyone else had been there, he would never have allowed them to touch him any more than was necessary to help him, but Soap... Soap was different. With him, Riley always felt safe; he trusted him; he knew that the captain would never hurt him or allow anyone else to do so if he could help it.

“Riley.” MacTavish called again. ”Wake up, Riley. Can you hear me?”

Ghost didn't move or respond. His eyelids fell again, and he didn't have the strength to lift them. It felt so comfortable lying in MacTavish's arms, pressing his ear against his chest, and hearing his heart beating. For some reason, it began to beat faster, but the lieutenant couldn't understand why.

“Simon.” Soup said quietly, involuntarily squeezing him tighter in his arms. ”Please, Simon, don't leave me. I need you, you hear? You're the most precious thing I have.”

The captain's voice sounded as if from afar, and Ghost could barely make out individual words. It seemed like Soap was calling his name and asking him for something. His voice was soft, even tender; he was saying such nice things to Riley, things that would have made his scarred heart beat faster if he could have understood more than just a few words.

““Please, Simon.” Soap repeated, feeling his eyes begin to burn unbearably. ”You've held on so long, you can't leave me now. I still have so much to tell you...”

With a titanic effort of will, Riley forced himself to move, pushing away the sticky darkness that clouded his consciousness. He didn't understand the words directed at him, but he could hear the sadness in MacTavish's voice. And the last thing Ghost wanted in the world was to make the captain sad. He tried to say that he could hear him and to ask Soap to keep talking; it didn't matter what, just talk so that his voice would be an anchor keeping Riley from sinking deeper. He parted his lips, but only a quiet moan escaped his throat.

“Are you still with me, Simon?” Soap bowed his head, looking into his clouded eyes, and even through the half-wiped black combat paint, he could see him turn pale. ”Can you hear me? Do you understand me?”

Ghost thought about his questions for a moment, then nodded weakly. He really did begin to understand MacTavish's words again, as if death, which had already taken him by the hand, had briefly receded. Instead of its icy, bony fingers, Riley's hand was grasped by others, gentle and warm, and he made an effort to squeeze them weakly in response.

“Good.” Soap nodded, understanding the gesture as “yes,” and glanced at his watch. “Help is almost here, and you have to wait for it, because if you die here, in my arms, I...”

MacTavish faltered. It sounded so simple in his head, but how difficult it was to put it into words!

“I don't want to go on if you stay here.” Finally, Soap squeezed out. “Without you, it won't make any sense.”

“Why?” Riley's voice whispered in response, quiet, barely audible, almost unlike the voice of a living person.

“Because...” MacTavish closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. ”Because I love you, you fucking idiot! Isn't that obvious?!”

A faint smile touched Riley's deathly pale lips, and then the sound of helicopter blades could be heard somewhere very close by.

***

Ghost slowly opened his eyes and immediately squinted against the bright white light that blinded him. He smelled the familiar, hateful scent of antiseptics, heard the steady electronic beeping, and realized he was in a hospital. He had survived, though he probably shouldn't have. After waiting a few seconds, maybe minutes, Riley opened first one eye, then the other. The light was still unpleasant, but at least he could now make out something other than it.

Next to his bed, hunched over an uncomfortable hard chair, sat MacTavish. His eyes were closed, but he could hardly have been sleeping in that position. With one hand he rested on his knee, and with the other he clutched Ghost's still cold hand, as if afraid that if he let go, it would be forever. Riley looked at his slumped shoulders, his tousled mohawk, and memories of what had happened began to surface from the medicated fog that enveloped his consciousness.

“You're the most precious thing I have.” MacTavish had said to him there in the hut.

“I don't want to go on if you stay here.”

“I love you.”

Riley tried to move his fingers, and, miraculously, he succeeded. He squeezed Soap's hand, who immediately woke up, raised his head, and looked anxiously at his face, now covered only by a thin medical mask.

“MacTavish.” Ghost croaked, tried to clear his throat, and grimaced, feeling the pain dulled by the anesthetics. “John.”

“Yes, Simon?” The captain replied in a nervous, alarmed voice.

“I love you too.” Said the lieutenant, smiling weakly.

John smiled back at him, then leaned down and gently touched the scar on his nose bridge with his lips. Things would be different now, but that didn't scare Simon at all. Ghost's mask had protected him all these years, but now it was no longer necessary.

[darth-mortem]

i think simon's hair would get pretty scruffy when it grows out on leave...

(speedpaint under the cut!)

[darth-mortem]

In my headcanon, König and Ghost are friends, so this is a fanfiction about their first meeting.

Action, mission going wrong, illegal experiments. 3320 words.

Ghost crouched behind a concrete pillar in the semi-darkness of a long tunnel, clutching a knife in his hand. He waited for the patrol to pass through the perpendicular corridor before continuing on his way to his target.

This time, Ghost's combat mission was simple and complex at the same time. He had to infiltrate a large Cold War-era bunker, conduct reconnaissance without giving himself away, and then make his escape just as quietly as he had arrived. If he was discovered, he had permission to take any action he deemed necessary, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that. Failure of the stealth mission would almost certainly cause far more problems than the death of its executor.

The voices of the guards faded away. Ghost cautiously peeked out, made sure that all was clear, and, pressing himself against the wall, ran silently through the tunnel. The bunker had four levels, and, of course, the most interesting part was on the lowest one. Ghost had already passed the first and was moving through the second, keeping the layout of the entire facility in his mind. So far, he hadn't found anything interesting — it seemed that these levels were used only as storage rooms. He entered through an emergency exit and now had to reach the service shaft through which the communications passed. With it, he could have descended to the bottom.

Yoy can keep reading here or on the Ao3

Hearing footsteps around the next turn, Ghost cursed in his mind. The first, smaller level was guarded by only one patrol, which was easy to bypass. Here, however, there were more of them, and with the limited time allotted for the task, Ghost had no way of first observing and determining the number of enemies. His only chance of remaining undetected was a few massive hermetic doors located on both sides of the tunnel. He pulled one, then the other, but to no avail. Time was running out, so if the third door was also locked, he would have to fight his way in.

The door was unlocked and didn't even creak, which was to be expected given the age of the building. Ghost closed it as quietly as possible behind him, lowered his thermal imager, and crouched behind some boxes stacked on top of each other. He didn't bother to look inside. Since the doors were unlocked, there was probably nothing of value here, but a patrol could come by. Ghost could quietly take out a couple of enemies and hide the bodies, but that would cut into his time even more. And even if he won't find anything illegal here, the command wouldn't praise him for eliminating the guards.

At first glance, there was nothing to dig up here. The bunker had been officially purchased by several people for the purpose of conducting scientific research. All the necessary documents were available, including a contract with the private military company responsible for the facility's security. However, further investigation revealed that the buyers existed only on paper. After that, initial reconnaissance revealed suspicious activity around the bunker, and a decision was made to infiltrate it. At first, they wanted to use the entire TF141, but while developing the plan, they realized that one person would have a better chance of going unnoticed, so Ghost was sent on the reconnaissance mission.

The massive metal doors didn’t let a sound through. After waiting for the calculated time for the patrol to pass and turn the corner, Ghost cautiously peeked out, made sure all was clear, and ran on. The entrance to the service shaft was close by, and he could only hope that it wasn't welded shut or that there were no guards nearby.

The third level contrasted sharply with the previous two. Here, there was bright lighting, freshly painted walls and doors, and many more people. In addition to the guards Ghost already saw, there were also people in uniforms resembling medical or laboratory attire walking through the corridors. Access to the premises was controlled by magnetic cards, and, worst of all, surveillance cameras hung from the ceiling.

Of course, Ghost had a plan for such a turn of events. He could theoretically cover part of the distance using service shafts and tunnels located behind the walls and above the ceiling. He also had a device that jammed the video surveillance system. After checking out the situation through the ventilation grilles, Ghost would be able to choose the best place and time to leave his hiding place. He would have to leave most of his equipment behind, capture and neutralize one of these people, and disguise himself as either a lab assistant or a soldier. The second option would be preferable, but Ghost doubted that the guards had access to all areas, and without it, he would hardly be able to complete his mission. Another unpleasant surprise was the motion sensors installed in the service shaft between the third and fourth levels.

Watching people move around and looking for the best candidate to capture, Ghost realized that he wouldn't be able to leave as quietly as he had entered. Even if he manages to reach the fourth level without giving himself away and obtain the necessary information, there is almost no chance that no one will notice the substitution. So he would have to forget about stealth and escape, for example, through the same shaft. Perhaps Ghost would manage to get to the first level before security realized why the motion sensors had been triggered. And if he was very lucky, he would be able to block the elevator, and then he would only have to deal with a few guards.

Finally, Ghost chose two potential victims. One was dressed in a white coat and, judging by everything, had a higher status than the others: it was impossible to hear what he was saying, but they were clearly orders. The second one looked like the head of security. He got out of the elevator connecting the third and fourth levels, which meant that his magnetic card must have enough access to at least go down. Ghost moved through the narrow tunnels, trying to keep both of them in sight, when suddenly chaos erupted in the bunker.

A siren wailed. The lights turned red. People ran around, blocking some doors and opening others. Ghost froze, thinking he was the cause of the alarm, not noticing any sensors, but quickly realized that wasn't the case. The siren was joined by a voice coming from all the speakers, saying something about a security breach and a leak. It was difficult to understand exactly what was being said, but in any case, it didn't sound good. Quickly pulling a gas mask from his belt, Ghost put it on and looked down again.

Whatever the cause of the alarm, it was a good chance to get to the fourth level. Ghost's equipment had no identifying marks, his gloves and balaclava were plain black this time, and in the dim red light and general panic, he could easily be mistaken for a security guard. Choosing a moment when the corridor was empty, he kicked out the grate and jumped down.

No one paid any attention to Ghost. He covered part of the distance by blending in with a group of several security guards. Then they split up: some turned into a narrow corridor, while the rest continued running toward the elevator, pushing aside confused and frightened lab assistants. Ghost didn’t know the real status of these people, but just in case, he discreetly took a magnetic card from one of them, hoping that it would work when the time came. However, a few seconds later, it turned out that it did not matter, because the soldiers were already at the elevator and its doors opened.

At first, Ghost thought the walls and floor of the lift car were red from the emergency lighting, but a moment later he realized it was actually blood. Several bodies lay in the elevator, torn apart so badly that it was difficult to imagine who had done this to them and with what kind of weapon. His gaze fell on crushed skulls, throats slit down to the spine, faces reduced to a pulp, and limbs twisted unnaturally. Everyone who witnessed this scene recoiled. One of the lab assistants began to vomit, pulling off his gas mask. The soldiers were clearly in no hurry to get into the elevator, and the doors began to close. Then Ghost rushed forward and managed to slip inside at the last moment. He pressed the “4” button and stepped back, pointing his assault rifle at the door.

Whatever had caused the alarm, it had happened here. Stepping cautiously out of the elevator, Ghost immediately saw signs that a battle had taken place. Some of the lights were broken; torn wires sparkled; bullet holes covered the walls; a little further on, something was burning, filling the corridor with smoke and reducing the already poor visibility. There were not many bodies, but they were as mangled as those left in the elevator. The siren had been turned off, or the alarm system on the fourth level had malfunctioned. Ghost tried to step as quietly as possible, but glass still crunched under his feet. Several doors were open, revealing empty, cramped rooms that resembled prison cells.

Ghost slowly and carefully made his way toward the command center. His chest camera was recording everything, but despite the horror surrounding him, there was still not enough information. Moreover, it all seemed to raise more questions than it answered.

Ghost reached the turn he needed without incident, but before he could even peek out, he heard strange sounds. It was a roar, like an animal, a screech and dull thuds. Keeping his rifle at the ready, Ghost cautiously looked around the corner and froze, unable to believe his eyes.

People were crowding around one of the doors. They were dressed in bloodstained, partially torn gray robes that looked like prison uniforms, and that was basically all that remained of their human features. They were the ones making that terrifying roar. They scratched the doors with their fingers stripped to the bones, kicked them with their feet, bodies, and even their heads. Ghost saw fresh bullet wounds of varying severity. One was burned black. Another had a torn-off arm. By all appearances, these people should have been dead, or close to it, but they moved as if they felt no pain at all.

Ghost began to approach slowly, carefully choosing where to place his feet. He didn’t try to understand what was going on, focusing instead on the details. He noticed that despite the severity of these creatures' injuries—he couldn't bring himself to call them humans—none of them had serious head or heart wounds. To get to the command center, Ghost had to pass them and open the door, so he had no choice but to risk engaging them in combat.

Stopping about twenty feet away, Ghost switched his firing mode from short bursts to single shots and opened fire. Hitting the head from that distance was no problem, unlike the small number of rounds he had. The first two creatures fell like mowed grass, but the rest rushed at Ghost with unexpected speed. He managed to take down two more, but then he had to retreat and run. There was no time for aimed shots, and Ghost switched back to short bursts on the run.

The creatures were faster, but fortunately, even inaccurate shots stopped them for a few seconds. Ghost emptied his magazine, trying to increase the distance, then inserted a second one and began finishing off those that were still moving. He almost made it, but he ran out of ammunition again, and the last two creatures rushed at Ghost. There was no time to reload, so he began to fight off the creatures with the butt of his rifle, trying to hit them in the weak spots on their heads. He heard the skull of one of the attackers crack, pushed him away with all his might, and threw down his rifle, simultaneously pulling out his knife. The second one rushed at Ghost and, with all his might, ran into the long sharp blade. It pierced the eye socket and went deep into the brain, taking the creature out of action. Meanwhile, the first one recovered and also rushed forward, but fell, receiving two bullets from the pistol: one in the head and one in the heart.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost gasped in the silence that suddenly fell around him.

Braced with his foot, he pulled the knife out with a crunch, wiped the blade on the creature's robe, and shoved it back into its sheath. Then he picked up and reloaded his assault rifle. Making sure all his enemies were dead, Ghost shook his head and headed for the door he needed.

The magnetic card worked. Ghost cautiously opened the massive airlock door, staying behind it, and it was a good thing he did: shots rang out immediately from inside.

“Cease fire!” Ghost shouted. ‘I'm normal, okay? I killed those crazy bastards!”

“Show yourself!” Came the reply. ”Come out slowly and don't try anything stupid!”

Ghost lowered his rifle slightly and stepped out from behind the door. Inside the room, a man dressed in the same robes as the madmen was staring at him and aiming a pistol. He had unkempt, tangled, long blond hair, scars on his face and neck, and he was a real giant. Everyone considered Ghost to be a tall man, but this one was at least five inches taller than him. There was another man in the room wearing a torn white coat with a broken face. He was tied up with wire, lying on the floor and whimpering.

“You're not one of them.“ Said the blond man, thinking for a second, then lowering his gun.

“Yes.” Confirmed Ghost, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

“You can take off your gas mask. It's transmitted through blood, not air. The doctor can confirm that, right, Schwein?”

The man in the white coat looked tensely at the giant and said nothing. However, they both seemed normal, so Ghost decided to believe him and took off his gas mask, hanging it on his belt.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I'm König, and you?”

“Ghost.”

König's face showed surprise and disbelief. Raising his eyebrow, he tilted his head slightly to one side and asked:

“What, the same Ghost?”

“Yes.” He replied, tensing slightly. “How do you know me?”

“Many people know you.” König smiled.

Ghost closed the door and finally relaxed a little. He still needed to get to the next room, the entrance to which was behind König, but he didn't seem to be his enemy, at least not here and now.

“What are you doing here?” Ghost asked, sitting down on the edge of the table.

“I came for that Schwein.” König nodded toward the man he had previously referred to as ‘doctor.’ ”Why? Well, I have my reasons. I didn't know how to get in here, so I made them believe I was one of the unfortunate souls they bought for experiments.”

“Experiments?”  Ghost asked.

“Yes.” König nodded. “Those bastards you killed were the first batch they tested their drugs on. They were trying to create a new combat drug, but something went wrong.”

“Why are they on the loose?” Ghost continued to question.

“I let them out so they could clean up this fucking place.” König explained proudly.

“So they're smart enough to stack the bodies in the elevator and press the button?”

“No, I did that.” A bloody, slightly maniacal smile appeared on König's lips. “So what are you doing here?”

“I had to find out what they were doing here.” Ghost explained briefly. “There might be information I need in that room.”

“I don't recommend it.” König shook his head. ”I managed to drive a few more of those madmen in there and lock them up.”

“I'm willing to testify!” The doctor suddenly spoke up. “I was in charge of this project and I know everything you need to know! I'll give you all the information you need, just get me away from this sick bastard!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ghost and König shouted in unison, looked at each other, and suddenly burst out laughing, not quite normally.

It took them less than a minute to calm down. Ghost found a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his tactical vest, offered one to his new acquaintance, and they lit up. König stared curiously at Ghost's face when he lifted the edge of his balaclava above his nose, then looked away. They smoked in silence, enjoying every drag.

“How were you going to get out of here?“ Ghost asked when the cigarette was finished.

“Well... I hadn't really thought about it.” König admitted, a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head.

It seemed like a chance for Ghost to finally complete his mission, even if not as planned. He slowly pulled the balaclava over his face, stood up from the table, and walked across the room, stopping in front of König.

“I know how to get out of here without fighting our way through all those bastards.” He said. ”But I can't leave without completing the mission. Give me the doctor, and we'll leave together. He'll either be locked up for a long time or he'll find a way out, and then you can find him again and kill him, or whatever you were planning.”

König's face reflected his inner struggle, but then he sighed deeply and said he agreed.

They reached the service shaft without incident. Ghost opened it and said he would go first, followed by the doctor and König last. On the one hand, it was dangerous to have an enemy behind you and a person whose intentions were unknown. On the other hand, Ghost assumed that his new acquaintance might simply get stuck in the narrow shaft, and then he would have to abandon him, despite the fact that his crazy persistence had earned him some sympathy. However, everything turned out fine, and König, albeit with difficulty, was able to move up the ladder, rubbing his shoulders and back against the metal walls.

Ghost expected resistance on the first level, but there wasn't even the patrol he had bypassed during the infiltration. Without waiting for questions, the doctor spoke up, informing him that after the leak, the security protocol had been activated and access to the second level had been blocked.

“Can they turn it off?” Ghost asked.

“Yes.” The doctor nodded reluctantly. ”But only from the command center.”

Before leaving the bunker, Ghost decided to blow up the mine exit, blocking it. After everything his camera had captured and the doctor will testify, the clearing operation would be authorized very quickly, so if anyone was still alive down there, they would be rescued, and if not, the creatures should not be given any chance to escape. One could only imagine the damage they could do if they were set free.

Dawn was already breaking on the surface. Half a click away from the exit, König and Ghost stopped, and the doctor sat down wearily on the ground, showing no desire to run away.

“You're a good man, Ghost.” Said König and smiled. “It was nice doing business with you. And fun. Find me if you ever want to have some fun again. If you do, the beer's on me.”

“You're not taking that back.” Ghost smiled and held out his hand. “Bye, König.”

“Bye, Ghost.” He nodded.

Shaking hands, they went their separate ways. König disappeared from view behind huge boulders, and Ghost helped the doctor to his feet and dragged him to the exfil point, hoping to get there before the helicopter arrived.

[darth-mortem]

This is a small fanfic in which Ghost and Soap look at a starfall and make a wishes. Just fluff and comfort, no hurt. 1352 words.

“Did ye know that if ye make a wish when ye see a shooting star, it will come true?” Soap asked, looking at Ghost.

They were sitting on fishing chairs about thirty feet from their camp, with their backs to the tent and the fire. It was Johnny's idea to take a leave and go out during the Geminids, of course, and Simon, as usual, didn't object. They invited Price and Garrick to join them, but the captain was not impressed with the idea of a hike in the middle of December, and Gaz said that there was nothing worse than being the third in the company of two fools in love.

“Do you really believe that?” Ghost asked, glancing over at Soap.

They were wrapped in the same blanket and warming themselves with mulled wine from large thermal mugs. They both leaned back, looking up at the starry sky.

“Nae that I believe in it, but no one is stopping me from trying.” Johnny said cheerfully.

“Then you're in luck.” Simon snorted. "We've already seen about fifteen shooting stars. And by the way, they're not stars, they're meteors."

“Dinnae be a nerd.” Soap waved him off and rested his head on Ghost's shoulder. “Ye better try it too.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then a bright line crossed the sky. Johnny tensed and then exclaimed triumphantly that he had made it. Surprisingly, Simon realized that he had also made a wish, even if he hadn't intended to do anything so stupid. Although in his case, perhaps the point was that he had been thinking about something specific all this time while they were waiting for the next meteorite. And not just thinking, but... dreaming?

It was something completely new. When Simon was very young, he realized that dreams are something completely meaningless. They never come true, leaving behind only a bitter taste of disappointment. So he quickly stopped dreaming and started making plans instead. His not childlike rationality helped him survive the terrible conditions and take care not only of himself but also of his little brother. Thanks to it, he soberly assessed his chances, so he joined the army instead of trying to go to university. He became a successful soldier and then a commander. Without giving in to emotions, he survived in the worst situations and almost always brought his men back alive. His rationality failed in Roba's captivity, but in the end, it was its return that helped him escape. Perhaps if he hadn't relaxed and believed it was over, his family would still be alive. Even after turning into Ghost, he couldn't forgive himself for not taking revenge right away, for letting Roba find him and destroy everything he loved. For a long time, he forbade himself to love someone again, but then Johnny appeared in his life, and the mask of the cold, emotionless Ghost began to crack. He tried to resist, but the light emitted by the new member of the 141 was stronger.

“What did ye wish for?” Soap asked and fidgeted, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“Isn't there a rule that a wish won't come true if you tell it?” Ghost raised an eyebrow.

“Ye dinnae believe in any of this anyway!” Johnny lit up two cigarettes, squinting his eyes, accustomed to the darkness, and handed one to Simon. “Besides, I think it's better to voice yer wishes so they can be heard.”

“Heard by whom?” Ghost asked.

“By God, by the universe, I dinnae know!” Soap said, a little irritated. “Well, are ye going to tell me?”

“You go first.” Simon smiled slightly.

Johnny began to tell with excitement how he had been to an amusement park in the United States as a child and was not allowed on the biggest roller coaster because he was too young. Since then, he has dreamed of going there again and riding it, but it hasn't happened yet. Simon even looked at him, not believing that a grown man could have such a ridiculous desire, but Johnny was clearly being completely serious.

“Don't you get enough adrenaline at work?” Ghost asked.

“This is completely different!” Soap said confidently. “Someday I'll drag ye to an amusement park, and ye'll realize that for yerself!”

“Over my dead body!” Ghost replied, imagining the maddening crowds of children and adults and the noise that reigns in such places.

Johnny pouted, but after a minute he forgot about his resentment, taking a sip of mulled wine and feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his body. Simon, meanwhile, got up and went back to their camp to add wood to the fire and check if the tent heater was working. The ability not to save energy and warm up their sleeping quarters in advance was a luxury they hadn't had while working, so now the two soldiers were enjoying it with sincere pleasure.

“Well?” Soap asked as Ghost returned to his seat and draped some of the blanket over his shoulders. “What's yer wish?”

“I guess it's not really a wish.” He spoke thoughtfully, wondering how best to articulate what was on his mind. "I was just thinking that I would like to live the rest of my life with you. And that it would be a long one."

Before Soap came along, Ghost was sure he would not live to see old age, and that was fine with him. Dying on the battlefield was a logical end for someone who had given his entire life to the army. But now he didn't want that for himself, and especially not for Johnny. With him, retirement and the inevitable old age would not be as empty and lonely as Ghost had always imagined. Together they will certainly be able to find their place in civilian life and be happy until the very end.

“Oh, Simon!” Johnny said tearfully and pressed his shoulder against him. “Now I'm ashamed of myself for wishing such a stupid thing!”

Ghost laughed softly, hugged him, and stroked his cheek, which was flushed with cold, regretting that he was wearing his skeleton gloves in this moment.

“Where would ye like to live after retirement?” Soap asked, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

“In some small town that's hard to get to.” Simon answered thoughtfully. “Maybe somewhere in Alaska.”

“Ye like the cold.” Johnny smiled. "I dinnae mind it, though. Alaska has beautiful nature and lots of places to hunt and fish. We'll buy a house and get dogs and cats."

“And what will we do?” This time Simon asked the question. “Will we have any jobs?”

“Mibbie we'll get a job at the police station.” Johnny said thoughtfully. "There would probably be one in the whole town, or even several. We could also start a club at the school and teach kids how to navigate and survive in the wilderness."

“That sounds good.” Simon, who got along well with Soap's many nephews and had stopped claiming that the kids were afraid of him, agreed. "In small towns, crime is usually low, so we'll have a lot of free time. You're going to paint, and then we're going to have an exhibition of your paintings."

“And ye?” Soap asked.

“I might learn to make knives.” Ghost replied. “I think I'd be pretty good at it.”

“Ye know, there's something we can do right now.” Johnny squinted his eyes slyly.

“Like what?” Simon asked.

“Get married.” Soap answered and took his hand. “Why wait for retirement when we can do it now, open a joint family account, and start saving money for our future home?”

“Johnny…” Ghost was confused. “Are you proposing to me?”

“Aye.” He replied firmly. “I dinnae have a ring, but...”

“I agree.” Simon interrupted him and smiled. “Let's get married.”

He took Johnny's chin and kissed him gently, and then they stood up and went to their warm and cozy tent without speaking. The starfall continued, and all the wishes had been voiced, so now Soap and even Ghost had no doubt that everything they had talked about would come true.

[darth-mortem]

A small fanfic where Soap is sad, and Ghost is comforting him.

Hurt/comfort, 1051 words

Soap slipped quietly into the small kitchen of the safehouse and flinched in surprise when he saw Ghost at the table. He was sitting with his head propped up on his fist, staring mindlessly into his cup of tea, but looked up when he heard footsteps.

“Can't sleep?” He asked quietly.

“No.” Soap replied, sighed, and sat down across from him. “It's fucking cold in here.”

In fact, that was not the reason for his insomnia. Every time he closed his eyes, Johnny saw the hell their mission had turned into. He was a young but experienced soldier, and he had faced death many times before, but what happened this time was beyond good and evil.

Ghost stood up silently and poured another cup of tea. He understood everything, of course, but he didn't know what to say to comfort Johnny. In fact, he felt bad, just like all the members of 141, but it was easier for him. Ghost had seen so much evil in his life that he simply couldn’t react to it the way others did. It was his strength, but it was also his weakness.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, drinking tea and listening to the sounds of the snowstorm raging outside the house. If it weren't for it, 141 would have already been at the base, and it would probably be easier to come to their senses there. But until the weather improved, the helicopter wouldn’t arrive, and they had to accept it.

“Simon.” Soap broke the silence. "Why did this happen? Where did we go wrong?"

Ghost sighed and stuck a cigarette in his mouth. The problem was that, technically, 141 didn't make any mistakes. They were supposed to eliminate the terrorists. Intelligence didn’t inform them that those bastards had civilian hostages. 141 acted according to the approved plan, and none of them knew that while they were preparing the elimination, the terrorists were torturing and killing their prisoners. Those unfortunate people were not a threat and could have become a lever in the negotiations if it ever came to it. There was no point in killing them, so the terrorists did all these horrible things solely for their own amusement. When the elimination operation began, there was no one left to save.

Ghost had already seen and even experienced much of what the terrorists did to those innocent people. But he was a trained soldier, and the hostages were civilians, including women and even children. That was probably the worst thing: what those sick bastards did to the children.

“Intelligence fucked up, Johnny.” Ghost replied firmly, pushing back the memories. "If we had known about the civilians, we would have acted differently. You realize that, don't you?"

“Aye.” Soap replied quietly, lowering his head. "But it doesn't make me feel any better. It shouldn't have happened! It's not fair!"

He jumped to his feet, his voice trembling. Ghost stubbed out his cigarette butt, walked around the table, and hugged Johnny as gently as he could, pressing him to his chest. He didn’t say that life is almost always unfair. He didn't share his suspicions that the intelligence service might well have known about the hostages but had deliberately withheld information on the orders of some bloody general. Ghost just hugged Soap, who was sobbing softly with his face buried in his shoulder; he stroked his head, letting his tangled mohawk run through his fingers. Then he kissed the tear-stained cheeks and chapped lips of Johnny, who clung to him as tightly as if their lives depended on it. Ghost knew that nightmares were not easy to get rid of and would surely return, but at least now he was able to divert Soap's attention to something much more pleasant.

“Why is this bloody shack so small?” Johnny exhaled, pulling away from Simon's lips for a second. “I need you so much right now, Si!”

“We'll be out of here soon.” Ghost muttered back. “We'll go back to the base, grab few liberties, and go to your apartment, which isn't much bigger than this bloody shack, by the way.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Finally, a smile appeared on Soap's lips. “At least it'll be just the two of us there!”

They talked about it some more, or rather, Johnny did most of the talking, and Simon only occasionally put in a few words. So it was he who heard the footsteps outside the door and quickly pushed Soap away, then turned away altogether, taking another cigarette. Price and Gaz knew about their relationship, but now wasn’t the best time to show it off.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” The captain asked, frowning as he entered the kitchen.

“Good morning to you, too.” Soap snorted. “I was cold and came in for some hot tea, and Ghost...”

Johnny trailed off, realizing that Simon was already sitting there when he arrived.

“The wind woke me up.” Ghost explained and glanced toward the frost-painted window. “By the way, it looks like it's starting to calm down, no?”

“I hope so.” Price sighed.

Looking at Soap carefully, he realized what he hadn't said. It seemed that both sergeants were very much depressed by the horrific sight they had witnessed. Price made a mental note to refer them for a psychological evaluation and possibly therapy when they got back to base and had some time to rest. As for Simon... well, the lieutenant was probably telling the truth. If he was having nightmares, they were about his own past, and Price knew that even better than Soap.

“Okay, lads, go wake Gaz up, take all the blankets, and get some sleep.” The captain ordered, waving his hand.

A few minutes later, a sleepy and unhappy Kyle went to the kitchen, and Johnny settled into Simon's cozy embrace. The warmth of his strong body and the four blankets they were lying under finally drove away the cold, and Soap felt himself starting to fall asleep.

“I keep dreaming about that shit.” He finally admitted.

“I've got you now, Johnny.” Ghost responded. “And I'm scarier than any nightmare.”

“Will you protect me?” Soap asked, sounding sleepy.

“I always protect you.” Simon said seriously, and that was the last thing Johnny heard before he finally fell asleep.

[darth-mortem]

Yes😔

[darth-mortem]

Gaz just wanted to get to know Ghost better

[darth-mortem]

Here is my new Ghoap fanfic, where Soap tries to make some important confession to Ghost.

Action, injures, caretaking, confessions, nobody dies. 2498 words.

Run, run, run. The thought beat in Ghost's head in time with his heart, and yet he knew he wouldn't make it. Not with Johnny wounded, leaning heavily on his shoulder, and moving only thanks to stimulants. Not when they had to fight for every step, and the ammunition was running out. Not after the explosion split 141, cutting off Ghost and Soap from the shortcut to the exfil point.

Johnny caught his foot on some debris, and it almost caused them both to fall. Bullets whizzed by the lieutenant's ear, and he growled from the excessive effort, but he managed to drag Soap to a piece of concrete wall that could serve as temporary shelter.

Gently lowering Johnny to the ground, Ghost peered out and killed the enemies who had almost caught up with them with three well-aimed shots. The return fire forced him to duck, and he glanced briefly at Soap. The latter was breathing heavily, a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his lips, and it was clear that the stimulants would not last long. Ghost didn't even know how seriously Johnny was injured. There was no time to examine him, so the lieutenant had to take his sergeant's word that he had stopped the bleeding before they met. Both were covered in soot, dirt, and concrete chips, so it was impossible to see the wound visually.

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

“Ready, Johnny?” Ghost peeked out again to fire a few shots. “Then let's go!”

Throwing Soap's arm over his shoulder, he jerked him up, and they, ducking, ran to the next shelter.

Johnny's radio was broken, smashed by a bullet, but Ghost could hear Price's voice in his earpiece. Concentrating on running and avoiding getting caught in the crossfire, the lieutenant didn't even try to make sense of the captain's words over the noise of the interference. Only when Ghost found himself in another relatively safe place, he shook his head, and finally Price's voice, which had sounded as if from afar, came closer.

"Bravo 0-7, do you copy? Do you copy, Ghost? What's your status? I repeat, what is your status?"

“I'm solid.” The lieutenant exhaled hoarsely. "Soap is down. We're trying to get out of the kill zone, but we're not going to make it to the exfil point."

Ghost spent a few seconds of silence on the earpiece to kill two more enemies, then dropped into cover and quickly replaced the magazine of his assault rifle. The situation was complicated by the fact that after the battle group exfil, the remnants of the object were to be destroyed by a bomber that was already in the sky waiting for clearance. Ghost had only a rough idea of the strike zone, but he realized that he and Soap had not yet left it.

“Ghost, you need to get out of there as soon as possible.” Price spoke again. “You have no more than fifteen minutes, do you copy?”

“Aye.” The lieutenant gritted his teeth, fired a few shots, and then picked up and dragged Soap with him again.

Johnny tried hard, but the stimulant was wearing off, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to move. He was almost hanging on Ghost's shoulder, using all his remaining strength to move his legs. He could no longer see anything in front of him, did not analyze the situation, only ran, fell into cover, and ran again when the lieutenant lifted him to his feet.

“Simon.” Johnny exhaled heavily when they were in a more or less safe place again. “I can't take it anymore.”

“Shut up.” Gust ordered gruffly.

He peered out, fired a few shots, and dropped the rifle. He was out of ammunition for it, but he had a pistol and several throwing knives.

“Si...” Soap wheezed, trying to focus his eyes.

“Hold on, Johnny.” The lieutenant's voice, always so calm, sounded like a plea. “I'm not leaving you, so hold on, or we're both going to die here.”

They ran again, or rather walked, because Soap could no longer run. There were no more than three minutes left before the bomber approached, but Ghost could already see a place ahead where they could hide. It was probably still within the strike zone, but a deep enough gorge offered a chance of survival.

“Just a little further.” Ghost muttered to either Soap or himself.

He had one grenade left, and he let the enemies get closer, threw it, then lifted Johnny on his shoulders and ran. There was an explosion behind him, followed by screams of pain, fragmented commands, and more gunfire. Bullets whistled and hit the ground, kicking up clouds of concrete chips. Ghost zigzagged, trying not to stumble, and then jumped, covering the last few steps to the gorge. He lost his footing, and they both rolled down the steep slope. The lieutenant was dizzy, but he heard the sound of bomber engines, pulled Johnny to him, and covered him with his body, pressing him into the ground.

“We're too close!” Soap groaned hopelessly, his fingers clutching at the straps of Ghost's vest.

“It'll be okay.” He replied, looking into his sergeant's pain-stricken blue eyes. “We're not going to die like this.”

Johnny didn't believe it, but he smiled weakly anyway. If they did die, let the last thing Simon saw be his gentle and warm smile. Soap loved this man so much and wanted to tell him so much, but he never dared. Maybe he was waiting for the perfect moment, or maybe he was just afraid that his feelings would be unrequited, and by telling him about them, he would destroy their friendship. However, is there any reason to be afraid now, when they are both probably living their last moments?

“Simon!” Said Soap, trying to shout over the bomber's engines, which were roaring unbearably loud. "There's something important I need to tell you. I've been wanting to for a long time."

“You can tell me later.” Ghost replied just as loudly, and then they both heard the whistle of bombs being dropped.

The lieutenant clamped his hands over Johnny's ears, both of them squeezed together, trying to blend into the ground, and then the fierce force of the explosions stunned them both, and debris fell from the sky. Several of them fell nearby, and then Ghost felt blows to his legs, back, and finally his head. The helmet protected the lieutenant's skull, but the blow was so hard that he passed out, slamming his forehead into the ground next to Johnny's. He felt the lieutenant's stout body heave and expected the next piece of shrapnel to hit his head, but it did not.

Silence reigned, broken only by the disgusting squeaking in his ears. Soap groaned faintly, not hearing his own voice, and tried to gently move Ghost off of him, but he didn't have the strength. The wound was throbbing with pain, the hastily applied bandage was soaked with blood, and Johnny's whole body was shackled with deadly weakness. Only now did he realize how tired he was. He wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep, but he understood that if he gave in, he would never wake up, so he continued to fight. The squealing in his ears began to subside, and Soap tried to shake Ghost's shoulder.

“Simon!” He called, and this time he heard his own voice. "Wake up, Lt. Please come back to me!"

Johnny spoke quietly because, firstly, he was exhausted, and secondly, he did not want to give away their location in case any of the enemy also survived. He repeated the lieutenant's name over and over again until he finally moved. Raising his heavy head, Ghost looked at the sergeant and then slowly slid off him, stretching out on the ground next to him.

“You were right.” Johnny said tiredly, turning his head to Simon. “We're not dead.”

“It's not over yet.” He wheezed in response and slowly sat down, feeling dizzy and pain in his leg where the debris had hit him. “Let's take a look at your wound.”

His fingers budged hard, so Ghost pulled out a knife and cut the straps on Soap's vest. Pulling it off, he saw a blood-soaked bandage underneath the torn clothing. It was bad, but it gave him strength. Fighting off nausea and dizziness, he took the first aid kit off his tactical vest, pulled off his gloves, and began to give Johnny first aid with movements he had learned to the point of automaticity. The wound looked quite dangerous, and Ghost frowned and tore open a package of bandages.

“This is going to hurt.” He warned.

Soap clutched at the collar of his jacket with his teeth and sobbed softly as he felt Ghost begin to stuff a bandage into the wound. He did it quickly but very carefully and meticulously, and it soon became clear that the bleeding had eased. Tears were streaming down Johnny's cheeks, and it took him a while to hear Simon asking him to breathe as he sealed the tamponade wound with a medical patch. The bullet remained somewhere inside his body, but it was impossible to get it out in these conditions, so he could only hope they would get out of here quickly.

“Don’t close your eyes, Johnny.” Ghost said unusually softly, pulling gloves over his bloody hands. “Stay with me.”

“Aye, sir.” Soap replied, trying to focus his eyes on the lieutenant.

“You wanted to tell me something.” He recalled the sergeant's last words before the bomber did its work.

Johnny's heart beat faster. He was afraid again and thought that now was absolutely not the right time, but he couldn't think of a way out. Ghost looked at him, tilting his head slightly to the side. Soap, having summoned up the courage, opened his mouth to say what was in his heart when suddenly shots were heard and bullets struck again next to them.

Ghost reacted instantly. Overcoming his own weakness, he jumped up, turned around, and fired his pistol at the enemy, who was looming at the edge of the gorge. The bullet struck him between the eyes, but he could hear more voices from the other side, rapidly approaching. Ghost almost groaned in despair: their position was extremely disadvantageous, and there was nowhere to run. And Soap is unlikely to make it through another race.

“Talk fast, Johnny.” The lieutenant gritted out, clutching his gun.

“I...” Soap began, but then they both heard the sound of an approaching helicopter.

The enemies up there started to scramble and started shooting, but not at the two wounded soldiers. Instantly, a powerful, large-caliber machine gun began to answer them, and Price's voice came through the earpiece of Ghost's radio.

“Bravo 0-7, what's your status?”

“We're alive.” The lieutenant exhaled a sigh of relief as he looked up at the sky, where a helicopter flashed over the gorge. “You just flew right over us.”

Soon 141 reunited aboard the helicopter. Gaz immediately began to make sure that Soap remained conscious; Price contacted the base, informing them that a resuscitation team should be waiting for them and that the hospital should have an operating room ready. Ghost sat back and made little effort to fight the dizziness that returned as soon as the adrenaline level in his blood dropped. Price tried to talk to him and asked questions, but the lieutenant could not understand the words, and at some point darkness enveloped him and he passed out.

Waking up was difficult. Consciousness returned slowly, bringing with it memories and sensations. Ghost remembered being taken away; he was warm; the smell of the hospital hit his nose, and the silence was broken only by the steady beeping of medical monitors. It took him several minutes to open his eyes. His vision was a little blurry, and Ghost slowly looked around: to his right was another bunk with Johnny lying on it; to his left, Price was sitting in a chair. Noticing the movement, he immediately stood up and leaned over the lieutenant.

“You two are lucky sons of bitches.” The captain said and smiled. "You have a concussion and a broken leg. Soap got the bullet out of his liver and a blood transfusion. I think he'll wake up soon, too."

Ghost wanted to say that this was good, but he had no strength, so he closed his eyes again, falling into sleep.

His next awakening was no better. Price wasn't in the room, but Johnny was already awake and, seeing that Simon was awake too, smiled weakly.

“Hey, Lt.” He said.

“Hey, Johnny.” Ghost responded and barely recognized his voice; it was so quiet and weak. “You look like shit.”

“I feel the same way.” Soap snorted. “You don't look any better, though.”

Ghost lifted his hand with difficulty and ran his fingers over his face. He realized that someone, possibly Price, had put a balaclava on him and felt some relief.

“I'm going to tell you what I wanted.” Soap continued to speak. “And if anyone interrupts me again, I'm going to strangle them with an IV tube.”

Johnny could tell by the way Ghost's eyes squinted that he was smiling. After everything he had been through, or perhaps because of the medication, Soap no longer felt fearful or insecure. Looking at Simon, he smiled and said:

"I love you. Not as a friend."

Ghost was not at all surprised to hear this; on the contrary, he felt a pleasant warm wave of joy spread through his body. He had been feeling the same way for some time, but unlike Johnny, he hadn't been willing to talk about it because he didn't think he was worthy of love and happiness. He was sure that any relationship with him would only ruin the life of the one who dared to have it, but he still allowed himself to get closer to Johnny. And now, looking into his blue eyes, Ghost thought that maybe it was time for him to leave the past in the past and stop running. To accept the fact that he was not to blame for the way his loved ones' lives had turned out; to believe that it didn't have to happen again; and, finally, to allow himself to be happy.

“I love you too, Johnny.” Simon said in a hoarse voice.

Soap's eyes shone with joy. Of course, this was only the first step, and they still had a lot to discuss and a lot to do, but it could wait. Johnny really wanted to hug Simon, but it was impossible now, so he just reached out to him through the narrow passage between the bunks. Ghost did the same, and their fingers touched.

“I think we're both going to get leave after this.” Soap said. “Will you come with me?”

Ghost didn't know where Johnny was taking him, but he didn't care; he smiled and answered:

“Aye.”

[darth-mortem]

[darth-mortem]

Ghost wants Johnny to help him with mission reports, but Johnny doesn't want to 🤭

[darth-mortem]

Hey, look at my new T-shirt 😌

[darth-mortem]

Ready for battle!

[darth-mortem]

Here is a little fanic inspired by this great art and arter's AU.

Fluff and happines, 1374 words. Ronan and Fionnlagh are names of Ghoap children in arter's AU.

Simon and Johnny were flipping through the pages of a new photo album in a beautiful green leather cover with gilt letters. Little Ronan was sleeping sweetly in Simon's arms, pressing his face against his chest, and Fionnlagh was sitting on Johnny's lap, reaching out with his hands to the pages. Now he saw only cheerful, colorful pictures, but the time would come when he and his brother would be able to understand their meaning, and then their parents would tell the boys the amazing story of their lives.

The photos on the first page showed hot, sunny Mexico. Soap smiles cheerfully as he stands next to an SUV at Alejandro's base; Ghost is cleaning his rifle, clearly not noticing that he is being photographed. A tired Johnny with a bandaged shoulder and a gloomy Simon trying to turn away from the camera. The entire 141, Rodolfo and Los Vaqueros in identical balaclavas with skulls—the Ghosts team. A torn page from Soap's diary, where he tried to draw Simon's face the first time he saw it. It was only a few seconds, but he remembered that moment forever.

The next few pages were also full of photos from the missions. Briefings, preparing weapons and equipment, shots in the landing bay; Soap jumping out of a plane in a silly pose; Ghost lying in a sniper position; Soap preparing explosives; the 141 leading out the freed hostages; Ghost again, down on one knee petting a K9 unit... Among all this were several drawings of Johnny: plans for entering and exiting buildings; a portrait of Price with a cigar; Gaz sleeping in an unnatural position; and Ghost with a mask lifted up the bridge of his nose and a cup of tea in his hand.

The next page was devoted to more peaceful events in the lives of the two commandos: their first vacation together and their first real date. There were tickets to the museum of weapons history and to the zoo (it was then that Johnny learned that Simon loved animals); photos of both of them in unusual civilian clothes; several selfies, in one of which Ghost even lowered on his chin his constant skull-printed buff. Then there was a cardboard beer glass holder from the pub where they spent the evening of their first date (Johnny wanted to steal the glass itself, but Simon managed to talk him out of it); a photo of Ghost preparing to throw a dart and thus beat his opponents in darts; Soap raising a glass of scotch to celebrate his victory; a selfie in the kitchen of Johnny's small apartment in Glasgow. Then there were a few photos from the next morning. Simon is sleeping on his stomach without a mask, covered by a light blanket up to his waist; his head is turned away from the camera, and his scarred, muscular body is illuminated by the gentle rays of the sun. Johnny, suffering from a hangover, is sitting in the kitchen with his arms around his head; a cup of coffee is smoking in front of him. A selfie on the balcony overlooking the city, where they are both smiling, clutching cigarettes in their teeth.

The next few pages were once again occupied with missions and life on the military base: Ghost is still unhappy to be photographed but no longer turns away. At this stage, the album contains more photos of both Simon and Johnny together and of the whole TF141.

Then there is another vacation and another important event in the lives of the main characters of this story: a visit to the MacTavish family home. Johnny's mother fell in love with Simon immediately, but not his father. They spent two weeks there, and the photographs showed how MacTavish Sr.'s attitude toward his son's chosen one was changing. In the first one, he keeps his distance and furrows his thick eyebrows, and in the last one, he hugs Simon's shoulders in a joint photo of the whole family.

Then there were more missions, one of which marked another turning point in Simon and Johnny's relationship. Both of them remembered well the hell they had fallen into and from which they had barely escaped alive and even almost unharmed. After almost a week of hiding in a tiny hut somewhere in the middle of the icy winter forest, they were finally picked up by a helicopter, and there, in the landing compartment, Simon proposed to Johnny. In the photo taken by Gaz, they were sitting next to each other: Ghost holds out the ring in his palm, and Soap smiles incredulously, tears of happiness shining in his eyes. The next photo shows them kissing.

If Simon and Johnny had been ordinary people, the next pages of their album would have contained wedding photos, but there was never anything ordinary about their lives. It was then that the unit picked up Makarov's trail, which led them to the damn tunnel where Soap almost died after being shot in his head. That's why the next page contained photos from the hospital: Ghost, Price, and Gaz visiting Soap while he was in a coma; Johnny, very weak and exhausted after waking up, trying to eat something that looked like jelly; Simon walking with Johnny in a wheelchair in the park near the hospital; Soap relearning to walk again in physical therapy...

Johnny made a near full recovery, which all his doctors called a miracle, and returned to the military, but not for long. Immediately after the 141 finally caught up with and eliminated Makarov, which was the subject of another page in the album, Soap and Ghost resigned from the service and retired together. The album contained photos from the farewell party at the base: lots of scotch, talk about past adventures, hugs, and even tears. TF141 ceased to exist, but not the strong friendship that bound all four of its members.

The next page showed Simon and Johnny moving into their new home together with the help of Price and Gaz. The photos showed them painting the walls, carrying boxes and furniture, and celebrating a housewarming party. Then, finally, there was the wedding: a small but very happy one. Simon is wearing a dress uniform with all the orders and medals, which he would never have pinned on his jacket if it hadn't been for the long persuasion of his fiancé and Price. Johnny, with his mohawk now grown out and scars on his temples, looks incredibly handsome in a traditional Scottish outfit with a kilt. A modest ceremony in the courtyard of the MacTavish family home; the first kiss of the just-married Simon and Johnny Riley-MacTavish; a festive dinner and dancing; joyful faces of friends and family members; and, finally, a huge cake that exploded, smearing cream all over the place.

The next page began with a copy of a document approving the adoption of children by two former special forces officers. Then there were photos again: Simon and Johnny arranging children's rooms, painting walls, arranging furniture and toys, and buying clothes and other things necessary for the kids. The first pictures of the boys themselves were taken in the hospital through the glass, where newborns Ronan and Fionnlagh lay in transparent boxes among other babies. Then there were happy shots of their parents taking them home; introducing them to Johnny's family and to Price and Gaz; episodes of difficulties and failures in their new roles as parents, which Simon and Johnny had; as well as episodes of success and happiness. The babies in funny overalls laugh with their toothless mouths; sleep on Simon's chest; drink from bottles; play with Johnny's fingers... Here is Ronan with a funny mohawk like Dad Johnny has; here is Fionnlagh showing off his first tooth; Simon with a double stroller walking in the park; the babies taking their first steps; Johnny smiling happily when he heard their children's first words; all four of them relaxing in a cozy garden in the backyard of their house... The next pages of the album were empty, but soon they will be filled with new photos, new memories of their happy and peaceful life, where only the best awaits them in the future.

[darth-mortem]

Part two of my cosplay photos. You can see part one here.

[darth-mortem]

Ghost and Soap don't work today🥰 And how were you spending your Monday?

[darth-mortem]

I made some new cosplay photos 😌

[darth-mortem]

Look at this cute guys! 🥹🥹🥹