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

My Blood is Singing with Your Voice

Ghost woke a few hours later. The sun was rising, maybe, the light through the singular window in the small kitchen dark gray instead of dark black. The pain in his side was hot, stinging, and his mouth and throat were uncomfortably dry. In fact, all of him was. It was the thirst, hunger that dried him up from the inside. He pressed his hand over the clean stitches Soap had given him, the pressure forcing a wave of pain through his side and distracting him, grounding him. He would be fine, he still had some time. Regular food might help but he was afraid to ask how much they had left.

He still had his mask on, which did something to him, made him frown. He was seriously injured, Soap had cut his clothes off of him, but left his face covered. He cracked his eyes, taking in a room he barely remembered. It was warm, the ground was hard, and he was alone. He opened his eyes in earnest then, searching for his companion. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, even lying down, and it kept him from moving, raising up to look around. He closed his eyes again instead and listened. Someone was outside the door, walking around in the snow. Their heartbeat was normal and steady. Familiar.

Quietly, Soap pushed the busted door open and stepped back inside, his arms full of firewood. He wasn't sure it was dry or useable but he was determined to find out, and to dry it out himself if he had to. He slipped his wet boots off by the door and went to lay the wood down by the fireplace. He had already used a pot he'd found in a kitchen cabinet and the hook inside the fireplace to boil additional water. When he turned back around, he noticed Simon's open eyes, watching him.

"Ghost." He said by way of greeting, dusting off his hands. If it was a knee-shaking relief to see the Lieutenant awake, he didn't let it show.

He knelt, pulling back the blanket and checking the bandages over Simon's wounds. He didn't seem to have a fever yet, which was good, but it was still early. There hadn't been a lot of additional bleeding since last he checked so he decided to leave them covered.

Simon swallowed, looking for enough moisture on his tongue to speak. He was too hot, he wanted his face uncovered so he could breathe. "You left the mask."

His voice was rough. Soap looked at him blankly for a moment. There hadn't been a question in his mind, moving it only to take back the glove he hadn't needed after passing out. His wide eyes were earnest, Ghost was confused by them, until they went back to their usual serious gaze and looked away.

"I respect you. Of course I left it." He looked intently at what he was doing instead of Ghost's face, pulling the blanket back over him.

Ghost pulled the mask off himself, holding his breath against the pain in his shoulder. "It's hot."

The complaint, the only one Soap had heard out of him, drew his eyes again.

"Here." He reached for it, folding it carefully.

He had seen Simon's face before, a choice few times. The man was a mystery, even uncovered, but certainly not hard to look at. His strong jaw and roman nose accented his scarred skin, overly pale from lack of sun. And lack of blood.

"You should rest. We're fine."

Simon let his brown eyes drift closed again. "Have you called for Price?"

Soap stood. "Tried."

Simon's stomach dropped. He knew they weren't safe, Price had asked him to protect Mactavish if something like this happened, but he was stuck on the floor, literally burning from the inside out and unable to do anything at all.

"They'll find us here."

Soap was on his knees to stoke the fire. He knew Simon didn't mean their rescue. He meant the same men that had come for them the night before.