Call of Desire

12. Companion

com·pan·ion
/kəmˈpanyən/
noun
a person or animal with whom one spends a lot of time or with whom one travels.

=========================================================

There was only darkness. He was warm and comfortable, his pain finally gone. It felt... similar, but not necessarily the same as when he had died.

John heard a voice, but could not place it. A deep, masculine voice. A gentle, soft voice.

It spoke gingerly to him, as if ensuring him of his safety, consoling him.

Who is that? They seem quite worried...

The voice began sobbing. Anguished, strangled sobbing that sent struck anxiety in John's core. He didn't know why, but he desperately wanted to comfort the person, assure them everything would be alright.

I know that voice... who's voice is that?

He remained confused, listening to the quiet cries echoing around him. MacTavish focused, trying to decipher a few words...

That voice is so familiar... who is that?

That voice...

That's Ghost!

The Scotsman tried to force himself into consciousness, but he failed, listening to Simon's muffled cries.

I'm right here, Ghost... It's alright. I'm okay!

Ghost muttered something about love and hate... Soap couldn't quite understand.

Am I okay?

...

Ghost?

"Don't leave me alone here, Johnny." The words reverberated through him. "I need you."

...

You... you need me?

Everything remained silent for several moments.

In one of these moments.... he began to feel.

He felt the subtle throbbing of his hip and arm.

The cold air on his skin.

Simon's hand on his.

Simon was... holding his hand. He was shakily caressing John's hand with his thumb.

"I'm not leaving until you wake up." Ghost exhaled, his hands trembling. "I'll die before I leave you again." His voice was low and coarse.

Simon... Have you been crying, my love? I'm here now, I'm okay. I promise, I'm okay. Please don't cry. Don't cry.

"I know you hate being alone..." Ghost laid his head on the edge of the bed. John wanted to speak. He wanted to tell Simon every single thing in his head. Soap heard his companion's breathing eventually even out, little snores leaving him.

Soap used all of his strength to gently squeeze his companion's hand. Ghost hummed in his sleep, softly squeezing back.

John felt a small smile form on his face.

Eventually, he managed to force his eyes open and take in his surroundings.

Ghost had taken his mask off and was asleep on the edge of Soap's bed. He had dark bags under his eyes.

He looks clean, he must've gotten a shower. Has he eaten?

Soap glanced over the heart monitor. Nothing worrying, really. Mostly medical jargon he couldn't understand. His heart rate looked fine, at least. He took comfort in that.

Next to the monitor, there were three, fucking three IV bags feeding something into him. One was labelled antibiotics, fighting the infection raging in his veins. Another was just water, a speedy way of rehydrating a severely dehydrated patient. The final IV bag was nutrients, providing him with what he needed.

MacTavish turned his attention back to Ghost. Asleep beside him, Ghost had never looked more peaceful. He had been worried out of his fucking mind and hadn't been sleeping well, and yet, he looked at peace. At Soap's side, he looked almost relaxed. Or, perhaps he was so exhausted that he didn't have the energy to keep his guard up.

Soap weakly removed his hand from Ghost's grasp, instead gently running his hand through Simon's soft, short, brown hair.

Simon hummed again, moving slightly toward the touch.

John smiled. He desperately wanted to speak to the man, embrace him, and reassure him. But he didn't want to wake the exhausted man.

So there he lay, looking longingly at his closest friend.

There he lay, wishing he was more than just a friend.

=========================================================

Simon hummed again, beginning to wake. Soap silently cursed at himself, he must've moved too quickly.

Ghost slowly opened his eyes, glancing over the Scotsman's body.

"Hey, Johnny." He muttered, closing his eyes again. Soap smiled softly, lovingly gazing over the Brit. "Holy fuck!" Simon yelped, sitting up. "Johnny!" he lunged forward, embracing the injured man.

"Ah fuck... be gentle." Soap groaned, weakly wrapping his arms around Simon, and pulling the oxygen mask off his face.

"Sorry, sorry." Ghost sighed in relief. "I just thought... ah, never mind."

"Thought what?" Soap asked as Ghost released him, keeping his hands on the Scotsman's shoulders.

"Just thought you weren't gonna wake up."

"I heard that bit." John smiled.

Simon's cheeks went bright red. "You heard me?"

"Some of it."

"How much is 'some of it?'"

"Just that you... you said you need me." John reddened, looking away from Ghost.

"I do, Johnny, I really fucking do." Simon embraced him again, hiding his face in Soap's neck. "I really fucking do."

"I'm right here, Lt., I'm not going anywhere." Soap cooed, his shoulder throbbing.

"Scared the fuck out of me, Johnny."

"I'll make it up to you."

"Promise?" Ghost mumbled.

"Mm." The feeling of Simon's arms around him, his chest pressed against him... fuck... I want more of this.

"You feel okay?" Ghost asked, looking at John longingly.

"A bit sore, feeling a bit high from the painkillers, but overall okay."

"Good." Simon exhaled, examining Soap's face. "I missed you."

"I wasn't out for that long, was I?"

"No, no, I just... I was worried."

John smirked. "You fond of me then, Simon?"

"No, of course not." Ghost chuckled, relaxing slightly. I am much more than just fond of you, Johnny.

"I'll get you to admit it one day." Soap smiled crookedly. He hardly ever got to see Simon's face, so he savoured the moment, memorising every single detail. You drive me fucking crazy, Simon.

"I doubt that."

"Doubt it all you like."

"I will." Ghost smiled. I'll admit it one day, my love. I will.