Unseen | Ghost x Soap

Chapter 61: Stress

Ghost's POV:

The hours leading up to the mission were a haze of preparation. The weight of the task ahead of us, the danger, hung heavy in the air, making every movement feel more deliberate, every decision more critical. We geared up in silence, the usual chatter among the team replaced by an unspoken tension. Even Price seemed quieter than usual, his sharp eyes watching as we double-checked our weapons and gear.

Soap was focused, methodically checking his equipment, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders. He was masking it well, but I knew him. I knew how this weighed on him. I felt it too—an ever-present knot in my chest that only tightened as the time to deploy drew closer.

My mind kept wandering back to the night before, to the way we had held each other. There had been something grounding about it, a reminder that beneath the uniforms and the missions, we were still just men. Men who cared for each other more than either of us was willing to admit aloud. And it was that care that made this mission all the more terrifying.

As we headed out to the helipad, the cold night air bit at my skin, sharp against the heavy silence that seemed to press in on all sides. The roar of the helicopter blades filled the void as we approached, the sound vibrating through the ground, making everything feel more real.

We climbed aboard, settling into our seats, the helicopter vibrating with the engine's power as it prepared to lift off. I sat next to Soap, our gear bags piled next to us. The interior was dim, shadows playing across the faces of my teammates, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Even now, sitting so close, I could feel the tension radiating from Soap like a live wire.

I glanced over at him, watching the way he stared straight ahead, his hands clenched around the strap of his weapon. Without thinking, I reached out under the cover of the bags beside us, slipping my hand over his. It was a small gesture, barely noticeable in the cramped space of the helicopter, but I felt Soap's fingers twitch beneath mine.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he turned his hand over, letting me interlace my fingers with his. I brushed my thumb gently over his knuckles, offering him a silent reassurance. My heart was hammering in my chest, the fear of what lay ahead threatening to overwhelm me, but holding his hand like this—hidden from the others—it gave me something to focus on. Something solid.

Soap turned his head slightly, just enough that our eyes met for a brief second. No words passed between us, but I saw the gratitude there, and maybe something more. Something deeper. We couldn't afford to dwell on it now, not when we were so close to the mission, but it was there. We both knew it.

Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease. His hand relaxed in mine, his breathing slowing. I continued to rub circles over his knuckles, feeling the tension in my own chest loosen with each movement. It was strange, this small moment of comfort in the middle of so much uncertainty. But it was ours, and it was enough to remind me why we did this—why we fought.

The helicopter's engines droned on, the noise becoming a steady hum as we flew deeper into enemy territory. The hours seemed to stretch endlessly, the anticipation building with every passing minute. The weight of what we were about to do pressed down on all of us. No one spoke. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional shift of gear or the muffled clink of metal.

Soap's head began to droop, exhaustion finally catching up to him. His body leaned toward mine until his head came to rest against my shoulder. I glanced down at him, making sure no one else had noticed, and allowed him to stay there. I couldn't help but smile, despite the circumstances.

Price sat across from us, his face as unreadable as ever, but it was Gaz, sitting on the other side of Soap, who raised an eyebrow and grinned at the sight.

"Getting cozy, are we?" he teased, his voice low enough not to disturb the others but loud enough to carry through the rumble of the helicopter.

Soap stirred slightly at the sound, blinking his eyes open as he realized where he was. He sat up quickly, his face reddening under the dim lights, and I could feel the warmth of embarrassment radiating off him.

"Fuck off, Gaz," I muttered, my voice a bit gruffer than I intended. But Gaz just chuckled, a small smirk playing on his lips as he went back to staring out into the dark.

Soap shot me a sheepish glance, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of affection for the man. It was rare to see him flustered, and even rarer to be the cause of it. I gave his shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze before we both turned our attention back to the mission at hand.

The helicopter began to descend, the hum of the engines shifting into a more deliberate whine as we approached the drop zone. My pulse quickened, the adrenaline starting to flood my system in preparation for what was to come. I could feel the shift in the others too, the subtle straightening of backs, the renewed grip on weapons. We were soldiers again, focused and ready.

But beneath it all, that knot of fear remained. I couldn't shake the image of Soap caught in the crossfire, of losing him to a bullet I wasn't fast enough to block. I couldn't lose him. Not now, not after everything.

The helicopter touched down with a jarring thud, and the back door began to lower. The wind outside was fierce, carrying the scent of earth and rain. I tightened my grip on my rifle, preparing myself for whatever was waiting for us out there.

Price stood up first, signaling for us to follow. One by one, we rose, filing out of the helicopter and into the darkness. The mission had begun, and the fear that had been simmering inside me was now a roaring fire.