The Bullet's Mark (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 Fanfiction)

Chapter 8

    The mud felt the heaviest it ever had by the time I'd trekked back to the safehouse. The rain was relentless, coming down in larger drops than before. I was thankful for the parka despite it letting a little bit of moisture seep through.   
    I stowed the rifle under the porch of the front door, setting it on the table there for the time-being. My cold fingers pulled my hood back, hair messy underneath it, and I reached to knock on the door. 
    What better way to come back to them? I knew they'd seen my absence in the hours I'd been gone; the sun was down at this point. Walking in would raise alarm and the last thing I wanted currently was another gun raised to my head. 
    The figure that answered the door was a bulky man with revealed forearms, tattoos laced into the skin there. I raised my chin to meet Yuri's suspicious blueish gaze. 
    "Sam?" there was a curious tone further in the house and then Roach's head poked around the corner. His grin ignited a warm feeling in my stomach as he shoved Yuri to the side. "What are you doing here? Are you staying?" 
    I couldn't help but smile to the younger man. "Till the damn end." 
    If Roach could've squealed, he would have. He charged forwards and hauled me up over his shoulder. Roach brought me inside and spun me around as I let out a chuckle of amusement. 
    "Put me down, would you?" 
    "You're acting like a child Roach," a Scottish accent scolded from the entryway from the dining room. 
    Roach set me down and then felt his shirt, damp from my coat. I smirked and then looked to where Price was joining Soap at the entryway. Yuri had closed the door and faced the group with silence—a habit of his I guessed. 
    "Thought you'd leave for good," Price huffed. 
     I managed to steal a glance at Soap. What I expected was what I got...his look was one of "she should have" and it opened up a flare of emotion I didn't want to deal with currently. Our conversation earlier had been destructive and hurtful. I almost, almost wanted to talk to him about it. 
    "I changed my mind." 
    "You can't change it anymore," Price was firm. "Are you with us for good?" 
    "Yes," I didn't hesitate. "Absolutely." 
    There was a flicker of satisfaction on his face, his lips twitching to avoid a smile. "Good. You're just in time for dinner." 
     With that, he turned and went back into the kitchen area. Soap didn't give any feedback as he followed too. Roach squeezed my shoulder and then went to join. Before I decided to follow, I shrugged off the parka. 
    "You look like you want a change of clothes," the Russian still standing at the front door almost startled me. 
    I didn't trust the history in his eyes as I cleared my throat. "There's nothing else." 
    "There's an old trunk upstairs in Roach's quarters. Might find something in there," Yuri shrugged, moving to join the trio of Task Force men. 
    My gaze followed him as he moved. I knew that to be able to trust him, I'd have to get over my Russian distaste. I was no better than Makarov with Americans if I didn't. 
    I hustled upstairs to find the trunk. It was sitting against the wall closest to the door and I picked through it to find a tighter fitting shirt. I changed out of my top, dealing with my wet pants, and then headed back downstairs in haste. 
    "I want to know how you're alive," Soap was nudging Roach as they sat at the large round table. 
    I perked up as I dished up a steaming bowl of the stew. Roach stirred his share as he pondered the moment, all eyes at the table on him. 
    "As I was trying to escape on the zodiac Sam had set me up with, Shepherd's men fired at it. I had a feeling they'd want to shoot a rocket at it. So I jumped right as the shot went off. I swam for a ways and then did what I had to in order to survive. It was rough, but if it wasn't for Sam," Roach looked at me, hopeful and thankful, "I wouldn't be alive." 
    I ignored the tightness in my chest by sitting down next to Price and Yuri. "You did it yourself Roach." 
    Roach huffed and took more bites of his stew. I smiled to myself and dug into the warming meal. Everyone was busy eating, too focused to notice the aura of tranquility that settled over the room. It was a blissful feeling that led me to pause in a second bite. 
    The Task Force One-Four-One together as a team again... 

A couple hours later, I'd taken a shower and made sure to be the last one up. The others were situated in their rooms as I paced the house. I checked locks and windows, making sure the place was secure before heading to bed as well. 
    Satisfied, I went up the steps in silence. The doors to every room were closed and I paused at the top of the stairwell to make sure they were all settled down for the most part. I held my gaze a little longer on Soap's door. 
    Now or never. 
    I knocked twice, hearing the creaking of floor as Soap crossed the room to answer. His hair was unkept as he opened the thin door. I forced a tiny smile, keeping my voice low. 
    "Can we talk? Please?" 
    He looked as closed-off as ever yet allowed me to slip into the dark room. Closing the door behind me, Soap moved to switch on a lamp for better lighting. I waited for him to face me. 
    "What you said earlier," I paused, "I should've—"
    "What I said was wrong," Soap blurted and I stopped talking entirely. "To mention Blackjack or your father or even the lost was horrible." 
    "But it was all true," I whispered. "What happened is a lot like with what went down during Blackjack. I saw it coming and didn't act quick enough to stop it. I should have. It's my fault Ghost is dead, but we can't change that now. The best thing for us to do is go finish what he was there to do that day." 
    Soap was quiet, studying me as I spoke. I felt tears snag at the corners of my eyes despite telling myself on the walk back to the safehouse I wouldn't cry. 
    Hell, you've cried in front of him before. Let it loose. 
    I didn't hold back the tears as I continued. "The problem has been that I haven't wanted to let myself get attached like before. Blackjack haunts me to this day and the last thing I want is to let it happen again. To do that closing everything off is all I've been able to do, but I realize it's the worst thing. We can't go out there as half-comrades, you know that. It's all or nothing..."
    My rambling voice died off as Soap reached out to cup my jaw. His thumb stroked away a tear and he held my gaze, hazel against blue, firmly. I swallowed and sucked on my lower lip. 
    "You don't have to explain anything," Soap blinked once. "Just stop crying, please. It hurts me to see you like this. You're stronger than it." 
    Hope soared through my chest. I wiped at my eyes, mumbling an apology. "I'm sorry, I just can't believe anything anymore. First I thought you were gone, but you weren't, then the same thing happened with Roach." 
    "I almost was," Soap grew a little haunted as he sat on the edge of his bed, keeping his voice low. "Shepherd got me right here," he motioned with his finger, "still bothers me to this day. I barely remember a lot of it, but I do remember you and Price there to stop him." 
    I had tried my hardest to avoid thinking of the day in Afghanistan. "You were stabbed. I was wounded pretty badly too." 
    Soap nodded in agreement. "I remember killing Shepherd with a lucky throw...I'm sorry...I know he was your—"
    I stood before him now, hushing him with my finger. "Don't you dare say it. You know how I felt about him. That knife is what needed to happen." 
    Soap gazed upward at me. His fingers traced to the outsides of my thighs. I sauntered forward to his subtle command, lowering myself down onto his lap in a straddling way. With a sigh of relief, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. Soap returned the hug just as tightly, muscular arms trapping me at the mid-back. 
    "The only way I made sure I wouldn't let myself go was to think about you," Soap spoke awkwardly. "I know it's rather cheesy, but it's the truth. I thought of you and the times together. How fierce you were. I heard you yelling at me to not give up." 
    I smiled and tucked my cheek deeper into his solid shoulder. "Sounds like me." 
    Soap pulled my head back and then tucked my loose hair behind my ears. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again, understand? We're a team within a team from now on." 
    "I like that," I nodded multiple times. "Us being a team." 
    "It's dangerous to have people you love in this world, to love in general," Soap smiled as he studied my entire face, "but you're worth that danger. Every bit of it." 
    I couldn't say anything else because Soap had leaned upward to carefully press our lips together. I returned the slow kiss in a flurry of excitement and happiness. 
    "Are you saying you love me?" I cocked my head, stroking Soap's neck once. 
    His blue eyes didn't waver from mine once. "I love you Samantha." 
    I felt a tightness in my chest again, a clench in my throat. It felt like my heart had given up entirely, the attack happening in an instant. The dinner in my stomach was churning, warming up my insides like I'd chugged whiskey. 
    It'd felt like ages I'd known this man. Reality proved a few months at most. We'd been through everything and nothing together. We'd fought side by side for our lives in missions and war. He was more than a comrade deep into the nights of our past, more than anything I'd bargained for. More, more, more. 
    I wanted nothing more than him. It was cheesy, unbelievable, and utterly stupid considering the world we lived in. But it was right. He was right. And now, he was mine. 
    "I love you too John."