Pattern Breaker

Can You Burn This Moment In To The Retina of My Eye?

The stars, hardly visible in the sky, slowly disappeared as the sun took its time drifting over the horizon. It felt nice outside, at least for now. A little too humid.

"You're smoking now? That's a nasty habit, L.t." Johnny said, wrinkling his nose. "Makes you smell bad."

Simon stared at him in response, taking another drag off his cigarette. He had smoked on and off his entire life. A nasty habit, sure. But he preferred it over the withdrawal-shakes when he quit binge drinking just to start back up again a few months later. His mask was only rolled up enough to expose his lips, but the light breeze in the slowly warming morning air still made him feel uncomfortable.

"You feeling shy today?" He pressed, stroking the underside of Simon's bare jaw.

"Can't smoke with the mask on. Don't want it off all the way." Simon said, flicking the cigarette to the ground, and scuffing it out with the toe of his boot. He leaned away from Johnny's touch, yanking his balaclava back down.

"C'mon... Take it off." Johnny walked even closer, backing Simon against the wall. He leaned forward, gently running his nose along the length of Simon's clothed neck. Inhaling.

"Why?" He whispered, flinching when the shards of glass and metal now sticking out of Johnny's face dug into his own flesh.

"Because, I want to see the look on your pretty face while you watch me die."

—

Alejandro studied Ghost from across the aircraft. He was surprised to see him there, honestly, after Price had told them how their conversation went the night before, and wasn't confident he would show up. But he was the first one there, leaning against the outside wall of the hangar with a cigarette hanging loosely out of his mouth. Shellshocked.

Having a conversation with someone that wasn't there.

Alejandro had seen that particular look in Ghost's eyes a thousand times in his past, from a thousand different people. From himself. It was an unfortunate, but inevitable side effect of war. And loss.

It was never this bad before, though. This wasn't just simply a post-traumatic response.

He, much like Gaz, had been hearing Ghost on the nights he slept. It was awful, the screaming. Hearing him cry for Soap as he thrashed around helpless from night terrors. " Please, no, Johnny, please no! " It was incessant. Alejandro felt guilty for the relief he felt during the times Ghost disappeared doing whatever he was, exacting revenge on whoever he was. Those were the only times it was quiet.

The aircraft rumbled under his feet as he walked over to Ghost, sitting next to him. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Alejandro considering his words before speaking. He wasn't sure what he could say to the man to make the situation any better. If there was anything to make it any better. But he had grown to care deeply about him– and Soap– both fearless and unstoppable forces that had proved they would fight to the very end for each other. Until the bitter end.

Taking a deep breath, Alejandro sighed, resting his arms on his knees– hands hanging loosely between his legs.

"When I was eighteen" He began, picking his words carefully, "Me, Rododlfo, and a childhood friend of ours enlisted in the military. A few years later, we were recruited into the Mexican Special Forces, and we were so excited. Nervous, of course." He laughed dryly. "But we had a chance to make a difference, you know? We had all grown up in Las Almas, and we saw every day how it was being destroyed from the inside. We wanted a safe place to raise our kids. To have a family. One day, we conducted a raid on the son of the leader of the Las Almas cartel. His name was La Araña. The Spider.