Betrayal | Ghost x Reader

Second Thoughts

A/N: yes i'm alive, sorry this took so long! i kinda fell out of love with the story and i didn't want to give yall shitty chapters. but, i'm getting into it again, and i appreciated all the comments! hope u guys enjoy! i'll be posting 2 more chapters today to make up for it! love u guys.

Word count: 1.6k

My heart thumped wildly in my chest as my eyes widened so much I thought they might pop straight out of my skull. "Whatcha doin' lass?" Soap's Scottish accent sounds out as a small chuckle falls from his mouth. A scowl curls on my lips as I shove his hands off of me, quickly whipping my body around to stare at him dead in the eyes. "Really, Soap?" I scoffed as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, my tired gaze piercing straight through him. 

A cheeky smile formed on his lips as he remained seemingly unfazed by the annoyance oozing from every pore and crevice of my body. "I called your name like a thousand times," he joked, a smile still plastered over his dumb face. His gaze began to study my features, the dark baggage under my eyes, the fine lines etched on my youthful skin, the color of my face pallid and drawn. "Jesus you look like bloody shit," he mumbled, the smile on his face fading as his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. 

My gaze falls to the floor and I shrug my shoulders, "The beds here really aren't the most fucking comfortable," I muttered, my eyes flitting back up to meet Soap's analyzing stare. We observe each other for a few moments, the blazing sun beating down on our figures. I nervously bite at my lip, a bad habit of mine. What was I supposed to say? There was really no way in hell was I going to be honest. "Oh, you know me, just having a crisis about the mission we're about to go on... the one I promised to help you guys with so you wouldn't kill me? Yeah, that one... well, I'm having second thoughts."

Fuck no. 

"You scaring the fucking shit out of me didn't help either," I added on, trying my best to look amused and unbothered when really I was feeling anything but. Soap's blue orbs narrowed slightly, eyeing me up and down in an almost suspicious manner. I'm still the Al-Qatala bitch, I need to remember that, and I really haven't done much to prove my undying loyalty to the Task Force 14... something. "Take a picture it'll last longer fucking Christ," I grumbled, rolling my eyes. 

Soap's lips curled up into a cheeky grin, his signature goofy laugh sounding out, "Ah, I'm just fuckin' witcha," he joked, shaking his head back and forth before rocking up and down on the heels of his feet. Still, I could see the skepticism in his eyes, the way his gaze lingered on my facial expressions a few seconds too long. "My boys can smell bullshit like a hound dog,"  Price's words lingered in my mind. 

My eyes flicked over to the mess hall, some soldiers walked into it smiling and laughing at one another, others looking like they were a few moments away from airing the place out before having their morning coffee. I returned my gaze back to Soap, he was still looking at me, I felt like I was under a microscope, being prodded and poked at against my will without even knowing it. The longer I was in his presence, the more uncomfortable I became. The feeling he could see through me like I was bathed in Windex, that he was dissecting me for every emotion I felt, was almost unbearable. 

"Um, well... I- I'm gonna go eat," I quickly stated, just needing to get away from Soap and the fucking apprehensive glint in his eyes. Not even waiting for a reply, I brushed straight past him, my boots crunching against the dry gravel, my mouth feeling like I just swallowed a pound of it. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands keeping me grounded, even just a little bit.

"We still have training to do!" He yelled out after me, I could hear his footsteps growing near again. God can I ever catch a fucking break? I growled to myself, I completely forgot about that shit, I knew I might've needed it since Ghost handed my ass to me on a silver platter and then smacked the fucking shit out of me like a goddamn rag doll. Soap was easier to spar with, but was I in the mood? Ring a ding ding, no. Forcing a clearly fake smile on my lips, I turned around and stopped in my tracks, Soap already right behind me.

"About that, I really don't feel like it, so... no thanks," I nodded, my smile becoming more tight-lipped by the second. There was an unreadable emotion on his face, he opened his lips to speak again, but quickly shut them. A part of me felt slightly bad, bad for second guessing helping them, bad for feeling conflicted on whether or not to aid in making the world a marginally better place. The panic began to settle in again. I shook my head, "It's just the... confrontation with Ghost yesterday... messed with... me a um... a bit," I added on, my voice slightly wavering.

I hoped he'd buy it and leave me the fuck alone. I didn't care I was spewing bullshit about Ghost and hoping it'd stick, using him and his temper as a saving grace. Soap's facial expression softened and he nodded his head, an empathetic smile curling on the corners of his lips, "Gotcha, I understand that... if yer up to it later, you know where to find me," he concluded, adding a wink at the end. He uncrossed his arms and gave me one last nod before walking away. 

A shaky exhale released itself the moment he was out of earshot. Tendrils of panic began to grip at the corners of my mind as I turned on my heel and slowly made my way to the mess hall. My eyes darted around, my pupils pin pointed in fear. What if Soap could tell that I was bullshitting? What if Soap was currently on his way to Price's office trying to sign off my death warrant? Can everybody tell? My face remained as neutral as I could possibly keep it, concealing the perpetual unease churning below the surface. 

The cool air of the mess hall whipped against my face as I walked inside, thank God for air conditioning. Still, sweat poured from every inch of my body, my palms slick with the substance as small beads of moisture dribbled down the back of my neck, the hairs of it standing on end. The clatter of trays, shuffle of boots, and light chatter of soldiers filled my ears, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling that everybody was staring at me. I kept my gaze to the recruits boots in front of me as I made my way through the busy line.

Wiping the accumulated sweat off my hands I filled my tray full of food, the clearly powdered eggs, the bacon that looked like it'd been rotting in the back of the freezer for years, and fruits that had obviously been dropped on the floor one too many times. Nodding my head and offering a forced smile at the unlucky bastard serving the items, I made my way over to an empty table and sat down. 

Tonight we'd be leaving to Las Almas, tonight I'd have to see my old team of soldiers face to face and kill them without a second thought, without any hesitation or doubt in my mind. Or yet, maybe they'd be the ones to kill me first. The moment they'd see me amongst the people I had sworn to kill, they'd know I was a traitor. The ones I used to be in a team with, my comrades, my friends... they'd riddle my body bullets with a smile on their face. Ruthless killing was the motto. 

Maybe being a good guy just wasn't the life made out for me. Maybe I was just born to be one of the bad guys, I was raised as such, I've always been treated as such. Ghost should've killed me when he had the chance, Gaz should've killed me the moment I held the knife to his throat, Soap should've killed me the second he had a suspicion. I would've done so in every single situation. Doesn't that say a lot about me? They showed me mercy when I deserved none. And here I was, second guessing helping them even though it was my life on the line.

I didn't deserve it. The fact I'm even having these thoughts after what they've done for me solidified what I know I need to do. Tonight could end in many ways, but I'll know the one I'll be rooting for. This will be my last day in these quarters, my last day eating this food... if you could call it that, my last day with Soap, Gaz, Price and thank fucking God Ghost. Tonight I'd rip out my earpiece, the British emblem on my vest, and the Task Force badge on it as well. Tonight I would run from them and back into the arms of my shitty ass terrorist group. 

Tonight I'd be an Al-Qatala soldier once again.