Reliant ~ [John Soap MacTavish]

XLIV. Ripped Stitches

I never cry from pain.

It's not something I ever felt the need to, nor did I ever feel save enough to do so.

I remember the way my father's eyes used to turn red as he looked down at me when tears welled up in my eyes. He never let me cry, and I understood why. It showed weakness. He just wanted me to be strong.

But now as my vision is locked on a tiny uneven spot on the wall, the tears won't stop streaming down my face. The urge to stop has left me too. It feels impossible, and somehow I feel that if I don't stop within the next ten minutes, I might die from dehydration.

The spot on the wall dances in front of me as Soap works on my back. He had tried calming me down, saying stuff like "It's not too bad, I can fix it," and "The wound is not that big, it's just a lot of blood. That's all. I promise, Alex."

But I wasn't crying because of the pain. I couldn't care less about my scars ripping.

It was the fact that I felt Carter on top of me instead of him. How I felt his hands wrap around my throat again, my lungs burning, my skin on fire. How I felt so fucking helpless. I have no idea how it happened, how my brain can put me back in that moment, and I hate myself for it.

Weak. Fucking weak, my fathers' voice echoes in the back of my mind.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you," Soap mumbles behind me, his fingers still working to patch me up.

I had already tried telling him the reasoning, though my throat prevented me from saying the words. I physically couldn't, and I've never felt that way before. But as the tears continue to stream down my face, I try again. "I'm not hurt."

Soap shifts behind me, and before I know it, he comes around to sit in front of me. "What do you mean?" His brows are furrowed, expression worried which, for some reason, doesn't irritate me this time. "What happened?"

The shirt lying in my lap is soaked in both blood and salty tears falling from my face. It's not even that I'm sobbing, or anything like that. I sit in silence, not moving, and tears still stream down my face like I've turned on a faucet right behind my eyes. I didn't even know this shit was possible.

"I don't know," I mumble, my voice barely audible. "I saw Carter."

Soap's brows furrow, and he tilts his head slightly.

"I felt his hands around my throat. I couldn't breathe," I manage to get out, eyes finally finding his. "I panicked."

Soap's lips form a thin line, though his brows are still furrowed. He looks at me with a different kind of pity than before, and even though it would usually bother me, it doesn't. Not this time.

I somehow find comfort in the way he looks at me, because it tells me it's not odd for me to be crying right now. And as he lifts a hand to my neck, his thumb working to carefully rub the skin on my jaw, it makes me feel a little less shit.

Tears still fall down, and I notice that some of them land on his hands. He doesn't wipe them away as I'd expect him to. Instead, he lowers his hands and wraps an arm around me. Blood immediately seeps through his clothes too, and he doesn't seem to care one bit. He simply holds me, letting me rest my head in the crook of his neck.

"Fucking hell," I mumble, my voice betraying my frustration. "Why can't shit ever be normal around me."

Soap hums, but I can feel him shake his head slightly. "Not your fault."

My face is not pressed against his neck, my tears and blood continuing to soak his clothes. "I'm so sorry. For everything. I never—"

"It's fine, Alex," he says, "I get it."

"You shouldn't."

A soft chuckle escapes him, his chest heaving in the process as the sound causes a warm feeling to spread through me. I genuinely thought I'd never hear it again. I don't think I deserve to hear it, actually.

A good ten minutes of silence later, he sighs, but it's a sigh that tells me he's going to say something he doesn't want to. Something that might hurt me or himself too.

"Listen, Alex," he mumbles, the movement of his jaw moving my hair as my head is still pressed against his neck. "I'm really, really sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this."

Somehow, I can immediately sense where he's going with this. Dread fills me. I'd been thinking about this moment for days now, and I know he's right. I had decided it'd be best too.

"You're right."

He stills, his breathing slowing down for a moment. After a second he wraps his arms around me just a little tighter. "If you need someone. Anyone. Anything. Just come to me, okay?"

I clench my jaw, a feeling of regret creeping up on me as I bury my face into his skin. I nod, the movement subtle, but enough for him to feel.

"Promise me you will come to me."

When I don't immediately respond, he pulls away from the hug. His presence immediately gets replaced by cold emptiness, and for a second I resent him for pulling away. But when I look up at him, I can tell he's hurting too.

He lifts his hands to my jaw, gently cupping my face. "Alex?"

My brows twitch as I feel another tear fall down. The last one, I decide. "I'll come to you. I promise."

"Good," he smiles, but I can tell he's forcing himself to.

Then, he kisses my cheek and stands, leaving me sitting on my own. But just before he passes through the door, he turns back. "I'll come and redo your bandages tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Okay," I reply, keeping my gaze on my hands so I don't have to see him leave.

It's better this way. For everyone, I tell myself.

A/N

Double update WOOO