The Bullet's Whistle (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 9

    I walked through the submarine's hallways with steady, yet weary, legs. My eyes were narrowed while the rest of my face was stiff from the dried blood. The two wounds from the group of Russian guards were along my left hairline and the corners of the right side of my lips.
    My hair was messed up from when I'd left the sub and my dress wasn't only bloody, but torn in a few places. I held my handbag low in one hand. The white gloves were still on my forearms.
    I paused before command, deciphering the way I'd treat my father if he was in there. My instinct said he was, that he was watching the door like a hawk. Despite him dismissing me from the team, I had still gone out with an order from Soap. I knew he wasn't going to be happy...but whether it fell to Soap or myself was what left me curious.
    Entering the command room, I came across the whole group at the center table. Ghost, Roach, and Soap were all focused on what Shepherd was debriefing. I stumbled forwards in a rush, relieved to use the table as a balancing device.
    "Christ, Lieutenant," Shepherd started, seeing my messy hair, bruised and bloodied face, and the rips in the poofy dress fabric. A flicker of worry crossed his brows before he hardened up again.
    "Mission was unsuccessful," I didn't hold back, ignoring the wide eyes of the three men. "Makarov...he set off a bomb."
    "Soap reported to me," Shepherd then cursed under his breath as he leaned forwards on the center table. "He was there."
    "He didn't know who I was," I started, resting my gloved hands on the table a little less.
    "He does now," Shepherd snapped, rubbing the side of his face before standing straight. "You didn't get a damn thing?"
    "No sir," I shook my head. "Makarov killed Victorovich before I could try to find something on him."
    Shepherd looked like he wanted to lecture. He looked ready to nail me against a door and throw darts all night long. Instead, he only sighed with a nod and signaled to Roach.
    "Get her cleaned up."
    "Yes sir," he started towards me, gripping my bicep.
    "That's not necessary, General," I stayed where I was, looking pointedly at my father. "I can do it myself."
    His patience was thin. "You will obey my order, Hall."
    Before I could respond, Roach guided me out to the hallway. I let out a breath and then pulled out of Roach's loose grasp to follow orders. It was clear Shepherd had given a second chance...
    "You look like you just escaped the worst prom night of your life."
    I huffed in amusement. "Roach—"
    His head raised. "Well, best not keep your wounds waiting."
    I opened my mouth to argue, but Roach swept me alongside him towards a small medical room. There were stations all throughout the sub, the main one being in the center, for tending to wounds or sickness. The one near the command room was empty.
    "Sit," Roach ordered after shutting the door.
    I plopped down onto one of the benches, examining my dirtied gloves. "I hate being dressed like this."
    "Is that so?" Roach returned with a small kit and began to go through it.
    "I'd prefer my uniform any day over this," I growled, wincing when Roach wiped at my hairline. "Easy with that!"
    "Sorry," Roach shrugged and continued to clean the larger wound. "You really took a few hits."
    "Should've seen them."
    Roach chuckled and then raised a gel to coat the wound. "I was worried about you. We all were."
    "Oh," I waved a dismissive hand.
    "Soap," Roach rolled his hazel eyes, "he wouldn't shut up about how dangerous solo missions can be."
    Soap of all people being concerned? He really must have made a dangerous move putting me out there. Imagining Soap being worried about someone like myself was rather difficult, but it also put a smile on my face.
    "You're back now," Roach smiled, wiping at my lip. "That's all that matters."
    "Sam? Roach? You in here?"
    "Here," Roach called back to Soap as he poked his head in and then lowered his voice so only I could hear. "See? Worried."
    Soap stood straighter upon seeing me, a warmness spreading onto his face. The motion made my gut twinge in regret. Perhaps if we'd started off differently...I understood he was my captain, but there was something else there. I was well into my life to know what love was, to know the "you know when you know" concept.
    Soap radiated that, yet I had to ignore it with our conversation hours ago. He had made it very, very clear what our relationship to one another was about. The night between us needed to be a thing of the long, lost past.
    "How are you feeling?"
    "My head is a little numb," I shrugged, watching Roach stow away the kit again. "They were minor wounds."
    "Head wounds can be serious."
    "I'm not bleeding," I pointed. "I'm fine. I'm going with you on the next one."
    Soap opened his mouth to retaliate, but then promptly closed it. He swallowed back a stiffness in his throat and then nodded. "Very well. Shepherd will be pleased to hear."
    "I'm surprised with..." I paused and looked away, "I'm glad."
    "It's not your fault the mission went how it did," Soap watched me let loose my hair and strip my gloves, his cheek twitching in interest. "Makarov was one step ahead...as always."
    "Roach, can you leave us for a minute?"
    He shot me a childish look as he obeyed, shutting the door behind him. Soap crossed his arms and looked at me in worry. I let out a sigh.
    "I almost fell for his trick," I breathed. "Missions never shake me up, but this one..."
    "You were in the belly of the beast," Soap sat across from me gingerly and squeezed my hands. "Makarov is a monster."
    I shook my head, my stare sightless to the left of Soap. "Fuck. He has to die Soap."
    "We'll get the bastard."
    I nodded and then moved my hands from his, a heat in my gut simmering from the contact. "How did Shepherd react?"
    "He wasn't happy, but I," Soap swallowed, blinking. "I guess I..."
    "You stood up for me?" I suggested.
    "Told him you were a great loss if he decided to kick you," Soap shrugged. 
    "Soap," I found my gut burning with that unfamiliar feeling of fulfillment. "Thank you." 
    He let my hand squeeze his again and smiled at my patched up face. His lips parted for a small moment before he stiffened and slipped away once more.
    "So...the next task. What is it?"
    "That can wait Sam," Soap narrowed his eyes. "You need to rest for the rest of the time we have."
    "I'm fine," I stood as he did.
    "Samantha," Soap squeezed my shoulder firmly, his blue eyes gazing into my hazel ones. "Rest."
    "I can't. My mind is going a hundred miles an hour."
    Soap blew upwards on his face. "I can—"
    "Walk with me," I offered.
    He looked entirely reluctant.
    "Please?" I added, trying to smile.
    Soap watched me get up and then grumbled out a low curse. He followed me through the doorway as I veered right to head deeper into the submarine. I was a little wobbly with my outfit and I stopped.
     "Are you sure you're all right?" Soap demanded, coming close enough for me to smell his savory scent of natural pine.
    "Yeah," I reached down to take off the disgusting heels. "Just needed to take these stupid things off."
    "And now you are shorter," Soap smirked.
    I gazed upwards at his handsome face, another pang of regret slapping my gut. "You making fun of me MacTavish?"
    "I would never."
    I rolled my eyes and continued down the hallway, holding the heels in my right hand. Soap was on my left and he trailed alongside me in momentary silence.
    "So...how did you get here?" I questioned mindlessly.
    "Worked my way up I suppose," Soap shrugged. "Left home to be in the military and haven't returned really. It's hard to when you're in the Task Force 141. Leaves your family in danger."
    "Very true," I gazed through a tiny window to see people working out.
    "And you?" Soap mused. "How did your crazy arse get here?"
    "Shepherd has always tracked my military progress," I lowered my voice. "When he saw the things I'd accomplished, what better to do than get me here?" 
    Among other, darker, and disturbing things I'd done to get his attention...
    "He made a good choice."
    "One of many I presume," I avoided rolling my eyes by blinking; Soap didn't need to see the active hatred I still had for my father. "So far, I'm glad to be here."
    Soap drew to a stop upon reaching the door to my small quarters. His face held a tiny hint of regret as well and he looked like he had a smart-ass comment to my own. I glanced to the door handle.
    "No one knows and know one ever will," I mentioned the night with a low voice.
    Soap frowned. "How did—"
    "I only have a few hours before we head out," I concluded. "Thank you for walking with me."
    "Now will you rest?" Soap was closer to me and I raised my chin to find his gaze.
    "I'll try."
    His eyes narrowed and his features grew firmer.
    "Okay, okay," I raised my hands and opened my door. "I'll sleep like a baby."
    "That's better."
    I stepped inside, smiling like an idiot. My eyes glanced over my shoulder just enough to see Soap turning to leave. His head was dipped away from me, but I could still see the smile plastered to his lips.