COD Oneshots

Dreams and Reality Pt 2 (Roach)

Days passed, each one feeling like an eternity. The sterile smell of the hospital room had begun to settle into Y/N's senses, but it didn't feel like home. Nothing felt like home when Roach wasn't awake, when he wasn't beside her, the way he always had been. She had barely left his side, her eyes never straying from him for too long. His steady breathing, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor—these were the only things that told her he was still there, still fighting, even though his mind remained locked in a quiet, endless sleep.

The days blurred together in a haze. The bright hospital lights never seemed to fade, and the bustling of nurses and doctors had become a faint background noise to her thoughts. She hadn't told anyone, but the worry was suffocating. Every time she looked at him, every time she tried to speak to him, her heart felt like it was splintering. What if he didn't wake up? What if he never heard me?

At times, she would talk to him, telling him things she couldn't say to anyone else. She told him about the mission, about the team, about the small, insignificant things that had filled the days before this nightmare. She told him about how she missed the sound of his laugh, the way he always seemed to know just what to say when things got tough. She told him she loved him, over and over again, as if her words could reach him wherever his mind had wandered.

But still, there was no sign that he could hear her.

The nurses had taken a quiet liking to her, often sneaking her food when she refused to leave to eat, offering her drinks and little comforts to try and ease the hours. They could see how exhausted she was, her eyes red-rimmed and her face drawn. One nurse, a kind woman named Claire, had become her unofficial ally, slipping Y/N extra portions of food and encouraging her to take small breaks.

"You need to eat," Claire would say softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You can't help him if you don't take care of yourself."

Y/N would nod, though she knew Claire was right. But how could she eat when Roach was still lying there, still so still? How could she take care of herself when the one person who meant everything to her was trapped in an endless sleep, fighting a battle she couldn't fight for him?

The others—Soap, Ghost, Price—came to visit one by one, their faces grim but supportive. They each spent a little time with her, offering her quiet company and words of encouragement. But they knew the situation as well as she did. Roach was still in the fight, and right now, there was nothing anyone could do but wait.

Soap had been the most vocal about checking in on her, always making sure she was eating, offering a quick joke to try and break through her thick fog of worry. "Roach would be pissed if he saw you like this," he had said once with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "You know how he is. He's a stubborn bastard. He's gotta wake up and give you hell for not taking care of yourself."

But even Soap's lighthearted comments couldn't mask the fear in his eyes, the way he lingered by the door each time, as if he were waiting for Roach to wake up, too. No one knew what the next hour would bring. No one knew when—if—he would open his eyes again.

Price had stopped by one evening, his presence a quiet weight in the room. He gave Y/N a long look before pulling up a chair next to her, sitting in companionable silence. He didn't have to say anything. His presence spoke volumes, letting her know she wasn't alone. They both understood the unspoken bond they shared with Roach, the understanding that was forged in the heat of battle.

After a while, Price spoke, his voice low but steady. "We'll get him back, Y/N. He's too damn stubborn to give up now."

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice, but the tears that had been threatening for days finally broke through. "I'm so scared, Price. What if he doesn't wake up? What if...?"