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

Chapter 13

    "You know him?" I demanded, keeping my pistol steady on the prisoner.
    "This belongs to you sir," Soap handed his customized M1911 towards the older man with greying brunette facial hair.
    "You know him? How do you know him?" I demanded, lowering my pistol.
    Soap opened his mouth to reply when the entire gulag shook around us. "Come on! We gotta get outta here!"
    The entire place started to rattle to pieces as we took off. Roach had been helped up by the strange prisoner named Price and began to run along with Soap.
    "Bravo Six be advised, they've started the bombardment early! Get the hell outta there now!" Shepherd ordered loudly into the radio system.
    "Better get the General's Daughter outta here or face Shepherd," Roach huffed as he hustled along.
    "Shut up Roach!" I bellowed in anger, sliding to a stop at the opening signaling the end of the tunnel.
    Soap peered across at the Little Bird. "Get ready to jump!"
    As soon as he spoke, the tunnel exit collapsed from the shockwaves. I spun around before any of the other three men could and began to backtrack. I filed into a large cafeteria, seeing that the part of the place hadn't been detonated yet.
    "Six-Four, where the hell are you?" Soap was peering upwards through the opening.
    The upset structure groaned as it released pieces of debris from the air. I dove to the left, narrowly avoiding a larger piece, but Roach was hit. He tumbled to the ground, hazel eyes rolling to the back of his head.
    "Roach!" Soap shouted.
    Price uncovered Roach in a hurry and then glanced at Soap. "Whatever you're gonna do Soap, do it fast."
    "Soap!" I spoke from where I was spun up from the debris falling nearby.
    As he looked at me, I tossed my flare gun. He caught it in mid-air and then launched a flare upwards through the hole. I let out a breath of relief, pushing myself up in slow motions.
    "Bravo Six, I see your flare," the chopper hovered over the opening.
    A rope dropped down to our level. I quickly hooked up to it, standing close to Soap as Roach dizzily did the same. Price held onto Roach as the rope yanked us upwards, through the shaking gulag, to the night sky above.
    Below us, the gulag exploded from artillery fire.

The hot water dripping down my tight muscles made me let out a low groan. I pressed my palms harder against the tile in front of me, dipping my head downwards into the stream of the shower water. My hair made a curtain all around my face, shielding me from anything outside of the private shower.
    I forced myself to get out after five minutes, deciding too long of a shower wouldn't be a good idea. The small base we had tracked down was limited with supplies for the night we'd stay. While the others had already cleaned up and found suitable rest, I didn't want to take more than my share.
    I changed back into my uniform, tying up my hair in a loose bun as per protocol assigned by my father. I didn't need to draw attention to myself with having my hair down, according to him. That rule was the most annoying, but I followed it.
    Exiting the shower chamber, I moved down to where I was assigned to sleep for the evening. Roach, Ghost, and Price had to share while Soap had given me the separate room. I had tried to talk him out of such nonsense, that I could share with the men, but he was too stubborn to talk to.
    That, and Soap was caught up in trying to converse with his long, lost comrade John Price. I hadn't listened to much of the conversation as I'd left to clean up, but I did know that the two were close. They'd been through a lot and had a comradeship that went deep into their blood.
    "Sam," a voice made me pause from entering my quarters.
    I glanced over to see Roach and rolled my eyes. "Leave me alone Roach."
    He hustled to catch the door before it shut behind me. "Can we please talk?"
    "You don't need to talk to the General's Daughter," I spat out, throwing my towel to the cot in the small space.
    Roach physically flinched and opened his mouth to respond. He snapped it shut again and held his tongue, unable to form words. I only let out an irritated sigh.
    "I told you not to call me that," I stated firmly. "I asked you."
    "It just came out," Roach lowered his head.
    "Grow a hold on your tongue then," I didn't falter in my anger despite his genuine regret.
    "Hall? Are you in—oh, am I interrupting something?" Ghost paused at the door.
    "Only a meaningless conversation," I hissed out and faced him. "What's up?"
    "Soap wanted to speak with you...something about Shepherd," Ghost rubbed the back of his neck.
    I nodded and then moved out of my quarters. "Very well then."
    I didn't wait to watch Roach and Ghost close my door in respectfulness. My feet pounded towards the makeshift command center as I tried to settle myself down.
    Roach knew how much I hated to be associated with Shepherd as a family member. While it was known, it didn't have to be stated...especially since I still hadn't made amends with Shepherd.
    "That was quick," Soap didn't sound surprised.
    "Where's your friend?"
    "I forced Price to go rest," Soap sighed, running a hand through his hair.
    "Seems like you need to take your own advice."
    "Shepherd wanted to check in with you."
    My blood grew hot again. "He doesn't need to. I'm no different from any of you. I can handle—"
    Soap smashed a finger to my lips to shut me up. I stared into his calm blue gaze, breathing in the scent of ammunition on his close hand. He slowly moved it away.
    "I know, but he's still your leader, your father," Soap pointed out. "If he wants to check in, let him."
    I rolled my eyes. "How am I supposed to?"
    Soap motioned to the chat going on the computer. "Just pick up the phone and you'll get him. No guarantee that it's a safe signal, so watch your words."
    He politely moved away from the table to gaze through a small window. I picked up the phone, heard it ring twice, and then Shepherd's voice came through.
    "Sam?"
    "Yeah," I put a hand on my hip, expecting distaste for me still being a part of the Task Force.
    "I'm glad you got out of there safely. I was worried."
    "Dad, I really wish that you would treat me like your other soldiers," I kept my voice low. "I'm...more experienced than some of them. Remember that."
    "You're my daughter," he pointed out. "It's not like there's a switch I can turn off for being a dad."
    "You could turn it down a little."
    There was a heavy sigh on the other end. "Just remember that we're family and that's never going to change."
    "You've said that," I murmured.
    "I love you Samantha."
    His unexpected words brought back a bitterness in my head. I swallowed a tenderness in my chest, clearing my throat. "Love you too."
    The words were awkward and difficult to say with all the shit we'd been through. With mom's death, to serving in the military, to arriving at the Task Force, Shepherd and I had yet to make amends. For me, the three simple words didn't mean a damn thing.
    "Show 'em what you have out there, but be safe."
    "Yes sir," I whispered and then quickly hung up the phone.
    Letting out an uncomfortable breath, I looked down at the rickety table in silence. Soap was still by the window, his back to me, and curiosity snagged me more than my conversation. I crossed the room in silence.
    Soap continued to stand facing the darkness of the night, watching the reflection of the moon. I eyed his arm, stripped of his long sleeve uniform to show a white tee. The back of his right arm, propped against the window sill, held a deep scrape.
    "Your arm," I murmured, stepping closer.
    Soap shifted in a startled manner. "It's not bad."
    "It still needs attention," I argued, holding onto his fit arm with little dark hair.
    "I said," he shifted completely away from me, "it's fine."
    I stood in front of him now, his torso turned my direction. Soap eyed me for a long moment before looking back out the window.
    "So you and Price," I started, "how do you know each other?"
    "We have a history together."
    I fell silent in irritation. "Clearly Soap. I just want to know what it is."
    "And I want to know why you hate your father so much," Soap faced me entirely, his face shadowed partly by the window. "Besides what he said about Blackjack."
    I narrowed my eyes, studying his chiseled jawline and his thick lips. Soap was a person I'd come to admire despite willing every ounce of me not to. I had tried to make peace with him yet he only showed reluctance.
    This was my last shot and his last chance.
    "Shepherd left my mother and I at a really bad time when I was younger," I looked out of the window, ignoring Soap's steady glare on the side of my face. "We were lost and practically homeless all because he chose military over family. We had to survive and we barely did so. When my mother developed cancer, I became convinced it was because he'd left us in such shitty conditions. When he learned about it, he visited her in the hospital once but that was early.
    "He wasn't there when she died or when I needed him most. He acted like I didn't even exist until I entered the military too. Why did I? I just had so much anger and pent up frustration that it felt like the best release," I paused. "I wasn't wrong."
    Soap's glare had faltered into a gaze of remorse and curiosity. He was more relaxed now, focused on my moving lips and my blinking eyes as I spoke. I turned to face him in defiance.
     "I have a lot against him and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for what he did," I spoke without an ounce of waver. "So...that's why I hate him. I'll play his games and obey his commands, but when it comes down to it...I'll never forget what he did."
    Soap slowly nodded. "I'm sorry that happened."
    I glanced out to the window. "Yeah, well...I have to keep on moving along."
    "Sam," Soap looked like he was at a loss of words. "I'm sorry for being how I was. I just like to treat the things I know I shouldn't have done with bad attitude."
    "It's okay, I—" I broke off and looked back at him. "What?"
    Soap shrugged. "I'll be honest, and I'm changing the subject here, I haven't gotten over that night and I never will. It's why I'm so snappy with you and I have to apologize."
    "First off," I faced him, pointing a finger at his chest, "some of that snappiness was necessary. Second..."
    Soap cocked an eyebrow.
    "Why haven't you said anything?"
    Soap suddenly pounced on my close proximity. He was suddenly gripping at my waist and my neck and ripping me closer to him as he smashed his lips on mine. I fell into his frustrated actions, letting out a moan of surprise.
    He was kissing me like it was the last thing he would ever do, like he hadn't held me in years. The heat that rose in my gut from his actions was enough to make me want to vomit in happiness, in excitement. Already, his grip was enough to send me over the edge.
    "I can't do it," Soap murmured into the heated kiss. "I can't leave you alone."
    "Then don't."
    Reluctantly, Soap released me entirely. His chest rose and fell in fast movements, signaling his exertion into our unexpected display of attraction. I panted as well, leaning back against the window sill in utter shock.
    "I shouldn't," he whispered, shaking his head. "I won't."
    "Leave me alone?"
    "No," Soap shook his head and then rubbed his face in agony. "I won't get near you, not like that Sam."
    And with that, Soap stormed from the command room without another word.