Dogs of War

Chapter 25

"Hey, pup," Ghosts gentle voice pulls me away from the shallow sleep I'd been in. Soap had shifted at some point so that he was no longer laying directly over the top of me. I blink awake, staring up at Ghost groggy and confused.

"Ghost?" I say, my voice thick with sleep.

"Yeah, darlin' it's me."

"You ok?" I ask slurring the words a little as I struggle to wake back up fully. 

"Yeah, pup, I'm ok. How about we go for a walk? It's a nice night out."

"Mmm'k" I respond sliding out from Soaps limbs despite his sleepy protests. I chuck a jumper and some track suit pants on and follow Ghost out the door. I can smell the thick heavy tobacco scent that tells me he's smoked a whole packet before coming back in. Soap had been right to keep me trapped in bed this time. This time I was the trigger for something very painful for Ghost if he'd been smoking that heavily. 

He wasn't wrong about the weather being nice. The sky was clear for once, with the moon shining brightly overhead. The base this late at night, as empty as it was, was eerie. I'd stayed at school once after hours. Same thing. The desertedness of a space that was usually busy creeped me out. We continued walking side by side silently. Ghost as he gathered his thoughts, and I admiring the sky in a way I hadn't gotten to do for a long time. However I started to lag a little as the cold started forcing my injured leg to stiffen up. In the fog of waking up, I'd forgotten the leg brace. Ghost noticed my slight limp and gestured to a half wall nearby. Ghost scooped me up easily by the waist and sat me on the wall as I grumble at him.

"I could have managed to get up just fine."

"Yes, but this way I guarantee you don't injure your leg further."

"It's a wall that stands about four feet tall. I know I'm short, but I can clamber four feet without injury to self."

"Doubt it." The simple retort holds only a vague amusement to it that tells me at this point he is genuinely starting to think I'm always accident prone. Considering my track record so far, I was starting to agree a little too much with that thought myself.

We continue sitting there in companionable silence until Ghost was ready to break the silence and reveal why he'd bought me outside in weather I'd still consider winter back home.

"I was caught and tortured once." He starts off, and I nod, wondering where he's going with the story, but I sit in silence, letting him tell me in his own terms. "It was long before I met Price, let alone the rest of the 141." He pauses, fingers tapping the wall absently in a rare show of anxious energy the big man normally hid. "I was caught by a man called Roba. He was in league with some of the dirtiest scum of man kind. He was a master manipulator, some of the best in brainwashing techniques. I spent weeks... maybe months in his hands." I listen to the story my hand snaking out to grab his, my thumb smoothing across the back of his hand. He startles at the contact, staring at me wide eyed and I realise too late that he'd been embroiled deeply within his memories as he told the story. I begin withdrawing my hand and apologising, only for him to grip my hand tightly, not letting me move away and hushing me. I sit there and shut up, hoping my hand in his helps ground him better as he says what he needs to.

"Major Vernon." He states, as if the man was in front of us right now and he was giving a simple greeting. He takes a deep breath in, releasing it slowly before continuing on, his eyes staring out at nothing, and yet seeming to see every horror man kind could throw at him. "Major Vernon was the first to be brainwashed. He was sent back to us to recruit more soldiers for the brainwashing. Obviously, not knowing his real intentions I agreed to go to supposedly take down Roba. Upon arrival, I could smell that something was wrong, but was young and new to the special operations manual. I followed my Major, right into the ambush. When I was taken, and refused to break to the brainwashing, Roba did..." He grimaces, his hand squeezing mine in reflex as he remembers the awful things that happened. "Roba had me hung from a butchers hook by my ribs." I squeeze his hand reassuringly, letting him know I was still listening. My heart ached knowing that my nightmare had dredged up his living, breathing demons. He looks at me then, the moonlight reflecting off of his chocolate coloured eyes, turning them to a beautiful liquid amber colour that captivated me. "Your nightmare, only similar in terms of impalement hit a nerve I wasn't expecting. I'm sorry."

I squeeze his hand and I smile with as much reassurance as I can. "Ghost, you're my best friend, and I probably know better than anyone that you have issues." I laugh softly. "But hey, I got issues too."

Ghost goes still as I speak, mask crinkling in a way that I know he's staring at me mouth gaping open.

"Trying to catch flies, Ghost?" I ask curiously amused.

"No," he says drawing out the word slowly as if trying to make sure that's how one pronounced the word no. "But did you say 'best friend'?"

"Yeah, should I not have? Don't tell me I'm not your best friend. That's going to be really fucking awkward." He continues to stare at me and I wonder if I've started speaking gibberish and having a stroke. 

"I think it's been a very long time since anyone has said I'm the best friend..."

"Oh... Oooh..." I say, and begin shuffling along the wall to get even closer. I wrap an arm around his shoulders, resting my head on the one closest to me. "Well, I'm stuck with you for life... and you take very good care of me... and you trash talk back to me as much as my brothers do... I'd consider you the best of friends."

The smell of blood rushing to the surface of Ghosts face makes me duck my head smiling so he couldn't see the expression. "Ahh," he grumbles, voice rough. "Awa an bile yer heid," he says, taking a leaf out of Soaps book. 

"No thanks," I laugh, "That's why I have Soap." 

"Eurgh, really mutt?" he says, the crinkles in his mask and around his eyes telling me he's smirking despite the faux disgust in his voice. "You know, you should really have better taste in the men you choose to hang around. Me, Soap... The worst of the worst," he slings an arm around my waist holding me close to him, his read gently resting on top of mine. 

"Unfortunately, I think my taste in men is pretty much fixed on men who care deeply for me and would murder everyone to make sure I stayed safe." 

"That's one way of looking at it, pup."

"What's another?" 

"You are deeply attracted to men who have serious trauma and deep seated issues that seek out a beacon in the dark to latch onto."

"Well fortunately for this hybrid, my men with trauma issues try every day very damn hard to make sure I'm cared for and alive. Even if you do tend to baby me far too much."

He chuckles. "Stop doing stupid shit then, mutt."

"I can't help it when I'm following along your footsteps," I retort smugly. 

"This is very true, I suppose. You can only follow where I lead." He sighs straightening up, the tender moment over. "We should probably get you back to bed before Soap wakes up freaking out you've disappeared."

"Yeah. I don't blame the poor bastard. The first couple of nights I was out of the infirmary, he'd wake up in cold sweats, having nightmares I'd gotten shot by Makarov again."

"Ahh crap. We probably should have woken him up before leaving."

"It's ok, I've been training him to not react badly if I'm gone in the middle of the night. I often have to get up anyway."

"I am aware. Do you have the bladder of a small child?" he asks dryly as he scoops me down off the wall. The loss of his body heat next to me has me shivering slightly despite jumper and tracksuit. "Also, it's the middle of bloody summer. What's your problem?"

"First of all... likely. I have suspected I had the bladder of a small child for a while now. Second of all, you call this shite Summer? This is my winter." 

"Fuckin' Australians" he mutters keeping an eye on me as he leads the way back.

"Fuckin' Australians," I mimic back childishly pulling faces towards his back.

"Don't pull faces at me, mutt," he says without turning around.

"Damn, your mum senses are on point."

"My what?" he stops turning around to look at me. 

"Mum senses. Being able to know what their children are doing even without looking at them."

"That makes sense. My mum was very good at knowing we were misbehaving."

"I bet it was easy." I say grinning up at Ghost. "I bet you were always misbehaving."

Ghosts bark of laughter breaks the still silence around us and he shakes his head. "Not wrong there, pup. Not wrong at all." We continue back inside laughing together.