Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Mirage? You listening?"

"What? Yeah, I am."

"Right. So, they're estimating we'll be arriving aroun' 0200, hopefully we'll be back before mornin, y'know?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah," Soap slowed his words, staring at your bowed head, your gaze lingering down along your plate in front of you. "An' if you were listenin' to me, you'd agree that I'm a better shot than you."

"In your dreams." You looked back at him while stabbing your fork into your food, smirking just a bit at his cheeky grin.

“Christ, eat woman. Or I’ll force feed ya myself.” He muttered while bringing his spoon down towards his tray, watching you roll your eyes before shoving food in your mouth.

The two of you found each other during dinner time, taking up residence at one of the vacant tables by the entrance. Usually, Gaz would join the both of you, but his current mission with Price had him in Amsterdam, but you weren't saying you enjoyed Soap's company any less if he wasn't here regardless.

With the raging lines entering the mess hall dimming down significantly, you could eat more comfortably with your mask off, sitting in a way where anyone would at least see the normal side of your face upon first glance without doing unnecessary double takes.

Everyone stares, it's the human's natural curiosity. Even you were victim to it, but it didn't make you feel any better regardless of how many times you've tried to ignore it.

"So," You brought your knuckle over your lips. "You want me to be completely oblivious if he asks me?"

"I'm just sayin' if he asks, pretend you don't know nothing. That's all."

Soap watched your head nod, smiling a bit before losing focus once more. You looked like you had an awful lot on your mind lately, and he wasn't too sure why. Maybe it was just for the mission the two of you were assigned to tonight, wondering if you were planning on getting in a few hours of sleep before the trip.

The silence made him a little weary, clicking his tongue purposefully loud to break you from your thoughts.

"Christ, for a woman like you, I'd imagine you'd pay better attention to your superiors."

"A woman like me?" You huffed as your head rose again, reaching your left hand over for your drink. "Elaborate, please. I'm dying to know what you mean by that."

"Oh, y'know, a woman like you." He gestured at you with his spoon, swallowing his food before continuing. "Yer strong, smart, got bigger bollocks than any other man I've met thus far."

"Easy there, Ghost might get jealous." You snickered a little, watching him smirk. "Eh, Simon ain't around to glare at me for it, think I'm in the clear."

You giggled again, setting your cup down beside you. "You're sweet John, but you're just being nice."

"I'm bein' serious, learn to take a damn compliment every once in a while." His brow firmed, making your gaze grow a bit firmer towards the Scotsman.

"What you've been through to get here now, an' everything that's happened in between, I need to admit, I admire you, lass. You're still standin' an' still smilin', that takes strong guts."

You reached for your drink again, lowering your gaze for a moment down into the liquid in your cup. Your mind raced with various thoughts, not really expecting a talk to from Soap like this of all times like now, of all places.

"Hey," John spoke up to gain back your attention, watching your eyes nervously glance up back at him. "Hope I didn't make you nervous, it's just... I don't know, you've changed is all. Just wanted to remind you of the strong woman I see now. The one who looks like she'll kick me under the table if I say another word."

Change? You almost snorted into your cup, catching the thin streams of liquid that rolled down the sides of your lips.

"Jesus, John." Reaching for the napkin he held out to you with a loud chuckle, you cleaned your mouth before composing yourself, showing him a slight smile after that minorly embarrassing outburst.

After composing yourself, your eyes trailed down towards his casually rested forearm on the table. You reached your hand out to rest against the back of his large palm.

As sweet as he was trying to be, a small part of you deep in your mind wanted to refuse his words. Compliments like these were flattering, sure, but you were just you. Despite what's happened, you were just as much of a soldier as anyone else.

Still, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread throughout your chest from his words.

"You don't have to say those things, John. I appreciate it though. Thanks."

"Aye." John smiled a little more, glancing down at your hand, his gaze following as you removed it.

"Is he starin' at me?" He suddenly asked in a low mutter.

"Who?"

"Ghost." He states, making you raise a brow. Ghost?

Your eyes flicked upwards towards the exit, spotting none other than the tall, ever so familiar man standing in the vacant entryway behind Soap.

His posture was stiff, his shoulder pressed against the left side of the wall he leaned against. His broad arms were crossed, his head tilted downwards as he glared at Soap with hard, narrowed eyes at the display, almost making the whites of his eyes look nonexistent from the black paint shadowing his lids.

Maybe he heard every word Mactavish said, or maybe he came and saw the moment your hand settled on his. Regardless, he stood there like a bouncer at a nightclub, glaring down at someone who tried entering with a fake ID.

"No. He isn't." You chose to say, meeting John's gaze with your attempt at a serious expression.

"You're a terrible liar, lass." John squinted his eyes at you, watching your corners of your lips diligently try to refrain from smiling.

"Check." You flicked your head upwards, watching him turn his head to look over his shoulder.

Just like you expected, he was gone. As if he was never there.

The relieved look on John's face right after left you trying to use every facial muscle you could to stop smiling.

"Coulda swore he was there." John chuckled just a bit, proceeding to smirk at you again. "You looked like you had hearts in your eyes when you looked up."

"Oh, fuck off," You giggled, picking your abandoned fork off your tray.

"You sure he didn't come by to view his most favorite Seargent?" You tilted your head, watching his hand freeze. His brows fiercely furrowed, looking at you with an intense look of confusion.

"Who? Me?" He pointed at himself.

"Duh. Who else?"

"N-no," He chuckled, proceeding to shake his head. "No, lass. Don't get any ideas."

"Are you blushing??" You smiled more, starting to laugh when he shook his head again, a faint flush kissing his cheeks. "John! That's cute!"

"Christ, enough!" He barks at you, unable to hide a smile as you laughed again, joining in with you when you head tilted back in amusement.

"Forget everythin' I said. You didn't change a bit, kid."

"So, who exactly is it again?"

"Major Hassan. Long story short, the Ambassador I was sent to oversee get executed during a meeting with the Russians a few months back, this is his second in command."

"So, he's got all this army together and upgraded in less than three months?"

"It has been three months, but you're correct."

You asked questions you already knew the answers to, all for the sake of putting up the minor facade to keep Ghost from questioning otherwise. That was the plan, supposedly he had no idea that you and Soap were getting assigned under his command to go tonight.

You found him in his office after dinner, busying himself with his work. His office space was quite similar to Price's, but more... plain. Bland.

Price's office had a bit more character, which was a fancy way of saying he had a lot more clutter during the time you spent with him, mostly due to the fact he was always busy with the paperwork. That was part of being a Captain after all, it wasn't all just leading soldiers into battle.

Ghost's office was neater, no clutter of any kind laying around along his desk or overflowing the filing cabinets. All the offices that you've seen looked the same; limited space, bare bones walls, all sealed in by a single door.

When you came in after knocking, Ghost glared at you like nothing more than a recruit, an unknowing fly invading his personal space. In a matter of seconds, upon recognizing your pretty face once you pulled down your mask, his hardened, cold gaze melted just a bit.

You two spoke for a short while, the man attempting to continue his work, but eventually set down his long-forgotten pen. His eyes followed you as you mindlessly paced around his office, not really finding much to look at to keep yourself visually occupied.

You set Ghost's mug of lukewarm tea down on his desk after nursing on it while he spoke, exhaling a little bit while crossing your arms. "Wow, looks like you got your work cut out for you then." You paced away from his desk a bit, bringing your thumbnail to your mouth. "Capture mission, right?"

"Right," Ghost nodded once, watching you from where he sat in his chair. He didn't have spare chairs. He wasn't keen on visitors in his office in the first place.

“C’mere.”

“What?” You turned your head to look at him.

He glared at you, raising his settled hand from his lap to beckon you over with two fingers.

“I said, come here.”

Lowering your hand, you came closer, walking around the edge of his desk to stop in front of him as he turned his chair to face you.

"Why're you here?" He asked, watching you avoid your gaze for a split second before shrugging. "Just wanted to come see you."

"Did you now?" His large hands settled along your waist, instinctively making you take a step closer. "Sure it wasn't for somethin' else?"

Your hands settled along his shoulders, watching his head tilt to look you firmly in the eye. Small height differences like these never mattered, with eyes like his, piercing cold blue on a shade of pink tinted white canvases, he always looked stern, even if he didn’t intend to be. Or maybe it was just his mask doing a very, very good job.

"Tell me, love." He says, giving your waist a minor, semi-warning squeeze.

You leaned closer, keeping eye contact while settling your forehead over his. Being this close left you taking in his natural scent, his sharp, spicy musk mixed with a hint of generic aftershave from this morning, scents that had no business being so comforting, but they were his.

"Are you still jealous over John?" You confessed.

“Which one?” He gruffly questions.

“The one you stared down earlier,” You retorted, huffing a bit.

"What're you jealous over? What did we leave out last time? Hmm?" You leaned your head down to the side, pressing a kiss against his covered jaw before bringing your head back.

"Nothin," He mutters, giving your hips another additional squeeze, his palms slowly lowering down the sides of your thighs.

“Are you jealous because we laugh a lot? Is it cause Soap makes me laugh?"

He didn't look all too pleased with your choice of words. You tilted your head a bit, thinking of something else to say.

“Try it." You then proposed. "Make me laugh."

"You serious?" His brows either furrowed or raised in surprise.

You looked at him with said seriousness while nodding, giving him a bit of a shrug. "Tell me a joke.”

Ghost blinked, finding himself caught a bit off guard by your words. Tell you a joke? What an interesting request.

"Alright." He lowered his arms, folding his hands together in his lap while sitting forward.

“You’re aware that the terms ‘I’m sorry’ an’ ‘I apologize’ are the same thing, right?” He starts off, watching your face contort while thinking.

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly.

“Right. Well, not at a funeral it isn’t.”

You blinked. Ghost blinked right back at you, watching for any sign of... something. Anything.

Your lips started to curl, turning your head to the side as your cheeks puffed. A small snort left your mouth, followed by a growing giggle as the dam quickly fell apart.

Ghost simply continued to stare at you, watching the way your eyes closed as you tilted your head back, your arms falling out of their crossed position. It wasn't a loud bellow, nor was it really an overexaggerated chuckle. It was an honest laugh, your honest laugh, and he could tell was genuine.

That was more than enough to make his heart flutter.

"Christ Simon, not bad." You smiled through your words, "Didn’t know you were hiding some jokes in that head of yours.”

"You'd be scared to find what goes on in it." He sat back in his seat just a bit. "We all have our fair share of secrets to hide, kid."

“Oh, sure. I have a ton of secrets in my fluffy diaries.” You mused, settling your arm comfortably behind his shoulders, pressing your thumb along a strain of muscles that had his eyelids slowly lowering in delight.

"On a side note, I don't like keeping secrets from people I care about." Your voice was soft, as if you were speaking to yourself. Convincing yourself that you would never do such a thing.

His gaze lingered on your face, his hidden lips turning downwards for just a minor second or two.

"That a promise, sweetheart?" He questions you, glancing at you as you reached for the mug once again.

“Of course.” You smile at him before taking another sip of his tea, watching his eyes slowly soften with your answer, though something was a little off about the way he looked at you. You couldn't exactly place your finger towards how.

Releasing your hold on him, you took a step back until you leaned comfortably against his desk, cradling his mug in your hands.

“That can't be comfortable.”

“It feels fine to me.” You adjusted your footing, running your palm along the edge of his desk. “It's quite sturdy.”

He hummed a bit, proceeding to offer his left hand towards you. You rested your palm against his, smiling a little when his thumb brushed along the back of your hand.

“Get off.” He gave your hand a firm tug.

“Make me." You stated, determined to stay where you were.

“My office isn’t the place for that.” His eyes hardened at your choice of words.

“Offices are boring," You rolled your eyes, setting the now empty mug down. "I bet you if I walked in here in a coat with nothing under it, you’d change your mind.”

A hidden brow rose at your sudden, peculiarly interesting choice of words. “You suggestin' that I’m missing a coat rack in here?”

“You have any I can borrow? Coats, I mean.”

“Got a gray one. You could borrow that, if you get off my bloody desk.”

"Again, Mr. Riley. Make me."

He rose from his seat, taking a step closer once letting go of your hand. Slowly, you raised your hands to settle them along his shoulders, slowly trailing them down the army green material covering his chest. His eyes never left yours, firm, freezing irises glaring down at you with so much softness, as warm as his hands as they settled along your waist once more.

Your palms paused around his firm, lower abdomen, merely inches above his belt, looking into his eyes for permission of any kind.

His acceptance was silent, lowering his head closer to yours as if to kiss you, allowing your fingers more free roam than before. Smiling just a bit, your fingers hooked over his belt, giving it a sharp yank to bring him closer, causing him to take an additional two steps, almost causing you to lean back further against the surface of the desk, trapping you further by him.

Ghost leaned closer, keeping his hands secure along your sides, your noses brushing as your fingers undid his belt. His breathing grew raspier behind the shell of his mask, feeling himself tense as he felt your hands run along the surface of his aching, covered cock.

From where you were positioned against the desk, you were given limited sight to where his growing erection began to strain against his pants. Just the position you two were in, along with your eager fingers, left your cunt feel throbbing with excitement.

“You gonna tell me the truth, handsome?” You whispered against his mask, tempted to slip your fingers through his camo pants. “You gonna admit that you were jealous? Or do I need to get you on your knees again?”

He lifted a hand from your hip, caressing your jaw. Raising your face with soft pressure, the pads of his fingers traced along your scars, his thumb threatening to gain entry through your soft, sweet lips.

"You'd look even better on yours."

He pushed his thumb slowly into your mouth, not taking his eyes off you. A low hum rumbled in his chest when you start to suck on the thick digit, running your tongue along the calloused pad. Your hands could tell he grew harder just by this simple action, hearing the subtle sound of his zipper fill the air as you pulled it down.

Removing his thumb, that very same hand found sanctuary on the back of your head, tangling into your hair. He tugged your head back, hearing a small hiss pass through your lips.

In return, you gave his cock a firm squeeze through the coverings, forcing any threat on his tongue to vanish instantly.

“Shit-Christ, love.” He exhaled, his other hand finding a firm hold of your forearm. You could’ve cared less for the tinge of pain on your scalp, holding back an even bigger smile than the one you displayed when you felt his fingers slightly shake.

With a free hand, you tugged at the end of his balaclava from the collar of his shirt, raising the slick material just a bit over his mouth. This small gesture was more than enough for him to lean closer, attacking your lips instantly with his.

You each battled for dominance, a very short-lived battle that Ghost ultimately won. You didn't complain by any means, your fingers clinging onto the material of his army green long sleeve. Eventually, in need of oxygen, you broke apart first, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, giving a gentle bite.

Ghost was impatient, exhaling from the feeling before trapping your mouth with his again, forcing you both to harshly breathe through your noses when he refused to let up. His hands were unrelenting, keeping your head as close as possible to him, digging his fingers into your hips to keep you close.

It was only a matter of time before the both of you broke apart again, both panting rather hard, lips tinging and swollen from the romantic gesture, tainting your minds with a potent concoction of arousal and excitement for more.

Busying your hands once again, you eased your fingers through all restricting material keeping you from him. Easing your grip around his thick cock, you stroked him slowly, trailing your fingers along the velvety soft skin.

Ghost trapped your lips yet again, his feverish kisses mixing with minor hums, growing a bit restrained from the pleasure delivered from your soft hand. The words he spoke of moments before proceeded to rattle through your head, pressing your thumb over the surface of his flushed, glistening tip before you stopped.

A hand firmly pressed against the center of his chest, catching him off guard as you gave a small shove, causing him to glare at you in question. With an additional push, you gave yourself enough space to free yourself from the desk, the sharp edge digging uncomfortably against your hips.

Meeting your mischievous gave, Ghost watched you brace your hands against the desk as you slowly sank down to your knees, migrating yourself down towards his cock, free from all confines, eager for more than your delicate touch. The fat tip almost kissed your bottom lip as you got comfortable, feeling your cheeks flush at the sight of him so close.

With this being only your second time being so close, you couldn't help your slightly jittery hand reaching for the base of him, forcing yourself to relax. It was hard, especially once you looked up to see his feral, narrowed eyes fueled by fiery lust staring you down, making your heartbeat frantically faster.

With his cock in hand, you leaned closer, brushing your tongue along the tip alone, lapping at the fat bead of precum over the smooth surface. A low hum left his mouth, feeling you repeat the action again and again, giving teasing kitten licks just to build a rise out of him.

Growing too eager yourself, you opened your lips more, allowing his thick cock to breach into your mouth, hearing another low hum leave the man above you, your tongue slightly tracing along the veins that left him further exhaling.

His hand settled behind your head, slowly taking over to fix his own pace, watching his cock glisten as he lightly fucked into your mouth. You lowered your hand, your eyes slowly drifting closed as he did what he pleased.

He clicked his tongue once, giving your hair a firm tug. You winced, tensing your mouth just a bit, accidently grazing your teeth along his sensitive underside, making him hiss at the sudden, albeit welcome sting.

“Eyes up here.” He rasps, refraining your head from leaving whilst guiding your head up just a bit.

You opened them, swelling just a little with tears as the blunt head proceeded to hit the back of your mouth, a small, unspoken punishment for your accidental mishap.

“There you go.” He growled out, his rich low tone sending shivers down your body.

Ghost pushed into your mouth a bit further without any warning, almost making you gag. You tried to keep calm as he stayed in place, digging your fingers into the fabric covering his calves He pulled out halfway, your lips remaining flush around the tip, watching your cheeks hallow in preparation, knowing he was going to do it again and again.

"Good girl," He muttered out that bit of praise, feeling your heart raise with additional frantic beats. He groaned low again while rocking his hips, fucking his cock back deep into your mouth, hearing that ever so satisfying wet sound that followed.

“Oh fuck, you like that, yeah? You like swallowin’ my cock like this?”

You hummed in agreement, catching a glimpse of his shoulders tensing from the vibrations along his length. His chest slowly rose and fell with his breathing, shoulders rising in tandem from his arousal.

His hands braced themselves against the edge of his desk, your lieutenant struggling to comprehend a single word, hazy blue eyes frozen at the sight of you on your knees, your mouth stuffed full of his cock, looking up at him through those pretty little lashes.

His eyes narrowed, catching glimpses of your hands moving along your waistband, tugging your own zipper open. Your eyes were centimeters away from closing, your lips relaxing as you savored his cock, your fingers lightly rubbing along your own clit for much desired friction that shifting your thighs together couldn't bring.

In one fluid movement, he pulled himself out from your mouth, grabbing hold of your arm before giving you a chance to complain. Ghost pulled you up from the ground, turning you around and pressing you forward onto the surface of his desk.

You tried to turn around to look at him, but Ghost took you by your hips and kept your body facing forward, stepping closer to keep you secured against its surface, making your knees buckle from his enforcing dominance. Your hands pressing against papers as they sprawled against the surface to keep you upright.

From how flush he was pressed against you, you could feel his hard, throbbing cock against your backside, his hands roaming over your front, slipping under your shirt to grope your breasts, the other slipping straight down into your pants.

Don't tell me he even gets jealous of your own hands touching what's his.

“Wait, Si- I-“

“Shut up.” He growled against your skin, his thick fingers pushed past the fabric of your damp underwear, slipping into your warm, slick folds. You couldn't deny his eagerness, despite wanting to be on your knees a bit longer for him, you were way too turned on right now to care.

His broad waist pressed up against you, feeling his cock grinding against the fabric of your pants, dampening the material with your lingering saliva and additional precum. A grunt escaped his lips, quickly being met with your soft whine as his fingers worked firm circles over your clit, his other fingers pinching your nipples hard.

“You little fucking minx," He mutters into the shell of your ear, slipping two fingers knuckle deep into your pussy, groaning lightly at your whimper from the stretch. "Whoring yourself out like this in my own damn office.”

His broad arm wrapped around your torso, snug under your breasts to keep you caged against him while fucking you with nothing more than his fingers, listening to the sinful, luscious wet sloshes of your crying cunt.

You brought your hand down to his, your fingers tightly wrapping around his wrist. Your moans were so sweet, lulling him into a trance to please you as his fingers worked faster, curling just at the right spot once they were deep enough.

The slapping of his palm against your clit repeatedly had your hips pushing further back against his, your breathing growing heavier, mixed with soft moans and dragged-out whines. Simon’s lips met yours when you craned your head, swallowing your moans before they grew too loud for his liking.

His hand pauses, breaking the kiss as his head flickered towards the door. His hand immediately covered your lips, temporarily covering your nose, catching you more off guard than the unknown stranger. You almost stopped breathing, clutching hold of his arms as the sounds of combat boots against the hallway floor echoed just outside the door.

Oh fuck, you realized that you didn't lock the door.

Multiple eyes remained intensely focused on the shadow under the doorway, catching sight of when it past, the office suddenly dead quiet.

The footsteps significantly faded, the unknown person turning the far corner. The room remained drenched in utter silence, your heart banging painfully loud in your chest, your cheeks filled with an embarrassingly amount of heat. Ghost's hand slowly relaxed, removing his finger from your nose so you could breathe properly.

You gasped louder than you had meant against his palm when his thumb brushed lightly against your clit. He stopped moving his fingers, keeping them buried inside of you as he leaned his head closer to your ear, the edges of the skull's teeth grazing against your skin.

"Do you want them to hear us?" Ghost whispered.

You shook your head, making a small, muffled sound that signified no.

"Then keep quiet." Ghost growled the last word, feeling your pussy clench around his fingers at the sound.

Ghost started pumping his fingers in and out of you again, the sounds of your excitement further filling the air. His thumb firmly rolled your clit, rubbing almost in sync with his thrusts. He kept his hand over your mouth to muffle you, not quite trusting you to keep yourself silent just yet.

Your hands found the edge of the desk, giving you something for added leverage. Your breathing was growing heavier, becoming harder and harder to obey his command, feeling yourself reaching that edge of the cliff.

Instead of growing ever so closer towards your peak, Ghost abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, removing his hand from your mouth to hear your rich exhale in dismay at the loss. You glared at him over your shoulder, watching him simply bring his glistening fingers to his lips, running his tongue along the digits.

You couldn't believe this British bastard. You had been so close, and he just stops and pulls away, refraining you from what you wanted. Before you could, politely, ask him what the hell was up with him, his hand pressed flat against your back, beckoning your torso forward.

Your hands barely had enough time to push any unknown paperwork aside before your front met the desk, your breasts flattening against the chilly surface, sending goosebumps throughout your body.

You peered over your shoulder at him, witnessing him shoving his pants down just a bit further, all while tugging yours off until all fabric hit the ground. Everything hit the floor with a considerably loud thud, especially your boots.

Ghost couldn't take his eyes off the sight of you, your gorgeous body draped over his desk like a shining reward, your flushed face and glistening eyes staring back at him, fueled by none other than an anticipating need. Utter, beautiful perfection, and it was all his.

The itch to be deep in you was killing him, eliminating any doubts of wanting to fuck you anywhere other than the comfort of his room. The Humvee was an exception, if you were to ever ask him about it.

“Bloody hell, if I fuck you now, it won’t last.” He mutters to you while massaging along your ass, though it sounded more directed towards himself.

“I don’t care, Si." Your soft, pleading voice calls to him, watching his eyes focus on yours. "I need you, please.”

Your poor thing. You needed him.

With one hand, Ghost lined his cock up with your entrance whilst the other secured your hip. You bit your lower lip in anticipation of what was to come, craving the desire for him to fill you, that deep, satisfying stretch you felt each time he was deep inside. Anticipation burned brighter in your lower belly, tensing as the head of his cock brushed past your clit.

He teased your entrance with the head of his cock first, coating it in your glistening juices, admiring the sight of your little hole clenching over nothing, begging for him. Then, bracing a firm hand near yours to your right, he finally began to push into you. Your walls fluttered around him as you adjusted to his size, your back lightly arching as your hand found a grip of his wrist, digging crescent marks into his skin.

Ghost pulled his hand out of yours, bracing himself over you as he covered your mouth again, making you immediately tense at the suspicion that someone else was coming by the door again. You absolutely had no idea how you were going to keep quiet when he was stretching you so deliciously well, but that's what his hand was for, to muffle all your moans.

Once he was mostly buried inside, he began to pull back out, relaxing his hand to allow you to breathe through his fingers. Once only the head of his cock remained inside your pulsing walls, he pushed back in quite hard, forcing a gasp out of you, forcing you to cover his hand with your own over your mouth. Ghost set a steady pace in and out of you, almost smirking at the sounds of your breath hitching with each thrust, whining from how deep his cock felt inside of you, growing harder and harder for you to bite back your moans.

Ghost, other than his slightly muffled, raspy breathing, was more or less quieter than you. The man kept a bruising grip on your side, the way his exposed jaw kept clenched, watching the way your ass bounced as he thrusted into you.

You didn't think it was particularly fair that he was able to keep quiet, getting on your more rational nerves that weren't coursing with pleasure, but what could you really do about it?

His grip on your hips significantly tightened as he stopped, his head flicking up towards the door once more. Those unmistakable footsteps came close once again, along with another as they caught up to their unknown partner.

Talk about timing. You couldn't help yourself, wanting to fight the urge, but the promised motive and outcome was too great to stop and wait for. Bracing your feet against the ground, you moved your hips back just enough to continue the pleasure, forcing yourself to hold back a whine.

His grip on you harder than stone, fingertips almost digging into your skin. Ghost leaned down closer to you, feeling his breath fan across your neck. Even without the eye contact, Ghost's glare was intense, joining perfectly with his tough aura, leaving you feeling pinned by it. You could see why all his enemies were truly terrified of him.

"Do you want us to get caught?" He growled into your ear, slightly hissing when your pussy clenched, his breath hitching towards the end.

Your repeated the action, feeling his torso slightly tremble as a low groan left him. You couldn't deny it, hearing those rich, gorgeous sounds from him always shot tingles down your spine, fueling you with excitement each time.

"Christ, you insufferable little slut," he muttered, potent annoyance heavy in his voice. He harshly snapped his hips against yours, stealing away your breath, making any retort die in your throat.

Each of his thrusts were harder and deeper than the last once the footsteps faded. The desk beneath you slightly moved with each of his sharp thrusts, the sounds of him slapping against your drenched pussy growing louder and louder. If you hadn't been so lost in your mind meddling euphoria, you would've started worrying over the obvious possibility you were going to be caught now.

You felt Ghost's forearm brace against your shoulders as he pulled you up from the desk, your back now flush against his front as he thrusted up into you more feverishly than before, moving his hand towards your throat. Your head rested back against his shoulder, moaning louder from the deep angle, the blunt head of his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly. At this pace, you felt merely inches away from your release, it was only a matter of seconds before Ghost could give it to you.

"Simon, please," You soft whines mixed with your eager moans begged him for that final push you needed so badly. His hand quickly moved downwards toward your core, barely feeling his fingers brush against your clit before stopping again, leaving you whining once more in irritation.

Before you could ask, the hand around your throat came up and covered your mouth.

"Shhh!" he hissed in your ear. You listened again, but didn't hear that all familiar, highly annoying sound of footsteps coming closer this time.

He caught you off guard by the fierce clash of his hips against yours, moving harder and faster as he harshly rubbed your clit. Keeping his hand over your mouth, muffling all of your weakly restrained attempts to get him to stop, mixed with shameless moans against his palm, raising your head just enough to capture your lips.

Your orgasm washed through your body, an intense heat coursing through your veins, clashing against your worries of being heard and discovered. Ghost clutched your thrashing hips hard, keeping you tightly supported against his body, swallowing all of your moans in a brash, intense kiss.

He stopped his movements, but your eager body refused for the pleasure to cease, bracing your hands on the desk once more while moving your hips back against his, proceeding to fuck yourself further back against his cock. He inhaled sharply at the contact, a low muffled groan leaving him as his grip on your thighs tightened, guiding you back on his cock while listening to your muffled sighs of relief until you rode out your orgasm.

As you crashed from your high, you almost slump back against him in his arms, a set of small, breathless sighs escaping your lips once you broke away. You open your eyes, meeting his focused gaze on you.

"Fuck," You exhaled, your face hot, your lips tingling as much as each of your lips. "God. There... there wasn't anyone out there, was there?"

Ghost was quiet, exhaling his own share of small pants. Of course, he said nothing, confirming your suspicions.

"You're infuriating," You breathlessly sneer at him in annoyance.

Ghost slightly tilted his head while giving you a bit of a glare, almost like he was challenging you to do something about it.

You should give him a little punch or two, but you didn't want this to end just yet. His cock still remained buried deep in you, throbbing with an eager need to finish, and that alone began to excite you once more.

Exhaling again, you moved yourself to lean over the desk, feeling his hard cock slowly sink out of you, your core wincing from his absence as you turned yourself around. Using the strength of your slightly trembling arms, you hoisted yourself on the edge of the desk.

When turning around to face him again, Ghost was a sight to behold. His army green shirt clinging to his muscles, lightly damp from exertion. His thick, glistening cock standing proudly, throbbing with a desire to return to you and finish what was started. As you settled, his eager eyes drifting down between your legs, his lust shining like diamonds in his pretty eyes. You reached for his hand, holding onto his forearm instead as his hands gripped your hips, the tip of his cock brushing along your inner thigh as he brought you closer.

His mouth watered at the sight of your pussy, growing a bit irritated that he didn't have you visiting his office much sooner. Just the thought of your soft, inner thighs closing around his face, your walls contracting around his tongue as he hungrily lapped at your wetness drove him to refrain from growing irritated over it. When he isn't too eager to continue, he'll be more than content in laying between your thighs for hours.

Your soft hand guiding his cock back towards your dripping core broke him from his thoughts, the both of you exhaling sighs of utter relief as he filled you once more. His hands reinforced his grip on your thighs, guiding your hips with his as he fucked into you, watching you lay back against a braced elbow, keeping one arm firmly clutching his shoulder.

The room was quickly filled with the sounds of your moans and skin hitting skin, as well as Ghost's own low groans of pleasure. You thought he sounded so much better when he was more vocal, fueled by absolute pleasure rather than the sharp, strict tone of voice when instructing or barking at others. These sounds he made were yours and yours alone, and you cherished every ounce of it.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tilted your head back, exposing your neck to him, losing yourself in the motions, relishing in the feeling of how good his cock felt buried in you.

Ghost quickly took advantage of this given opportunity, feeling his mouth against your neck, pressing multiple hot kisses. He trailed his lips downwards, brushing over your collarbone down towards the swell of your bouncing breasts. His wet tongue swirled around your nipple before tugging it between his teeth, making you gasp and clutch the back of his head.

The force of his thrusts grew harsher, the sting of your skin from his lips growing hotter as his pace grew impatiently quicker, leaving you whining and tugging against the balaclava, slipping your fingers under to tangle into his hair. Your nails scratched against the skin of his scalp as he only grew rougher, your lips giving away to loud, trembling moans as the objective to stay quiet left you.

His torso leaned over you further, forcing you to lay back against the desk, not once breaking his frantic pace. Your forehead came to rest on his shoulder as you let him take control and fuck you like a crazed, impatient man.

You could feel your climax quickly approaching, giving you the urge to slip a hand between your bodies so that you could rub your clit, only for his hand to halt you by your wrist. His thrusts dramatically slowed before coming to a complete stop, leaving you tensing in a heavy mix of irritation and annoyance once again.

"What you said earlier, that wasn't nice." he growled against your ear, his voice dangerously low, "Infuriating, hm? You hurt my feelings, sweetheart."

Shiiit. You silently cursed, groaning out in utter frustration. You should have known that Ghost would pull something like this once you had given him control, knowing the smug bastard behind all his broodiness.

Ghost started to move again, only this time his pace was torturously, painstakingly slow. His grip on you remained iron tight, making sure you wouldn't move on your own unless he wanted you to, forcing you completely at his mercy. He brought his thumb over your clit, matching the pace of his thrusts, enough to bring you some amount of pleasure, but nowhere near enough to bring you back towards your close orgasm from before.

He kept this pace up for a time, driving you absolutely insane. Any attempts to move on your own only caused him to pin you down further with his weight, trapping his broad waist against your open thighs, leaving you constantly whining in annoyance. You were so desperate for another release, and he had absolutely no problem in so cruelly denying you from it.

Surely, he was starting to grow desperate for his own climax as well. He had to be. This couldn't go on for much longer, it would kill you to go through another minute of this.

You knew what he wanted, what he was waiting to hear. He wanted you to beg, and to be completely honest, you were drawing ever so close to give him the satisfaction.

In a last-ditch effort, you tried bucking your hips upwards, but it only proved quite impossible. He clicked his tongue, glaring you down as you whined out his name in defeat.

"I know how badly you want to, love. I can feel it. Be a good girl and beg for it."

Defeatedly, you felt your own resolve completely crumble into dust all around you. You were so desperate for release that you really didn't care how you sounded anymore, giving into what he wanted so you could reach what you needed.

"Please, Simon please let me-," you begged him, whining out an additional curse through a groan, "I need to cum. I need it so bad."

He didn't start to move fast straight away. Instead, with a finger coming to rest beneath your chin, he titled your head up to make you look at him.

"Good girl. Fuck-That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Before you could even think of a response, he pulled himself back out only to roughly thrust back in, watching your breasts bounce from the impact. His fingers went back to playing with your clit, rubbing feverishly hard to jumpstart you back to your approaching orgasm. Your nails clawed into his biceps, your heels digging into his lower back, trying to get him to go deeper, finding yourself praying for him to not purposefully deny you again.

The desk beneath the two of you started to grunt in protest of the movements. In the haze of your pleasure and approaching release, you briefly wondered if it was going to collapse underneath your weights and send you both straight to the floor.

Your eyes quickly sealed shut, your back arching with your lips parting in a semi-silent scream, pressing your front against Ghost's rumbling chest, finding himself groaning at the feeling of your walls pulsing and squeezing his throbbing cock, trying to milk his seed from him. Ghost fucked you through your body racking orgasm and kept going, showing no sign of reaching his peak yet.

He now seemed hellbent on making you cum again and again, reaching that point in his mind where he needed to see you collapse like this, intending on burning this to memory from now on every time he was to walk into his office.

He rose up off of you suddenly, leaving you missing the warmth of his body, raising both your legs to let himself in deeper. You had no further complaints, throwing your head back as moan after deep moan left you.

Suddenly, he drops one of your legs, keeping the other one raised over his board shoulder. Leaning close, he covered your mouth, making you gasp through your nose, catching you off guard yet again.

“Shh.” His eyes were frozen on the door, making you go stiff in shock at the knocks that abruptly hit the surface. You turn your head to look over but find you can’t from Ghost’s tight grip over your jaw.

“Not. A word.” He murmurs into your ear, but he doesn't stop his thrusts. He still fucks into you feverishly, just enough to where the slapping of skin isn't too loud, but shallow enough to prod against your g-spot. Despite his hand for cover, it grew harder and harder to keep quiet, as if he was doing this on purpose.

The knocks came again, Ghost himself struggling to keep quiet, feeling your walls tightening around his cock, desperately searching for that desired high you were both so close to.

Whoever was on the other end remained deathly quiet, making you hope they weren't trying to listen, mentally begging that they wouldn't try to open the door to look inside. Thankfully, they soon shifted away, making your shoulders slump back against the desk in relief.

He bucked his hips deeper, hitting that spot that left you delightfully crying against his palm before he removed it, lowering his body down against you once more. His hands braced against the edge of the desk, gripping it hard to use as leverage to buck deeper into you, not caring whatever fell from the surface.

Breathlessly, you whispered in his ear to come. Soft pitched whines pleading for him to finish in you, how much you needed him to. You even went as far as to bite at his earlobe through the balaclava, hearing a rich hiss leave his mouth.

All your pleading had him groaning deeply against your neck, feeling your arms slide over his shoulders to hold him closer, your legs securing around his thick waist in anticipation as if your life depended on him to keep you from falling. Feeling your chest push up as your spine tensed, he brings his hand onto your stomach, holding you down and finding your lips for a heated kiss, swallowing the rest of your moans.

Soon enough, you're not able to kiss him any longer, your glistening lips brushing against his with every eager moan and trembling gasps, your eyes closing while his remained strictly focused on your features. Your interlaced fingers dig into his hand, leaving deep crescent marks on the back of his palm. An attempt to speak his name immediately failed, coming out in unfinished syllables before another hot, blinding orgasm burned your nerves, cascading throughout your body in in harsh waves.

You clung to the life raft that was the man above you, who made you feel so good, both in body and mind.

“Christ, love. You're so goddamn gorgeous-mph-oh fuck-" Ghost held his breath, his hips slapping against yours in a quick, uneven pace before stilling, the muscles in his exposed neck harshly tensing.

You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, the man muffling his own loud moan against your shoulder. He thrusted several more times, emitting a fraction of a grunt each time, riding both of you through your release before finally stopping.

Both of you breathed hard against each other, Your head settling back against the now warmed surface of the desk, struggling to come down from your delirious high. Ghost was panting particularly hard himself, the bruising grip he'd had on you previously had lessened.

"Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispered against your neck, his voice raspy and breathless, never sounding more beautiful than ever. Only the sounds of your heavy breathing filled the room, the two of you keeping still while catching your breaths, soaking in the warm, post sex glow.

Your hand squeezed his, keeping your interlaced fingers together a bit longer before letting go, feeling the shift as Ghost rose off of you.

Shadowed eyes glanced downwards where the both of you were still joined, staring at his slick cock still securely hugged by your warm, wet walls. He knew what was coming once he removed himself, already looking forward to the encore.

Rubbing small circles along the soft skin of your inner thighs, he pulls himself out, hearing a small sigh escape from your lips due to the absence of him. His eyes fixated on the way your walls clenched over nothing momentarily before relaxing, slick and exhausted.

Slowly, Ghost's two fingers lightly trailed over your clit, watching you tense just a little. trailing downwards, he paused towards the bottom of your hole, watching the warm trail of his own cum pool over the pads of his fingers, scooping up just enough before slipping his fingers back inside.

You winced again, closing your eyes from the sensation. He kept his fingers buried deep, preventing any drop of his seed from leaving your body. It wasn't going to stay like that, he knew that, but he liked the idea of it.

Soft kisses were planted along the side of your neck, feeling your body lightly tremble while lightly pumping his fingers a few times, finally stopping in response to a light tug against his shirt collar.

After removing his fingers, he proceeded to help you slowly redress yourself. His eyes remained glued to the sight of your pussy, flushed and drenched with his cum, slowly staining the fabric of your panties as he slid them back on, adjusting the waistband over your hips.

“Go to my room, go get washed up. I’ll be there when I’m done here.”

“That an order?” You exhaled, staring up at him with glazed, half lidded eyes.

“It’s a request, love. Now go.”

Gentle rolls of steam clouded the bathroom in a warm, calming environment, fogging up the surface of the porcelain sink and the reflective surface of the mirror you stood in front of. Your skin was warm from the hot water of your shower, your towel draped over your shoulders, barely covering your nude torso.

You angled your head slowly, turning to look at your scarred complexion as the fog slowly subsided from the mirror, revealing your reflection to you. Over time, the bright, pink scar eventually faded, the skin slightly tightening while it healed.

For the longest time, you wished it would eventually fade from existence on your face, wincing at the occasional ghost of the burns crawling through your skin. If there was some kind of special ointment or cream made from any sort of God to take it away, you'd use it religiously until no remnant of scar tissue remained.

Sadly, such fairy tales didn't exist in this cruel world. You were left with a permanent reminder you didn't want every time you looked in the mirror, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that you were getting better.

You wondered if makeup would ever do wonders to save you, but you honestly doubted it now. Surgery wasn't an option, it was cutting off your skin to be replaced by a stranger's, which would only lead to more unnecessary scars.

It was just no use now.

The bathroom door opened, making you jump and frantically turn your head, seeing Simon's exposed face in the doorway, brows raised in question.

"What're you doing?"

"Oh, just thought I had something in my eye," You smiled a bit before backing away from the sink, feeling his hand quickly stop you by grabbing ahold of your arm before you could walk past him.

His thumb raised and rested along your cheek, trailing along the beginning of your scar line. Carefully, as if following the constellation of the stars on your face, his thumb followed the crude trail, stopping towards the end of your bottom lip.

The air was silent between the both of you, your eyes lost in his in silent confusion. Without any additional word, he released you, allowing you to leave the bathroom, closing door behind him.

Huh. You were left a little confused, looking back over towards the bed in question, feeling your tensed shoulders relax. Pulling the towel off your shoulders, you approached your duffle bag you set on top of his bed, noticing an article of clothing you haven't seen before.

You ran your fingers along the surface of the plush, gray fleece. Lifting the clothing off your bag, you raised it up to reveal it being a coat, looking a little stretched and old. Large, thick patches along to the broad sleeves, recognizing the UK flag instantly. Was this the coat he was talking about?

You instinctively brought the fabric close to your nose, breathing in the stale scent of laundry detergent with a hint of him. Just him.

Unzipping the silver zipper, you proceeded to drape it over your shoulders, feeling the cozy warmth flood your body, leaving you smiling a little delightfully. Slipping your arms through the big sleeves, you chose to leave it unzipped, figuring it would be quite a sight for Simon to come out and see.

Hearing the scraping of the curtain rings against the shower rod followed by the sounds of the shower running had you figure he'd take a while, sitting yourself in Simon's desk chair, mindlessly messing with your dog tags while busying your mind with anything to distract you.

Your attention traveled over towards the stacks of journals and books he had in the corner of his desk while reaching over for a new mug of hot tea he must've brought in. He liked his quite strong, two tea bags, sometimes three if it's a larger mug, very little milk when it was available, and rarely any sugar.

He had quite a thing for caffeine, taking to black tea, coffee, and energizing gum.

It left you feeling a little glad that he'd sleep a bit better when he was in your presence, smiling at the thought as you nestled the mug within your hands, slouching comfortably in your seat. Though, the caffeine problem was an addiction even you couldn't beat, tasting the strong tea on your tongue as you took a long sip.

You heard the bathroom door open after a few moments of mindless daydreaming, turning the chair over to face Simon as he left the bathroom, dressed in only his pants.

His gaze met yours as he stopped at the end of his bed, seeing you completely relaxed in his chair, dressed in nothing but your pants and his jacket. His unzipped coat covered your breasts, leaving their naturally alluring shape quite visible, your dog tags nestled comfortably in between.

"Eyes up here, Lieutenant." You smirked, taking another sip of tea before setting the mug down and standing, walking around the bed to approach him.

His eyes followed you like a hawk, watching you innocently fold your hands behind your back. A smile inevitably broke across your face again, reaching up to caress his cheek before giving him a slow, pleasant kiss.

His hands snuck under the coat, roaming to rest along the small of your back. His nose pressed against yours, leaning into the kiss further while shifting your hips, moving you to sit on the edge of the bed.

From there, the kiss broke. As much as it delighted the both of you to continue, the hour drew ever so near towards night. He chose to get ready quite early to attend a final briefing before leaving, and for all you knew, he was still unaware of you and Soap also attending.

While lounging back on his bed, watching him get dressed, your attention inevitably went back towards the journals. Buried within the stacks were a few books, some you had lent to him after you were done reading them.

You asked him once what all the journals were for, and he almost hesitated to answer at first as he tied on his boots.

"An old friend of mine, long time ago, recommended I do a bit of journalin', supposedly helps get things out of my mind when there's no one to speak to."

"Oh," You nodded a little in understanding. "Has it helped?"

Simon looked away a bit, brows furrowed in thought. He wanted to say no, but it would go against the fact he still wrote in them when he had the time or felt like it, honoring his silent promise.

"Sort of." He slowly admitted. "When there's no other option."

"Who's this friend? Have I met him before?"

"No," He sat up from the bed, checking to make sure his boots were secure. “He’s not around here. You couldn’t have met him, was a long time ago.”

"What was his name?" You then asked, a bit of a somber tone in the edge of your voice. Simon gazed downwards, wanting to object that hinting dread, but couldn't bring himself to.

"I'll give you a hint," He turned back to look at you. "It's those annoyin' little buggers you see crawlin' around the damn base sometimes."

You arched your brow, trying to figure out through his point of view. "The recruits?" You shrugged. "I don't know. Everyone is annoying to you. That's a hard question."

"Smaller, quieter than recruits."

"The rats?"

"Smaller."

"You're not making sense."

"You're not thinkin' hard enough."

"Just tell me," You smiled a bit, sitting up more to get closer to him. He huffed in amusement, slipping his navy-blue coat over his shoulders.

"Roach. We called him Roach."

You nodded once more in understanding, humming a little to let him know you acknowledged him.

"You must write a lot if you have all those journals." You continued on the conversation, not wanting to leave it on a somber note.

"They aren't just for writing."

"What else?"

"I... draw." He shrugs it off like its nothing, but it further piques your interest. "You do? How come you've never showed me-"

He shook his head instantly as he stood. "It's unimportant. Don't worry your head for it."

"But I wanna see-"

"No."

"Can I see, please?" You tried again, watching him turn to glare at you with a heavy exhale through his nose. Your pretty eyes and smile won't give you what you wanted this time.

Your back instantly met the surface of the bed, the edges of the coat dangerously close to slipping completely off your chest, the warm zippers brushing lightly against your nipples.

He pulled you closer towards his waist by your legs, gently holding your throat with black stained fingertips to look you in the eye, bracing his other hand beside your head.

"Listen here, gorgeous. Don't go proddin' your little nose over things that aren't your business just yet. Alright?"

Yet. That aren't your business yet, you took those words into consideration. You didn't know why that excited you, it let you know that one day he was going to open up more to you, and that meant the world to hear.

You ran your hands along his hanging dog tags, twirling your finger along the chain before hooking your finger on it, giving it a light tug.

"Don't go snooping around in your diaries, alright."

"Christ," He mutters under his breath, hearing your small giggle. "Had a feelin' you'd say that."

"You led it up towards it, Simon." You tugged again, signaling that you wanted him closer.

His body slowly rested against yours, still keeping himself braced on his arms so you wouldn't get crushed. Your other hand ran around towards the back of his neck, trailing lightly along his damp hair.

"Can I stay in here?"

"Why?"

"So I can sleep, I've gotten used to sleeping in your bed." You admitted, watching his head tilt, giving you a feigned, annoyed glare.

"Startin' to act like a little pampered Princess, aren't ya?" His lips rumble against your jawline when he lowered his face, making your body shiver. You adored his naturally abrasive tone dimming down when he spoke like this, especially in private. It was a voice meant for you and no one else, leaving you almost smiling like an idiot before he had a chance to notice.

"At least I asked." You tilted your head, meeting his lips in a soft, mind melting dance. You clung to him like a gentle lover, kissing him like a blushing bride on her honeymoon. Any minute longer of this gentle ecstasy, and Simon would've personally dismissed the briefing to stay with you for a few more hours.

Despite your tightening grip, he rose off of you, getting back onto his own two legs, grunting against your protests to cling to him just a little longer.

Sighing, you rose from the bed, watching his back turn towards you as he slipped on his gloves. You stepped in front of him, running your fingers along his chest, adjusting the collar of his blue jacket.

"The mask."

"Hm?" You met his gaze, seeing him nod his head towards his mask, which rested on the dresser behind you. You reached over and grabbed it, adjusting your fingers around the material, raising your hands up to him. He lowered his head, allowing you to slip the balaclava over his face.

His eyes closed, his face vanishing over the slick, shiny painted material. His eyes opened behind the skull, meeting yours as focused on tucking the excess material under the collar of his blue coat. Picking up his dog tags, you slid them under the safety of his clothing, smoothing everything firmly until it looked visually neat and secure.

Your head rose, giving him a small, innocent smile.

"Make every bullet count, Lieutenant."

The mug immediately tilted from the sudden contact of your wrist, toppling along the nearest small stack of books, the liquid seeping into the pages of one of Ghost’s journals.

“Oh shit-fuuuck!” You snarled towards yourself, quickly picking the mug off its side, grabbing ahold of said soaked journal from the bottom of the stack, immediately looking over your shoulder for a rag of some kind to save the papers.

Looking in front of you, you quickly reached for some cut up brown material, leftovers from his little mask making hobby. You dabbed it against the papers, feeling your fingers grow damp as the bitter tea was quickly absorbed.

Unfortunately, some writing was smeared just a tad, but not enough to make the words indescribable. His handwriting was rather neat; The words written in black or blue ink, or in dark graphite, depending on what was nearby.

"Fuck's sake, that's what you get for wanting to stay literate Y/n," You muttered to yourself, gently dabbing the paper with more patches of dry cloth, looking over the words to make sure they were still readable.

You didn't even intend to reach for his journals in the first place. What you were going for was one of the books, hoping to do a bit of rereading to pass the time after failing to sleep for about twenty minutes once Ghost left.

Scanning your eyes over the pages, you winced at the murky brown stain that ruined the bleach white papers. Whatever had been written in the corners had long since diminished into murky blobs of stained ink, but thankfully, the small paragraphs remained mostly undamaged.

You couldn't help but read over a few words, growing concerned over how oddly suspiciously easy the ink started to smear. The pen marks were deeply intended into the paper, his wording slightly slanted, as if he had written these words with a heavy, trembling hand at the time.

I see myself in her, my misery, my pain, my need for vengeance. It cuts deep, like a fucked up fractured mirror. I swore I’d never let anyone get close again, I fucking swore it to myself.  

I don’t deserve this, any of this, whatever illusions she has of me, whatever fairy tales she’s conjured up about me, it isn’t worth it. 

Quickly, you closed the book, feeling your heart drop deep into your stomach.

No, don't. Your fingers quickly lost the space between the pages, fighting the urge to continue reading, despite the dreadful confusion that showered over your shoulders like breaking through the surface of a frozen lake, unwillingly submitting to below freezing waters.

Despite the shock, you quickly opened the book as fast as you closed it, not wanting to ruin the damp pages any more than you already had. Your temptation was battling you tooth and nail, not wanting to read any further, and yet, you were stunned.

That had to have been directed towards you. There was no one else that could've been directed towards.

You turned through the wet pages, the stench of tea sticking painfully to the back of your throat. Finding the entry you thought it was, you were quickly proved wrong with the unfamiliar words. However, you couldn't stop reading once you started, feeling every blue ink smeared sentence repeatedly ripping every blood delivering tube from your heart like a cord from an outlet, severing the connection from your organ to make it stop beating.

Mactavish is close to her, too fucking close. I never noticed before, didn’t care to. He makes her laugh, full on belly laughs. She’s fucking beautiful when she laughs, when she smiles, when she cries. 

I knew they were friends, fuck, everyone is friends with her, even Price can’t get enough of her. It’s irritating, she’s been beaten and broken and yet, she hides it, pretends like she’s okay. Makes sure everyone else is okay before her. A good little soldier. 

Well, not anymore, I guess.  

Pain is manageable, expected. Torture, not so much, not to this degree, at least.  I've endured years of it, she's only fell victim to a few hours, but that's all it takes. She'll never be the same, regardless of if she's aware of it or not.

Price wants to give her time, let her come to terms with her new reality, her new self. He cares for her, they all do. Like a wounded puppy.

She'll never recover. Not fully at least. Her identity has been stripped from her, stolen. She’ll never get it back, not the way she wants to. 

No amount of death can fix it. You can only solve the problem, but the damage has long since been done. She should know that. I know that.

That’s where it leaves us, two sides to the same coin. A Ghost and a Mirage. 

False images and phantoms of ourselves, living on the crumbs of what's left of our identities to mask what's all behind it when the covers fade.

Broken, battered people filled with rage. A fire that can’t be put out, forever burning and destroying. Maybe her name suits her well after all, curious to see how much longer it lasts. 

You looked up slowly, blinking in utter disbelief. Why would he even write something like this? Again, he was talking about you, who else would there be?

You had a mask? No, you didn't.

You were yourself, the woman you were now is how you act, it's who you are, who you've always been. Why would he write such untruthful things about you? You believed, you assumed, he thought of you differently than that.

Glancing back down, you moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, his journal clutched tightly in your hands despite your better judgement. You had to leave and prepare to join the marines at midnight, but your rationality had long since been compromised.

You couldn’t help but read further, immediately wishing you hadn’t, but these words, all these horrid, unspoken words dragged you in, sinking its cruel cold nails into your eyes, forcing you to follow every line. The more words you read, the more your chest began to burn, the bitter the taste in your throat grew, like biting into the peel of a rotten orange.

I despise the woman’s talents.

She’s rarely alone. When she is, she behaves like herself. Quiet, eyes shifting over her shoulders, conflicted with her surroundings, struggling to comprehend things in her mind she’s told no one of. Not even me.

When she’s with anyone else, it changes. With Gaz, she’s soft and kind. With the Price, she’s serious and amused all at once. With Johnny, she’s loud and uncharacteristically similar, always by him when she needs a laugh.

She harbors the traits of a chameleon. She matches their attitudes to get along with them, though I’m sure they enjoy her company regardless.

That shield of hers doesn’t seem quite as genuine as she puts off, but it keeps everyone happy.

With me, she smiles wide, genuinely. She doesn't know what she's smiling at and isn't aware that it's not smiling back. Her relaxed eyes always stay focused with some sort of purpose. A purpose to see through me, to learn more of me, much more than she could ever want to know.

The closer she gets, the more my own self-control slips each time. Sex has become an interesting way for our demons to get to know each other much, much better. She relishes in it, she wants it, she craves it.

That’s what she does, doesn’t she? Focuses on everything and everyone else around her instead of herself, distracting her better judgement with amusements, violence and sin. It’s her own stash of liquor she partakes regularly to forget herself.

That mask has seen better days. Every time it breaks it reveals someone dull behind it, and every time it gets fixed and placed back on her face, the crooked smile grows more uneven.

I hate it. I fucking hate it.

The book closed with a loud slap, the light gust of wind kissing your hot, fuming cheeks.

You blinked, your bottom lashes clinging desperately to tears that rolled down your cheeks. Slowly, you exhaled a deep, pained breath through your nose, feeling your throat too constricted to release any air.

You thought Simon was a man who would never hurt you in any way, and yet this entire time, he's kept all of this locked away, hidden from you.

Did you think of him wrong this entire time? You really didn't want to think that.

Rising from your seat, you ripped his coat from your shoulders, keeping the book clutched tightly in one hand.

He thought you wore a mask. A mental one, one that kept you more secure than the cloth over your face, but you didn't.

Not only did he read you like an opened book, he also read through you again and again. He highlighted your crucial features, circled your flaws in bright red ink, and annotated your worst attributes that made you what you were now.

But he was wrong. For once, he was downright wrong.

You were you. You were just as you were before, you're just as the woman you are now. What gives him the right to think you weren't what you said to yourself you are, what you present yourself to be?

Opening back towards the damp pages once more, you pinched the edges close to the center before yanking hard, hearing the screeching submission of the paper's fibers from your fingertips.

There were more words, back-to-back on these pages. Every piece of paper that was even damp you ripped out, immediately tossing the journal towards the ground once you gathered a disrespectfully large handful of papers in your clutched fists.

You weren't sure what to think, what to feel. You were shocked, confused, overwhelmed, humiliated.

Angry.

Angry, disturbed, and afraid.

“Did ya miss your beauty sleep, lass?” Soap nudged your shoulder, watching your head raise, breaking your attention from the boots of the marine that sat in front of you.

"Couldn't sleep at all.” You muttered, looking down at your gloved hands settling over your pockets, refraining the urge to peel off the coverings to get to your nails.

After a certain amount of time, you've let your nails start to grow back, though unfortunately, you've taken to picking at the skin around your nailbeds with your fingers or teeth before you joined Soap with the marines.

The trucks came to a stop out towards the landing zone, the air stirring to life from the whirring plane propellers. You've been nervous before, this was nothing new, but the last thing you needed right now was to see the Lieutenant. Every organ in your ribcage burned with the dreading anticipation as you jumped off the truck right after Soap, keeping your rifle secured in your hands.

"Marines are loading in now. You and the Sergeants are leading the way on this."

“The Sergeants?” Ghost spoke up in question.

“Sergeant Mirage and Soap Mactavish.”

He was a little surprised as he came to a stop, watching the ever so familiar Seargent quickly approach him with their female companion in tow. He didn’t know you’d be coming with, why didn't you tell him? This unexpected surprise left him feeling rather uneasy.

“Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, Lt? Save you a seat, sir.” Soap punched his arm, quickly turning around to leave, patting your shoulder to join him as he walked past you.

You glared at Ghost from your respectable distance, watching his eyes meet yours. Those dark, gorgeous eyes of his, though this time, you didn’t feel quite happy looking into them.

There was an emotion screaming through your irises that words couldn't explain, fueled by an unbridled amount of conflicted rage, screeching as they beat against the jail cell doors, the rusted bars painted with the color of your eyes.

Ghost has seen it before, he’s seen it on your face quite often when you didn't realize.

Denial. An emotion he knew very, very well. He didn't like the feeling it gave him the longer you stared.

"Mirage! Hurry up, or you'll be sittin' on the ground!" Hearing Soap's call through the chatter of the marines was more than the signal you needed to turn away, taking off in a sprint towards the aircraft.

"Fucking hell."

"Ghost-you copy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Any issues?"

"Negative, Sir. Out here."

"Second missile!!"

The scurrying of feet rushing along uneven, rocky terrain was further amplified by potent waves of adrenaline coursing through every soldier's veins, all eyes locked upon the sight of the plane they unloaded from moments before swirling wildly in the sky, its tail catching bright flames where it was struck.

Everyone was silent the moment the body of the bird came in contact with the ground, the piercing clash of solid metal against harsh rocky terrain traveling fast through the wind. Bright bursts of light erupted outwards, clouds of smoke quickly shielding its view from anyone and everyone who witnessed.

"Alpha, what's your status?!" Ghost hurriedly spoke through his radio the moment his connections from the pilot were severed.

Rigorous coughing broke through on the other end, followed by echoes of gunfire from the enemies who were stationed at the buildings they were tasked to head towards.

After receiving no answer, he immediately clicked his radio buttons again, feeling his heart dreadfully pounding hard in his ears.

"Mirage, how copy?? What's your status?!"

Nothing responded back to him, making the ache in his chest dreadfully worse.

Mentally cursing, he tried again. "Alpha, how copy?!"

"Bravo-" The Corporal's voice broke through the system. "Alpha is immobile. Multiple critical! Oh shit- we're taking effective fire!"

"Alpha, we're movin' to building one. Hold tight!"

"Ghost," Soap quickly intervened the second he could, unable to bare that those survivors, that you, hopefully being one of the survivors, were in the stark center of all the crossfire. "We need to secure the crash site now!"

Ghost instantly knew it was a mistake to let you stay behind with Alpha team. A terrible, dreadful mistake. Why the fuck did you not tell him that you were assigned on the mission?! He would've never left you with Alpha team on the aircraft in the first place, despite your insistence. He was as furious as he was terrified. 

Despite that defying urge to race on towards the crash, he had to think logically for the sake of his team. Any wrong given order would get everyone killed.

"First, we clear for Hassan, that takes the heat off Alpha. Then we secure the crash site. Clear?"

"Roger that!"

A painful ringing erupted in your ears, shooting straight down straight towards your spine, crawling through every nerve under your skin.

The shrill, piercing reign of bullets against steel didn't help with the shrill ringing, multiple gunfire coming from all directions where the plane landed, ruining your mind with overwhelming noises to create any logical thought.

A potent smoke clouded through the air, stinging your lungs as you tried to breathe.

"Mirage, how copy?? What's your status?!" You heard Ghost's voice through your earpiece, but you couldn't move your hands to answer. You coughed again, struggling to move your arms, feeling a hard pressure against your body.

Finally, you opened your eyes, finding yourself staring up at the plane's roof from a strange angle. Moving your head slowly, you grew quickly relieved you could, as well as your fingers and toes when you tried. Craning your head, you realized the reason for the harsh pressure on your body.

A dead body of a marine was over you, bringing an uncomfortable weight on your chest. Inhaling hard with limited, tainted air, you braced your hands along his torso, wiggling part of yourself out from under him while shoving.

Finally getting free, you rose up onto your knees, taking in your surroundings.

If it wasn't all that obvious, the plane crashed. Each window had been broken from impact, the shuttle door long since broken. Another marine laid slouched by the exit, another member of Alpha team.

"Sargeant!" A raspy voice called to you, the Alpha team's leader quickly grabbing your attention. "Good to see you still alive!"

"You too, Corporal!" Grabbing hold of your rifle, you maneuvered yourself over closer towards the cockpit, discovering him kneeled beside another living marine, his thigh pinned down by a large hunk of broken metal, rendering him immobile. "Anyone else alive?"

"No, it's just us out here. Bravo's working on relieving us from-"

A sharp explosion rattled the roof of the plane, shaking the ground underneath all of you. The pinned marine shouted out in agony, the intense vibrations wreaking havoc on his wounded leg.

"Shit! Stay low, we're getting heavy fire from all directions!" The Corporal quickly rose from the ground, approaching the closest window while reaching for his radio. "Bravo- crash site is taking RPGs from building two, second deck!"

"Alpha, takin' building two now. Hold fast!"

Another rocket collided against the aircraft, making you wince again from the harsh contact and ring.

"Help's coming, but we still gotta fight! Stay low with Burr!"

You were left no choice, checking to make sure your weapon was still properly loaded before holding position.

Sooner than you expected, the gunfire slowly diminished. No further rockets hit the plane, the last remaining gunfire belonging to one of Bravo team's members killing the last of the A.Q.s, bathing the night in an uneasy silence.

"Alpha 0-2, Bravo 0-7, Building two secure. We're comin' to you."

"Sargeant," The Private's hand clutched your forearm, almost catching you off guard. "Help me." He grunted, his face looking sickly and pale, his forehead drenched in sweat.

"I got you," Setting your gun to the side, you scooted yourself closer, adjusting your hands to get a proper hold of the metal.

"Alpha copies all!" The Corporal quickly exclaimed while taking position beside you, helping you take hold of the bars keeping the soldier pinned. You struggled against the harsh weight, even with the addition of the Corporal's strength, the metal simply wouldn't budge.

"Blue! Blue!"

Your head turned at the announcement, quickly hearing the heavy footsteps of Ghost and Soap rushing inside.

"What took you so fucking long, Lieutenant?!" You stated, hearing the Corporal chuckle beside you at your assumably relieved comment.

"Damn good to see you guys!" DeFields states, "We got five KIA, two wounded. It's just both our guns, and we're low on ammo."

"One wounded," You corrected, "If I can still walk, I can still fight."

"Those are the rules," He nodded in agreement, quickly bringing his attention back to pinned Private. "Help us move him."

"No time." Ghost retorted, throwing you even more off guard once again. "They're here. Everyone, get your guns on that tree line."

Hesitantly, you finally rose from the ground, immediately holding back a wince from a sharp, irritating pain in your leg. At first, it felt like your leg had fallen asleep, but you pushed through as you moved closer towards an open window.

"You see anything?" DeFields questioned.

"Got movement," Your Lieutenant replied, keeping his attention focused on the fiery terrain ahead, framing the view of the trees, hiding unknown enemies that were staring back at them.

"If you have a shot, take it." Ghost ordered all of you, hearing you exhale as you focused.

Don't talk to me while I'm shooting someone, you wanted to bark those words at him so badly, but you couldn't. For now, it was just the five of you inside a plane crash in the middle of short fields, the last thing you needed was your emotions clouding your judgement at this time.

Regardless of how much you wanted to shoot him.

Call that violent, or cruel, you didn't care. You were in the middle of a damn plane crash right now. Anything was possible.

A piercing bullet seared through the air, creating a sharp ringing in your ears as it struck the chest of one of the nearby soldiers to your right, sending him down towards the ground.

"Fuck! Man down!" Bravo 7-2 announced almost instantly.

"A.Q. sniper on the roof! Get down!"

Every member of Bravo team dropped instantly to the ground, flattening their bodies against the harsh, jagged rocks and itchy, piercing grass for limited cover.

"Mirage, take out the shooter! Rest o' ya stay low until we're all clear!"

You looked through your scope before the man even commanded, using the aid of your night vision goggles to see what you were aiming at towards the building you were tasked to head towards across the field.

You pulled the trigger with an exhale of breath, watching the head of your target almost flick off its body once he was shot.

"Sniper down!" You announced, hearing the grass rustling as your teammates proceeded to crawl ahead, using what long strands of grass and other types of plants for cover.

"Who's hit??"

"7-5 is down!"

"There's more snipers on the roof!" You quickly yelled out, hearing more bullets fired towards the direction of your squad right after your announcement.

"Soap, Mirage! Keep us covered, we're movin' up!"

"How the fuck are they seeing us?" You heard DeFields exclaim, trying to settle your hold as you aimed at a sniper through an opened window, taking your shot before he could.

"They've got night vision! We're not gonna make it if we stay out here any longer!" You fired again, striking the sniper closest to the satellite tower after hearing a bullet fire dangerously close to your cover position.

"AQ's dug in here- whatever they're defending its fuckin' big!" Soap fired at another sniper peering down from the top of the first floor, though more snipers came despite the amount the both of you took out combined.

"We're not getting through here without air support!"

"7-6, I want fire on that building now!" Ghost ordered.

"Ghost, we don't know if Hassan's in there!" Soap exclaimed in a sharp yell. quickly reloading the chance that he could.

"They're forcin' our hand! 7-6, hit that building, but don't level it!"

Bravo 7-6 quickly delivered his orders, just as when you started running low on ammo. Soap quickly took over when you needed to reload, hearing another shot fire dangerously close to another one of your teammates.

"Force up to that wall! Move!" Ghost ordered everyone, giving you an excuse to get off the ground, joining as fast as you could with your team to race ahead, just in time to hear the propellors of Kilo heading towards the building. Loud gunfire roared throughout the skies, the whirring propellors drowned by large explosions as multiple rockets shot towards the building, crumbling some of the weak, weathered walls upon impact.

"What a glorious sight." Ghost commented, hearing your exhale as you drew close, slightly out of breath from all the excitement.

"God, I hope Hassan was on the top floor." You watched a missile strike the roof of the building, hearing the ear scratching screech of the satellite tower's steel give away from the pressure, its foundation falling apart as it gave in on itself. 

"Thank Christ for air support." Soap exclaimed from beside you.

"Yeah, hope Hassan's still in one piece."

"Several pieces'll do. Easier to find that way." Ghost muttered underneath his breath, proceeding to hoist himself over the crudely built stone wall.

"All Bravo, move up. I want this building locked down."

Kilo had definitely made a mark or two on the. A potent cloud of dust fanned outwards, revealing the damaged, brick or cinderblock walls of what was once a sturdy building, quickly reduced to a mere frame and piles of dust.

All Bravo team was tasked to enter the house, Soap quickly being assigned to make the first entry. A frantic pair of footsteps erupted from the hallway, a man shouting towards Soap with a death cry. A loud explosion erupted as soon as he fired at the suicide bomber, sending a cascade of dust and viscera coating the walls.

"Check the bodies. We need positive ID on Hassan."

Treading through the hallways, your boots crunching among debris, bullet casings and dead bodies, the air reeking of fire and gun powder.

A few lingering dazed or wounded stragglers that remained were quickly shot down by your teammates. Those who were conscious enough to fight back tried to behind very limited cover, or clever little hiding spots. Regardless of what they did, they were killed off by either you or your teammates, announcing their deaths the moment their bodies hit the ground.

You were mindful treading up the stairs to the second floor behind Soap, refraining from wincing with every step you took due to your strained, bruised leg.

A loud rustling came from behind a closed door on the second floor, Ghost halting his footsteps. The door slowly opened, the head of a surviving A.Q. peeking through. Ghost immediately pried open the door, grabbing the soldier by his arms, pressing him back against the wall. Reaching for his pistol, he fired one shot towards his chest, the second hitting him straight between the eyes. 

Ghost let the body slump to the ground, proceeding ahead into the room with Soap and the rest of you in tow. The room echoed with Hassan's voice playing through a laptop via a prerecorded broadcast. After watching both men execute the remaining A.Q.s in the room, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the second floor was finally cleared, but no sign of Hassan whatsoever.

"He was here. This is a bloody ops center." You heard Ghost speak from where you were outside the room they entered, the man quickly ordering Soap to look around for evidence on his claim.

"Look. Hassan's uniform." You treaded into the room just as Soap gestured towards an army green coat draped over a dust kissed office chair. "So he was here."

"Lost him when we secured the crash site." Ghost commented, making the Seargent turn to face him, Seeing Ghost's eyes shift from the coat towards the visible night through the doorway towards his left.

"Are you sayin' we shouldn't have helped?" Soap questioned, watching Ghost focus his gaze on the man.

His eyes flickered towards you, watching you stare at him from your stance in the doorway, waiting for an answer. Just one look at your semi-covered face made his eyes narrow, reminding him of just how frustrated he was that you refused to tell him you would be joining in on this mission.

Again, you didn’t think, which led you taking this risk, without thinking of the end results of your actions. Again, you almost died under his watch, and he wasn’t too happy over it.

It was more than enough to make a bitter taste erupt on his tongue, speaking on behalf of his own anger.

“Choices have consequences.”

There it was again, those large, invisible hands gripping the inner chambers of your heart before prying the muscle apart from the inside, severing all blood flow before getting crushed underneath fury’s dirty, reckless boot.

You son of a bitch. You glared at him back, your eyes narrowing further towards him, even when he looked away from you.

"All Bravo- we got movement out here."

“On the way.”

He walked towards the exit, watching you step aside to let him pass, glaring at the back of his head as he took the path leading towards the stairs. This bastard, who does he think he is?

Even Soap was in shock, wide eyed in utter surprise. This cruel, cold man in front of him moments ago admitted to heading towards Hassan, even at the expense of the team still in the crash.

Whatever it took to get the mission done, right?

It left you feeling expendable. It made every word he had written in that damn journal hurt; Painfully, ridiculously, agonizingly, hurt, amplifying the definition of every written sentence.

You couldn’t help your facial muscles giving away towards grief as you turned away from Soap, your hidden lips struggling from quivering and keeping a stern composure. You sniffled once, blaming it on the dust, blinking your eyes hard underneath your night vision goggles to blink away any oncoming tears.

No. You weren’t going to let this break you, not now. You were better than that. So, you forced yourself to channel the next best emotion you were better at handling: Anger.

Desperate for a distraction, you turned your attention towards heading back downstairs, leaving the building to join up with Bravo team outside.

"If Hassan's gone, then what the hell are they still protecting?" Soap questioned as he rushed down right behind you.

"Maybe we didn't look hard enough, maybe he's one of these goddamn bodies laying around here." You met up with the rest outside, all being led by Ghost heading towards a large, industrial looking building nearby.

"What we got?"

"A warehouse. Roll up door's open. Heard somethin' inside."

"Copy. Let's clear it."

Upon Ghost's orders, soldiers slowly ducked underneath the gate, entering into the dark warehouse.

The lights abruptly flashed on before you managed to take a few steps in, blinding you through your night vision goggles. The A.Q soldiers that hid inside quickly jumped out from their covers, firing towards you and your team.

You barely managed to run and slide down towards cover behind a large forklift by the warehouse wall, flicking your goggles off to adjust your eyes to the bright lights.

"Stay down!" You heard Soap shout at the rest of the men, witnessing bullets graze dangerously close to your cover. With your rifle now out of ammo, you had to switch towards your pistol, peering over from your cover to fire at the soldiers you could see.

The A.Q.s shouted obscenities towards all of you, taking towards getting to the second-floor control center to reach a better angle at firing towards you and Bravo team.

You heard a quick, cut off cry from DeFields and another soldier from Bravo team as bullets pierced their helmets from the disadvantage of their short cover, catching a glimpse of their bodies crumpling to the floor, large bullets embedded into their skulls. With each fire you shot after that, an additional wave of adrenaline coursed through you to further fuel the wave of violence, growing angrier for their deaths as well as your intense hatred towards the A.Q.s. 

The gunfire died down as the last enemy was shot dead by Soap, watching the soldier crumple from the top of the stairs from the loft control room floor up top, overseeing the warehouse.

You rose out from your cover, panting as you tried getting your nerves to settle, clutching your pistol close to you.

"This warehouse wasn't on the intel." Ghost glanced around the room after scouting head, stepping over the bodies of A.Q.s.

Soap approached a large blue shipping crate out of utter curiousity, pulling the door open to have a peek at what was hiding inside.

"What the fuck is this?" He exhaled, stepping inside to have a better look. His curiosity caught Ghost's attention, the man quickly following suit, leaving you to watch both men examine the bright screened technology inside.

"It's all in English!" Ghost was quickly surprised by the sight, watching Soap reach for a bright red lever, pulling it upwards.

"Oh shit." You exhaled under your breath, your head raising as you saw movement from the top of the shipping container, slowly stepping over towards the left as both men walked out to see the sight.

"Steamin' Jesus." The Scotsman exhaled in alarm, joining in on your conflicted awe as a thick cannon rose from the top, extending outwards at an angle towards the roof of the warehouse.

"Ballistic missiles." Ghost immediately recognized it, recalling when he had to oversee one of these in action to assassinate the ambassador three months ago.

"It's a mobile launcher." Soap couldn't believe his eyes, glancing over at you as you craned your head, holstering your pistol as you proceeded to walk towards the left side of the crate, managing to catch notice of your limping.

"These'll go a thousand miles." 7-6 spoke up, sharing into the shock with the rest of the team.

"At least." Ghost retorted, catching sight of Soap quickly following in your path.

"How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?" He scame to a stop at the sight of you standing on top of large, army green shipping crates, your wide eyes making out something he couldn't, a bright, cherry red light flashing over your limited facial features.

“Holy fuck,” You breathed, quickly looking over your shoulder towards the man down below. “John, quick. Look.”

He proceeded to climb up on the crates, watching you step aside to give him some room. You gestured your head to what you were staring at, watching complete, utter shock stretch across the entirety of his face.

"No fuckin' way." He breathed out, quickly turning his head towards the familiar sight of his Lieutenant from the corner of his eye. "Ghost, take a look at this."

He stepped down the crate, leaving you standing at the top as you kept to the side, watching Ghost's head tilt up to stare at the black, bold painted American flag on the side of the missile launcher.

His eyes were as wide as you expected them to get, filled with the same amount of shock and utter surprise that Soap felt, that everyone felt, not even attempting to tap into your own personal amount of bafflement for comparison.

"Ghost, do you have Hassan?" Laswell called to the Lieutenant, not enjoying the utter silence that followed after his last comment.

"Negative. we found a weapons cache. Hassan's got missiles," He announces towards his radio. "They're American."

"0-7, this is Gold Eagle Actual, repeat your last." The indescribable voice of the General spoke up through comms.

"I say again- Hassan has American missiles."

The silence that followed was almost deafening, bathing the warehouse in thick, pure dread at this mindboggling discovery.

No one really knew what to believe or do, the radio going completely silent on the other end for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

The suspense grew more intense and awkward as Ghost made eye contact with you, adding an additional wave of intensity on both of your shoulders without realizing. Glaring at you for a little longer, he turned his head and walked away, heading back towards the front of the shipping crate with the remainder of Bravo team.

Soap peered back up at you, watching you scoff and turn your head away from Ghost's direction, glancing back up at the missile launcher.

"Hey, you alright?" He spoke up, watching you head turn over to acknowledge him silently.

“Listen, about what he said-“

“Don't.” You whispered while tugging your mask down slowly, glaring at the Scottish man in front of you. He stared at your sweat clad face, your facial expressions matching the emotion written in your eyes. Exhaustion. The kind of exhaustion that killed any other type of emotion, leaving you with nothing else to feel.

At least, that's what he saw.

His brows rose, realizing what the Lieutenant said really, really bugged you.

“Look, I just... I’d say don’t take it to heart, but…" He glanced off towards the side, giving a weak exhale. "Shit, I don’t know what to tell ya.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” You shook your head, glaring over at the direction of the skull clad man. “There’s nothing to say. It's Ghost, John. What else would you expect from him?”

“Try not to let it get to ya, lass. This whole mission is fuckin’ bonkers right now. Hassan ain’t here, an’ now AQ’s dealin’ with fucking American missiles. He’ll say some nasty shit, but he’s the Lieutenant. He barks orders, an' we just have to follow, alright?”

"Right." You nodded once, your face lacking any emotion at the moment.

“Gold Eagle Actual to Ghost- Move your team and call for fire, I want those weapons destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” You questioned, seeing the man shrug while setting his hand against the shipping crate.

“Whatever prevents them from usin' them.”

“Roger that, Actual.” Ghost turned to acknowledge everyone. “Everyone out, now. 7-6, give me an ETA on evac.”

“Y’need help gettin’ down?” Soap watched you slowly kneel down on the crate, exhaling from the momentary relief of being off your feet.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks though.”

“Y’sure?”

“Do I look like Cinderella?” You glared at him, watching a smirk start to form on his face.

“Can’t hurt to accept a little help though, Princess.” You almost snorted, glaring down at the Scottish man's outstretched hand. “Call me Princess again, you’re getting my glass slipper up your ass.”

“Just take my hand, kid. Let's get outta here."

Your palm met his as he helped you down, allowing you to squeeze his hand when the pain of being on your feet again made you fully wince. You'll be fine though, you've dealt with much, much worse.

You glared at Ghost when he wasn’t looking while exiting the warehouse, feeling conflicted over everything that’s happened tonight, a stark contrast over what happened earlier today.

Your worries were confirmed in your head that very instant, your gaze hardening in a matter of seconds.

You hated to admit it, but in the moment, you would’ve gladly pushed Ghost into the building as it was destroyed. You had half a mind to rip the sledgehammer from his pack and strike him with it.

How dare he. That's all you could think. How dare he not believe the woman that you are, the woman you claimed yourself to be, the woman you turned into.

How dare he.

Whatever "mask" he thinks you're wearing, whatever metaphorical cover he believed you had to trick your friends, to trick him, it was well off by now.

The bright light cutting through the stark darkness made you wince, squinting your eyes just a bit as the aircraft flooded with a warm, soothing breeze from the outside.

The first sight you were gifted as the cargo doors opened was a tall man standing with his arms behind his back, dressed in a black long sleeve and khakis, adorning a thick, tactical vest.

The outside of the plane bustled with life the moment you stepped off first, anxious to get out of such a confined space after being in it for a few hours. The warm sit bathed your skin in sharp, yet comforting light, the breeze flowing along your hair. Loud footsteps followed shortly behind you, the tall Lieutenant looking both ways the second he stepped onto solid ground, keeping aware of his new surroundings.

Soap was the first to meet up with the Colonel, calling him by name before extending a friendly hand.

"Seargent Mactavish." The Colonel, Alejandro Vargas, accepted the gesture, joining the man in a firm handshake.

"Call me Soap." Soap smiled, watching Alejandro nod before turning his attention towards you, who settled by Soap's right side.

” Seargent L/n. Which would you prefer I call you? Mirage, or Espejismo?” Your code name rolled off his tongue with his naturally rich accent, making your lip curl a bit at the sincerity he displayed for you instantly.

“Whatever’s easier, thank you.” You nodded with a small, hidden smile.

He nodded in return, glancing over to look Ghost firmly in the eye, bringing his hands behind his back once more.

"Lieutenant. Laswell says they call you Ghost."

"Actually," Soap was quick to intervene. "I believe he prefers to be-"

"That'll do." Ghost retorted in a firm tone, making Soap minorly purse his lips from the pause. It made your shoulders raise in minor amusement, refraining yourself from rolling your eyes.

Alejandro, minorly amused or not, simply nodded along, gesturing his head towards the vehicles behind him.

"Welcome to the 'City of Souls.'”

From there, he proceeded to take the lead, the three of you following behind.

"I've never been to Mexico," Soap stated, making Alejandro's lip slightly curl.

"This isn't Mexico," He extended his arms out a bit to gesture towards the space around him. "This is Las Almas."

"Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce. They're bringin' hardware, they'll need room." Ghost began stating, seeing Alejandro turn his head in acknowledgement.

"My base is your base."

"Good. Now, where's Hassan?"

"Cartel safe-house, ten clicks from here." He abruptly stopped, noticing a quick problem before turning to face the small group.

“They’re all four seaters, sorry to say, but one of you will have to ride in another vehicle and follow behind."

“I will,” you volunteered instantly, seeing all men turn their heads to acknowledge you.

“No, it’s alright. You stay with Ghost, I’ll go in the other car.” Soap quickly insisted, despite you raising your hand and shaking your head.

"I'll be fine. Really. I don't want Ghost talking my ear off on the way like last time, so he's your problem now." A heavily obvious joke, turning away before you heard any further complaints from Soap, disappearing behind the back of the first vehicle to head towards the backseat door on the far-left side of the next vehicle.

You were moments away from pulling open the door at least halfway before a hand pressed against its surface, slamming the door shut. The all too familiar size and detail of the glove made you frown instantly.

“The fuck do you think you’re doin, Mirage?” His voice sneered down at you, watching your hand tighten on the door handle before letting go.

You turned to face him, glaring at him with every ounce of pure annoyance you kept saved in your body from the entire trip.

“If you think I’m going to be stuck in another cramped place with you for God knows how long, think again." You sneered at him, not wanting to deal with anything he had to say.

The hell did he want you to do? Sit in his lap? Crawl into the goddamn trunk? That obviously wasn't going to work. If this was the only chance you'd get a bit of distance put between you two, you were going to take it.

Ghost said nothing, even though there was nothing he could really say. Especially out here on this foreign base, in front of many soldiers he didn't know. For all he knew right now, Alejandro and Soap were immediately concerned the moment he took off right after you.

"Ghost." The voice of Soap made his head turn, spotting the Scotsman standing a short distance behind him, his eyes focused on how close he was to you.

"Alejandro says we're leavin', let's go." His voice was calm, yet firm. Authorative enough to get the point across to drop whatever the hell was going on.

Again, there was nothing Ghost could do. He had to respect your choice for distance, for now at least.

“Just… keep your radio on.” Ghost muttered to you before lowering his hand, watching your gaze drop before nodding.

“Copy.” You turned away, hearing Ghost step away from you before disappearing to get inside the vehicle. Soap mouthed to you if you were alright, waiting for your head to nod before taking his seat once Ghost shut his own door.

“Señora.” A hand stretched out, catching you off guard as a tall, tactical gear clad man proceeding to open your door for you on his trip towards the driver's door.

You nodded in thanks before getting in, hearing the sharp whistle and commands of Alejandro calling all his men to round up to leave, frantic words trading down the line as the rest of the vehicles filled up, various engines whirring to life in quick, semi-unison.