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

The Fabric of Your Flesh

Soap had closed his eyes on impact. He remembered the sound of it, the floating sensation, and then he opened his eyes to fluorescent light and white walls, confused. And alone. And very, very cold. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what led up to it. He'd been in the front seat of the truck he'd driven from base. Simon was driving that time. Simon.

He kept his eyes shut tight, knowing that if he opened them and saw how alone he was, that Simon wasn't there, then he would have to face the reality of it. He knew where he was. It was the same facility Simon had described to him. Where he had been held the last time. Where they had ordered him to leave from and return with Soap.

The wreck was not minor. As Soap lay in the cold with his eyes closed, he could begin to feel the sting and ache of his injuries. He could feel bandages covering a few places on his right arm. It would have been by the window, so probably from broken glass or asphalt. Something was off about his shoulder and he had at least one broken rib. Possibly more. He felt another ache above his right eye and absentmindedly reached for it. His eyes flew open then to watch the restraints pull against his arms.

He looked around, knowing he was being watched and working to keep his shock at a minimum. Simon had put their plan simply, and he hadn't had to go into detail for Soap to know it wouldn't be a pleasant process. He pulled on the restraints again, noting similar ones on his ankles. They weren't budging. He had to find Simon first. Anything else, whatever happened to him, it didn't matter. He had to know Simon was okay. It crossed his mind that this was a plot by the Lieutenant to get him there, like they'd asked. His heart knew it wasn't and truly it didn't matter. He could accept if it was, as long as Simon was okay.

The man he laid beside the night he broke into his hotel room was so important to him. That version of him, no Ghost in sight, it felt so rare and valuable. And giving in to him, letting Simon bite him, letting him be himself without hiding, it was something he didn't want to give up. He put himself back there, caged between Simon's arms, their hearts pressed together, and tried to catch his breath. That was what the man deserved, a safe place to finally rest. The wreck was not minor. They were hit on Simon's side. As old and inhumanly strong as he was, he wasn't indestructible.

Soap didn't fall back asleep, partially because of the cold, partially because he could hear his own racing heart on the monitor beeping beside his head. He wasn't going to panic, not like he had in the closet. I'm going to take you home, Simon had said to him. He wanted that. To go home. To go with Simon. He didn't know if he would ever see him again, or if he could fight his way out. He wouldn't try, not yet. Not with how easily they had seemingly killed all of their other experiments.

He tried to determine how long he'd been there, and if he was drugged. He probably was, considering the IV in his arm. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he was already turned. He thought the prospect would thrill him, but it didn't. It turned his stomach.

A man entered some time later, startling Soap. He was short, dark haired, a beard obscured most of his face but Soap concentrated his icy gaze on the man's small, dark eyes.

"Good to have you with us, Mactavish." He spoke with a German accent and Soap hated the way his family name sounded in his mouth. He never changed his face, acting almost as though the man hadn't spoken at all.

He looked down at a clipboard and back at the shivering Sergeant. "We're going to move you to another room. Something a little more comfortable." Two other men entered. Soap didn't bother looking at them. "We want to answer your questions."

It seemed like an underhanded promise. It seemed like a recruiting exercise, which Soap knew it to be. He wondered just how valuable he was to them. He wondered if killing the two massive men that rolled his gurney down some poorly lit hall would get him shot in return. He resolved, as they neared an open door, to not commit any violence. Not until his question was answered. Singular.