Call of Desire

31. Throes

throes
/THrōz/
noun
intense or violent pain and struggle, especially accompanying birth, death, or great change.

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Content Warning: Blood, Gore, Gun Violence, Death

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Ghost stumbled backwards, dropping his weapon.

"Simon!" Soap cried, firing at the man who shot at his lieutenant, planting a bullet between the man's eyebrows. 

"John!" the Brit groaned, staggering toward him, clutching his stomach. "We need cover!

More shouting and hurried footsteps approached them. Soap hastily looked around them. In this god-forsaken hallway, there was nothing but apartment doors. He chose one, kicking it open, and revealing a vacant flat. Grabbing Ghost's hand, the Scotsman dragged him into the room. Closing the door behind them, John hurriedly pushed a sofa in front of the door, barricading it shut.

"Okay. We're safe for now." Taking a deep breath, Soap turned toward his superior. "You alright, Lt.?"

The man sat against the wall, breathing heavily and shaking.

"J-Johnny..." he whimpered, reaching toward the younger man, revealing the blood that had soaked into his jacket.

"Simon!" The Scotsman rushed forward, falling to his knees in front of his lover. "I'm here, I'm here," MacTavish assured him, his voice cracking. He placed both hands over the wound, applying pressure. Ghost cried out in pain, gripping John's wrists.

"I know, I know," Small, hot tears escaped John's eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you're gonna be okay." Simon grabbed Soap's shoulder, silently begging him to stop, squeezing until it became painful. "I know it hurts, Simon, I'm sorry!"

"Stop..." Riley whined, his eyes wide as they filled with tears. "Please... stop."

"I have to stop the bleeding, I know it hurts." Trembling, the Scotsman grabbed Simon's hands, pressing them over the wound. "Keep pressing." Leaving his rifle on the floor, John pulled off his jacket, then his shirt, tearing the shirt into strips.

"Let me see?" Soap asked, unfastening the Brit's combat vest. Obeying, Simon shakily removed his hand as the Scotsman lifted the edge of his coat and hoodie. "Oh god..."

"H-how is it?"

"Not... not great..." The Sergeant admitted, pulling medical gauze from his vest and pressing it to the wound. Ghost let out a guttural scream, trying to push John away, trying to get him to stop.

"I know, I'm sorry!" Tears flowed freely from John's eyes, dripping off his chin and mixing with the blood that covered his hands. "Just breathe, breathe."

Having already bled through the gauze, Soap replaced it, wrapping the strips of his shirt around Simon's waist, covering his wound. "You're okay, my love. It's going to be okay."

"Captain... Price. Get Price."

Obeying, Soap held his comms device. "Price? This is Soap."

"Soap. What's going on? We haven't seen you for a while now." Price responded.

He exhaled, steadying his voice. "Ghost's been shot. We're cornered."

"Shit." The Captain muttered. "You near a window?"

"Affirmative."

"Stand near it, wave your arms or something, I'll find you using thermal and I'll let you know if there's a way down and out from that side of the building."

"Yes, sir." Giving Simon's hand a reassuring squeeze, John stood and approached the window opposite the door. "Signalling."

"I see you. There's a fire escape two rooms to your right. Do you think you can make it there?"

"We'll have to try, sir." The Scotsman glanced back at Ghost. "I don't think Ghost will be able to walk."

"Carry him."

"Yes, sir." The moment he turned back toward Simon, a loud banging came from the door.

"You have nowhere else to go!" A voice called to them, heavily veiled in a Russian accent. "Make it easy on yourself."

"Shit, shit, shit." Muttering, Soap opened the door to his right, revealing a bedroom. One room closer to the fire escape.

"We know your man is injured." The voice stated, and John paused. "If you surrender yourself, we will give him medical help."

"Johnny...!" Ghost cried, painfully turning toward him. "Don't do it."

"But-" Tears welled in his eyes.

"No."

"Then we've gotta go, you have to get up, Simon," John begged, slinging his weapon on his back, trying to pull Ghost off the floor. The man struggled to his feet, clutching his wound. "You're going to be okay, my love. You're doing so well. Just walk with me, we need to go."

Ghost made it all of two steps before falling to his knees.

"No, no, Simon, we have to keep moving," John stifled a sob, holding the Lieutenant's hand.

"I... I can't..."

"Yes, you can!"

"Johnny..." Ghost exhaled, shaking.

The Scotsman clutched his lover's hand, kneeling before him. "You have to, Si... I can't do this... I don't want to do this without you."

"Leave me, Johnny." Ghost muttered, clutching his stomach, blood trickling from between his fingers. "What... what was it that you said when you thought you were... were going to die? 'Live for the both of us.' Y-yeah... that was it."

"No, no, I'm not-"

"Listen to me, John." The broken man looked longingly into his lover's eyes. "Please. Run. Get out of here, and don't look back."

"I'm not fucking leaving you," John cried, placing Simon's arm on his shoulder, supporting him. One hand on his waist, the other holding his arm, Soap led the dying man to the bedroom, his injured hip protesting severely.

"Dead end." Ghost muttered.

"No," Gently letting Simon lean against the bed for support, John pulled the M4A1 off his back. Slamming the butt of the rifle into the wall, he made a hole about the size of his fist. He tore at the cheaply constructed wall, creating a way into the apartment next door. "Doorway." He stated, crawling through the hole. Silently, he searched the apartment for men, barricading the door when he found none.

"They're breaking down the door." Ghost mumbled. Sprinting back to Simon, John supported him again, helping him through the crevice.

Ghost couldn't help but cry out in pain, gripping John's arm.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Soap exhaled shakily. "We're almost out." He leaned the dying man against the wall beside the window, breaking the glass, and giving them access to the metal stairs on the side of the building as the wind rushed in.

"Johnny..." Ghost mumbled, collapsing.

The Scotsman dove to catch him, barely doing so.

"We're so close, Simon, stay with me." John's voice cracked. Simon gazed up at him, slowly reaching up to wipe a tear off MacTavish's cheek with his thumb.

"Don't... Don't cry..." he mumbled, carefully caressing his lover's face.

John sobbed, clutching the man to his chest. "Stay awake, my love... we're so close..."

Tears flooding his eyes, Simon struggled to speak as his eyes drifted shut.

"I... I love you, Johnny."