Seasons - Ghost X Soap

Chapter 6: Winter, Anew

June 2, 2023
Western Paraguay
8°C / 46.4°F

Ghost did get around to his shower, eventually.

After Soap made sure he was okay in there, he nipped down to the field hospital. It was still a hive of activity, though the initial urgency had calmed. The most critical patients had been airlifted out to proper facilities. A new round of less severely injured were flown across from the FOB, which currently lacked most of its medbay and half of its sleeping quarters. The hotel's rooms were steadily being filled up again. Supplies and soldiers shuttled back and forth upon constantly active helicopters.

The clock had ticked past midnight at some point. It was the second day of winter, this half of the world.

Soap managed to flag down a harried medic to finally get his own wounds treated. Nothing too bad. The Marine gave him a lightning-fast patch job and ran off again.

Just as well, because Soap's radio buzzed with Ghost's voice. "Johnny. How copy?"

"I'm just downstairs, LT. Everything all right?"

"Affirm. I, uh..." Ghost's words echoed slightly. "Just need a change of clothes."

"Oh." Soap laughed shortly. "That ye do, pure forgot 'bout that part. Lemme see..."

He scoured the supply crates and found one that held spare stacks of uniforms. He took a few sets in different sizes. Then he grabbed a pack of bottled water and an armful of rations. Plus a nice big medkit as well, since it was free.

"Items secured, sir. You want anything to eat?"

"No."

"Roger that. RV at your location in one," Soap said cheekily.

It was worth it, for the tiny huff Ghost breathed into the comms. "Solid copy, Sergeant. Out."

Soap jogged back upstairs, depositing his spoils upon the small table. Ghost's mask was draped over the back of a chair, scrubbed clean and dripping water onto the worn floorboards. Soap gave it a fond tap.

"I'll put your clothes outside, sir," he called, knocking on the bathroom door.

"Thanks," Ghost replied.

Mission accomplished, Soap plopped down and prepared himself a dinner. Spicy pork sausage, the best thing on the menu. He ignored the urge to crawl into bed and pass out.

Ghost emerged from the bathroom, barefoot, dressed in a loose uniform. Soap said apologetically, "Couldn't find a balaclava, but there's a facemask in the medkit, or I can go see if there's a hairdryer somewhere in this place-"

"It's fine, Johnny." Ghost took a seat beside him.

This was probably the clearest Soap had ever seen Ghost's exposed face. All other times, he'd either been covered in grime, or the room was too dim to reveal much. But now, his greasepaint was gone, his pale skin clean and patched up, his washed hair turned bronze from moisture. Soap could catch every little detail under the bland yellow lights.

When he was inevitably caught staring, Soap simply smiled and returned to eating. "How're we feelin'?"

"Better."

Soap nodded at the bed. "Gonna get some sleep?"

"Will you?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Okay." He nudged forward some of the main meals. "Sure you don't want some supper, then?"

"No. And you took the best one already."

Ghost stole his orange chocolate cookies instead, tearing into them like a rabid animal.