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??? Pt. 2

[Part 1]

“Hey,” Ghost’s whispered words accompanied his soft knock as he opened the door to Soap’s room for the second time that day. 

‘He must know something is very wrong to come in without permission.’ He knew something was wrong, but Ghost didn’t. Maybe he could feel it though. Maybe he found out about Shepherd and decided to confront him about it, Soap wouldn’t answer the door, he had to have known that. He tried to keep his body from tensing up. 

“You feeling better?” 

Soap couldn’t bring himself to respond. No, he wasn’t feeling better. He wouldn’t feel better any time soon. And he didn’t feel better about Ghost checking on him either. Not after he found him puking his guts out in the latrine earlier after he was told to kill him. 

“Soap?” the bed behind his back dipped a little as Ghost settled on the edge, there was a gentle click like he tried to softly set something down on the nightstand, “Johnny? You awake?” 

He nodded. The room smelled a bit like mint now. 

A hand brushed over the side of his arm briefly before it was gone like it hadn’t been there at all. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” He felt worse, actually. His throat was dry and raw, it hurt to talk, his eyes burned a little, it took too much effort to move. It was less of a feeling like he was going to throw up and more one that he should consider throwing himself off a very tall building to spare his friends. It wouldn’t matter in the end though, he knew that. Shepherd wanted them dead, he’d find some way to kill them with or without Soap.

The question though is would it be better if it was him? He could do it fast, make sure it wasn’t painful. Maybe they’d let him explain things. Would they forgive him? Orders are orders, they all knew that, and sure, they defied them all the time but orders like these weren’t ones you were able to brush off or glance around by doing just enough for it to be considered complete without actually doing it. You couldn’t half-kill someone, it didn’t work that way. You either kill them or you don’t. He had to even if he didn’t want to, they’d know that, right?

“Good. Turn over,” Ghost’s hand pushed gently at his shoulder until he flipped onto his back. He reached over to flick on the lamp on the nightstand. There was a steaming mug sitting next to it that hadn’t been there before and a tiny packet of soup crackers next to it. Ghost took his glove off and placed the back of his hand on Soap’s forehead again. His hands were warmer this time- it was probably just from carrying the tea he’d brought but he felt more alive that time. Soap didn’t know if that made him feel better or even worse. 

He pushed himself up, dislodging Ghost’s hand, “I told you I wasn’t sick.” 

“Yeah, but sometimes you lie.” The way he said it was joking but it hit hard. He was lying to Ghost. Not about the not being sick thing- sick in the head for being able to accept killing his friends so easily, maybe, but down with a virus, no. 

He was lying. About his mission. His rank. His loyalty. He was lying about being Ghost’s friend. Because someone who had friends would be able to stomach killing one of them, let alone all of them, and yet here he is, friendless and a liar. 

Ghost’s voice dragged him back from his spiral again, “do you want to talk about it.”

“I can’t.” 

He tilted his head as he studied Soap for a long moment, “why can’t you talk about it?” He laughed like he was trying to lighten the somber mood they’d thrown themselves into, “you love talking.” 

He could feel the tears start to well up in his eyes again and he tried to speak but Ghost cut him off with a gentle hand on his face, tilting his chin upwards so that he had to meet Ghost’s eyes, “you don’t have to-” he pushed Ghost’s hand away and looked back down. The touch returned just as gentle but slightly more forceful than before, “listen to me. You don’t have to tell me anything. You don’t have to tell anyone anything if you don’t want to. But if you do you can talk to me, you know that right?” 

And that was the problem yet again. He could talk to Ghost because Ghost would listen and he did know that but you can’t just casually tell someone that you’re going to kill them. Particularly Ghost. He wasn’t the coldblooded killer the legends made him out to be, he cares about people, and sure, Soap might be one of those people- maybe not though, you never know with Ghost- but he wouldn’t hesitate to take him out if he perceived him as a threat to the team and their mission. And he was their biggest threat right now. 

He nodded and Ghost’s hand drifted away and he wanted to pull it back, to pull him back, but he couldn’t. 

“Are you at least going to be okay?” 

“I will be.” He’d have to be. If he was going to be the last of them he would have to be okay with that. If he was going to be the last of them because he was going to kill the rest of them he’d have to be okay with that. 

Ghost nodded and pushed himself off the bed, “okay. Drink that, and try to eat those, you’ll feel better.” He turned when he got to the door, “by the way, I told Price you have the flu so if he comes by act like it.” 

(Don't mind me just dropping another little part of this instead of the next Metanoia chapter just because it's been on my mind a lot recently. Anyway, I think I'm going to give up on trying to think of a title because usually I get them pretty fast but I've been sitting with this one for like a week and I still have nothing (again, if you have any ideas please hit me with them cause your bitch is desperate). But enjoy scene 2/4 that I've actually thought about, not sure how I'm going to connect this one to the next one but I'll figure it out I guess)