Howl [COD Simon Ghost Riley & John Soap Mactavish AU]

Making to Attack

Ghost had known how close the soldiers were getting, that they were like animals, predators, they weren't going to stop. He didn't have time to focus on how they'd gotten caught, he only had time to turn and block the one man's shot at Soap's back. Gladly. Soap had plenty to put back into the world, if Ghost could keep him alive then he had done his duty, he could rest.

But it hadn't happened quite like he planned. In the darkness, the man didn't land a deadly hit. Soap did, though, and came to help him. He hadn't wanted the aid prior to, but once Soap was there, Simon suddenly regretted his decision. He'd been ready to die for years and years but there were things unsaid. Maybe he should have told Soap his secret when he thought of it before. He had a deep, distinct fear of taking it to the grave.

They weren't as far from camp as Soap had thought. Seems they ran a half circle around it instead of straight off into the forest. He tried not to think about how they were about to be lost, completely lost on purpose, and they needed to fucking hurry because the storm they'd been outrunning had found them.

He'd slowly gotten Ghost up, taking pressure off his chest and keeping him awake, guiding him to keep his hand pressed firmly over his wound. Ghost was quiet, almost disturbingly so, letting Soap half drag him back against a tree. Soap was focused on their survival, edging out any need for fear. He stayed alert, making sure they remained alone, but his total focus was on small steps, one checkmark after the next.

Find their things.

Get Ghost's bleeding slowed down.

Find shelter before they couldn't tell down from up in the coming blizzard.

Call for backup.

The flight in had been a few hours. He refused to entertain the possibility that they couldn't get a call out or that they would be unfindable. He had to believe that they could get Ghost out of the snow and get him some aid.

He was away from the Lieutenant for less than five minutes, counting every second and every footfall. In that time, he let himself feel some anger. They had been sent out there essentially alone. He trusted Ghost and he trusted Price and he trusted himself but this had gone left too easily. Maybe they should have scouted better, waited before going in. Maybe he shouldn't be in a line of work where people he cared about were suffering and dying to prevent some kind of danger, future danger they knew nothing of yet.

He gathered the food they had, the first aid kits, ammo, and then he went back to where he had left Ghost. Absolutely disturbing, the man was still sitting where Soap had left him, staring off into space. He looked dead, Soap thought, his own breathing halting in his throat for a second before Ghost turned his eyes toward the Sergeant. His heart seemed to start again with such force that it made his hands shake. They could get out of this together, but if he had to leave Ghost's body somewhere, try and survive on his own....no. He wouldn't. He wasn't going to leave Simon anywhere, certainly not in this frozen hell. He would stick beside him, take him home, or die trying.

He approached Ghost, who didn't speak, just watched him. Soap knelt beside him. He was also extremely aware that the group that had attacked them was likely just a first wave. Maybe the storm would offer them some cover to get out, but they couldn't count on having a lot of time. His plan was to get to the truck and get as far as they could back toward base before the fresh snow made it impossible. He could temporarily stop the bleeding in all three wounds. Whether it would be enough for Ghost to survive the blood loss already suffered would be a question for them to ask later.

Ghost felt like he sat there for no time at all. In fact, when he heard Johnny's feet crunching back toward him through the snow, he thought he was beginning to hallucinate. That's why he didn't look up when he got close, until he heard the man's heart jump up a notch. Then he turned.