War of Hearts

Chapter Three- Exile

The ride out was cold, despite the warm rainy summer air. Nobody spoke, there was too much uncertainty for anyone to make sense of any of it. Was Hex moving to field work? How long would Soap be out of commission? And most importantly, what the hell was an international terrorist organization doing with American missiles? Hex sat in the back, tending to Soap's leg in silence, helping hold pressure and cursing every single bump on the road. They were moving to further extraction to fly to a base near the cache site in Al Mazrah so they could catch their breath and debrief with Laswell and Shepherd.

The team hopped out of the car and piled into a helicopter to make the rest of the way to the military base. It was much nicer than a lot of the places they had been; large, clean, and surprisingly empty. They would be able to have their own rooms for a change. Hex didn't care about any of that now, the only facility she was focused on was their medical bay. A few doctors on call met them at the helicopter with a gurney, and she and Soap were speeding to their treatment center in an instant. They rushed through an open rolling door and moved him from the stretcher to a hospital bed, he let out a grunt at the movement. The doctors examined the injury, the medicated gauze having done its job well. They started a chart for him and went to start stitching, but Hex shooed them away, insisting she do the job herself. They began to protest but she shot them a look that had them scattering.

"Ha! If you ever looked at me like that I'd probably go running too. Well done."

She chuckled and opened a suture kit from the trauma cart nearby. "Well I want to make sure this gets done right, I'm not leaving you in the hands of some stranger after today."

"Mm," he said, thoughtfully, reflecting on what they had just discovered. "American missiles being passed out like candy..."

"This was an international smuggling operation. We don't know who we can trust, so no random doctors for you." She prepped her tools with intense focus, but care. "Pain meds?" she asked, knowing what his answer would be, but asking anyway.

"Nah, just do what you need to do, lass."

She nodded and got to work. Her movements were deliberate but tender. If she had gotten the chance to stitch it up sooner, it might not have even left a scar, but the blood-clotting medication was messy, albeit effective.

Soap eyed her while she worked. The silence between them was comfortable, as it always was. The two of them had been connected since they first met, their warmth and cheerfulness matching each other. Something about them together was like watching a crackling fire lit by two twin flames. They understood each other, and in that moment, he saw her light going out.

"Alright, what is it?"

She paused her work for a moment and looked up at him, "Hm?"

"I can tell something's wrong, spit it out."

She sighed, "I do not want to talk about it." 

"C'mon, I'm not stupid, I saw the death glares you and Ghost were giving each other on the way here. He givin' you a hard time again?"

Outside the open rolling door to the med bay, Ghost held his breath at the mention of him. His guilt over what happened with Hex and his concern for Soap was consuming him, and drew him to follow her like a tether. He stiffened, doing all he could to remain hidden as he listened.

She frowned, "caught onto that did you?"

"Of course I did, you two makin' things colder than a damned tundra in there. What the hell happened between you two?"