Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As April arrived, it brought its trademark tranquillity, evident in the blooming flowers and the vivid colours of the trees. The base was alive with the sounds of drills and the soft hum of conversations, as the staff enjoyed fleeting moments with their families during their service. However, the daily bustle was slightly overshadowed by the lieutenant's unexplained absence. Having gone unnoticed at the base since the previous day, it was a detail that Soap observed with growing unease. This concern took hold of him, an emotion he concealed from the inquisitive looks of his comrades.

Soap approached his good friend Gaz and whispered, "Gaz, mate, have you seen the Lt?" Gaz shook his head. "No, I haven't. I even asked Price, but he just mentioned that Ghost was on leave." This puzzled them both. "Why would Ghost be on leave? He wouldn't even take time off if he were sick or injured. Gaz, what if something's wrong?" The Scottish man was visibly worried; Ghost was never ill, and even if he were, he wouldn't take personal leave — that was common knowledge on the base.

"Soap, calm down," Gaz replied soothingly, reassuring his younger friend, "I'm certain Ghost is alright; he's tough and can take care of himself." Gaz's words seemed to reassure him. "He's probably visiting family or something trivial."

Soap inhaled deeply, "Right, he's fine. Thanks, Gaz, I needed that. I'll head back to assist the recruits. Catch you later." They exchanged a supportive pat on the back before parting ways. Despite trying to focus on other things, Soap couldn't shake the thought of Ghost. He sensed something was amiss, yet he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

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Price inclines to be at his desk, diligently addressing urgent paperwork with the comfort of a beer and cigarette close at hand. Yet, he recognizes that such an approach would disregard the mental and physical welfare of his team—a notion he finds unacceptable. As a result, Price finds himself persistently rapping on Ghost's bathroom door, coaxing him with gentle persuasion to emerge.

"Ghost! Open the Fucking door! Right fucking now! Open the Goddamn door!" He raised his voice, hammering on the door with urgency. It was an understatement to say he was worried; his deep concern for each team member was significant, and Ghost's persistent mental health challenges only intensified his apprehension.

"Simon, open the door," Price implored with a gentler tone, careful not to heighten the distress. "I'm concerned about you. I don't want to resort to calling Laswell. We're in difficult times, I understand, but please let me help. Open the door, Simon."

The sound of a lock clicking was heard, and Price hastened to open the door. Inside, he discovered Ghost—Simon—curled into a ball, weeping, his skull mask removed and tossed aside in the corner. Price swiftly shut the bathroom door to prevent any onlookers from witnessing the lieutenant's vulnerable state. It was unlikely anyone would come by; they were all too frightened to approach his room, deterred by the possibility of Ghost's outbursts.

"Simon, Simon. Look at me, son. Look at me," Price urged in a soothing tone, reminiscent of a father comforting his distressed child, despite Simon being only five years younger than the captain. Simon raised his eyes to meet Price's, his eyes bloodshot, his complexion pallid, with trails of tears marking his cheeks—some faded, others fresh. The tear stains conceal scars that never faded, serving as a reminder of his hidden skeletons.

Price observed the mirror, now fragmented into countless shards, dispersed over the sink, the floor, and Simon's bloodied knuckles. Blood smeared the scant remnants of the mirror and its frame, adhered to the sink, and stained the glass fragments littering the floor. It was a hue all too familiar to Price, and one he dreaded to find on his comrade's flesh.

"Simon, do you want to get up? I can help fix up your knuckles," Price offered, but got no response from Simon. "You nonverbal right now?" Simon's eyes lock on to Prices. Price saw the dead look in his eyes. His Right eye looked like a forest had died, the hazelnut brown looking dead and colourless. His left eye was like an ocean filled with too much plastic, the fish no longer being able to live in the dark conditions it once called home.

He blinked twice, that was all the information Price needed, he grabbed the first aid kit and a broom.

The captain quickly swept up most of the broken mirror to make a small pathway, and sat in front of Simon, who wasn't curled in on himself as much as when Price first walked in. "Let me help you with that." He grabbed one of the bloody knuckles and began to clean it with a disinfectant wipe. Once that was done, he began to bandage the knuckles up, making sure Simon wouldn't hurt himself again, or at least not hurt his knuckles or hands again, and then he repeated the same prosses for the other hand. 

"Come on, let's get you into bed," Price offered a hand for Simon to grasp, and after a moment, the blonde-haired man took it with shaky movements. Price carefully guided Simon to his bed and helped him settle under the sheets. "Look, son, I'm sorry for yelling earlier, but I was afraid you had hurt yourself badly or worse. Remember when Laswell found you unconscious? I didn't want that to happen again. I'm sorry." He didn't receive a reply, nor did he expect one.

"Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?" Price inquired. Simon nodded, and soon fell asleep with Price's hands soothingly stroking his hair.

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"Soap!" Gaz called out to the Scottish sergeant, he turned around and nodded, "What ya need Gaz?" Soap spoke, walking closer to the coloured man."Have you seen Price? I have to give him some files that Laswell asked me to fill in. She says I need to give them in as soon as possible." Gaz spoke with urgency, "No, I can't say that I have. But can you just put the files on his desk?"

Gaz shook his head at the idea, "His office is locked, it's like he hasn't been there all day. And I know he has some important work to be doing." Soap paused before replying, "That's odd, both Ghost and Price are missing." Gaz huffed, in response.

"What?!" Soap said like a moody teenager and crossed his arms, "Well..." Gaz started before pausing, "I just think that you're overthinking the situation. Ghost is fine and the cap is probably just having a smoke break." Soap shook his head and nodded, "Yeah, you're right, Im sure Ghost is fine and is on holiday or something. Yeah, I'll see you later." And the two went their separate ways again.

Chapter Text

Simon awoke and swiftly donned his balaclava, concealing his blond hair and the numerous scars on his face, leaving only his unusual eyes visible. He was Ghost once more, not Simon. He was a ghost. Rising from the bed, he dressed in his uniform. "I'm not Simon. Simon is dead. I am Dead," he repeated to himself while traversing the extensive corridors, toying with the bandages wrapped around his knuckles, the relics of the previous night's escapades.

Ghost went into the cookhouse, where breakfast was being held, and quickly grabbed his food, he made sure it was kosher and sat down next to his captain. 

"Ghost," the older man said, taking a bite of his meal.

"Sir," Ghost responded, pulling his balaclava below his nose to take a bite of his eggs.

Price spoke up, "How are you feeling?" Receiving no reply from Ghost, Price continued in a hushed tone, "You injured yourself yesterday, gave me quite a scare." Ghost grunted in response, "Noticed the bandages this morning, thought you'd come to my room." Ghost rarely remembers what happens during his episodes and prefers not to know, but he's aware that Price or Laswell check on him if he's unseen for over a day. "I was about to call Laswell; you went nonverbal, and I suspect you punched the mirror."

"I'll clean it up later," Ghost declared between bites, his ravenous appetite betraying the two days he'd gone without food. Price chuckled, cradling his coffee cup, "No, let me handle it. I don't want you injuring yourself again." Ghost let out a groan but offered no resistance. They remained silent until two sergeants arrived, their plates piled high with food, engaging in light-hearted banter.

"Soap, Gaz, it's good to see you're not just lounging in bed," Price remarked. "No, Laswell mentioned last night we have a mission debrief, though I'm not sure what it's about," Gaz replied with a shrug. Meanwhile, Soap was already indulging in his meal, eating heartily. "Wait, we have a mission lined up? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Ghost interjected, clearly perplexed. "Hey, Lieutenant, did you enjoy your PTO?" Soap's remark was lost as Price talked over him, "Indeed, we have one at 1100. And you're well aware of why you weren't briefed."

Ghost continued to grumble yet persisted with his meal. 

Soap and Gaz were relentless in their efforts to elicit an explanation from Ghost regarding his absence over the past two days, but he maintained his silence. Thankfully, Price quickly stepped in to put an end to their ribbing. Once they had finished their meals and drinks, they tidied up and Ghost readjusted his balaclava. They then moved together to the meeting room, where they found General Shepard and Laswell in a fervent argument.

"It's suicide! This mission is far too perilous!" Laswell exclaimed, her hands pressed firmly on the table, her stance confrontational across from the seated blad man. "And I'm asserting that the Task Force falls under my jurisdiction. I am adamant they undertake this mission," Shepard retorted with equal aggression.

”What is suicide?” Price asked, stopping the argument between the two adults. “The general wants to send you guys undercover to Mexico!” Laswell explained to the 141. “Now, I did not say that.” Laswell explained huffed. “I don’t understand, why would we be going to Mexico?” Ghost asked, “A new mission!” Gaz and Soap squealed at the same time. 

“I want you guys to go under cover in a cartel.” Shepard stated as if they would agree straight away, no questions asked. “Why? What’s so important that we have to go Undercover.” The captain asked, worried for what might come. “you’ll be working in two different cartels in Mexico, they all work with each other and they are causing trouble in America. I want them gone.”

Everyone paused. 

“I don’t agree with what Cartels your infiltrating.” Laswell finally spoke up, with a shaken breath but she covered up her nerves by turning her head to the floor, hands in pockets. “What are the cartels?” Ghost spoke up, his voice cracking very slightly, but no one could tell…Maybe Price and Laswell but no one else. Shepard spoke up, 

“the Zaragoza Drug cartel.” 

Ghost froze.

Laswell froze.

Price froze. 

“why is everyone freezing up for?” Soap joked, Gaz laughed, Shepards eyes hardened. 

“I thought they were done? Extinct?!” Price began to yell, walking closer to the general, sizing him up. “John! Calm down.” Laswell interfered, Ghost did as well, putting a hand on Prices shoulder, pulling him back. Gaz and Soap stood there, having no clue what was going on, but kept their mouths shut for once. 

“what other cartels?” Ghost said, ignoring what just happened. Laswell put a hand on her hip as she rubbed her temple, “the Las Almas Cartel,” The four soldiers looked at each other. “Won’t Valeria like, know who we are if she sees us?” Soap asked, Shepard shook his head, but Ghodt was the one who answered.

”Valeria will…understand our need to be there…I’m sure were will be fine.” Laswell and Price looked at him confused, Ghost continued, “Valeria is a very understanding person, she’ll let us in. It’s the other cartel I’m concerned about…” the Lieutenant quietened days he spoke. 

“And why is that, Riley?” Shepard asked, “No reason, sir, it’s just our past interactions with Valeria shows that we can trust her. We just have to contact her first,” Ghost spoke without taking a breath. “That is true.” Gaz interrupted the silence, “Yeah, she trusts me,” Soap continued, “She may trust you, but does she really?” Laswell questioned. 

“I don’t trust her.” Price voiced his disapproval. “She trusts me.” Ghost said at the same time as his Captain spoke. Everyone looked at him.

”what?” Shepard looked at the masked man. “Valeria trusts me. She has no reason not to.” Ghost confirms. “Why should she?” Gaz questioned the Brit. “We have a…history…let’s leave it at that…” The blonde muttered, avoiding everyone’s gazes. 

“Right. I’ll send you guys the details, you will get your alias by noon and you will leave for Mexico at sunrise tomorrow. Laswell. You will be the only person they have contact with, get burner phones, and make sure they only connect to yours.” Price, Gaz, Soap, and Laswell nodded at the command. “And Riley, I want you to stay behind.” Everyone looked back at Ghost. “Dismissed.” Price wanted to protest but the look from Laswell stopped him, and he left the room following the two sargents and Laswell, leaving Ghost and Shepard.

—————

“What is your relationship with Valeria?”

”we have no relationship.”

The general raised an eyebrow.

”I highly doubt that.” 

…

”I won’t ask again. What is your relationship with her?”

“We are…we used to work together…” 

“What jobs did you do? Who did you work for? Why did you work for them? Why were you in Mexico? Answer me Lieutenant Riley!” 

Ghost took a step back. “It was during my time as KIA”

Shepard paused. 

“I see. You’ll be going in as yourself then. And you’ll go in her cartel. Dismissed.”

Ghost nodded and left.

Chapter Text

The dawn had not yet broken when Task Force 141 began their preparations, rising at 3 a.m. to gear up for the impending mission. Price felt a tangible unease for Ghost, concerned about the unknown challenges that lay ahead for him. Skeletons in the closet are not easily concealed; they linger and haunt until the end. This is a truth that Ghost understands all too deeply.

The four individuals were seated in a civilian aircraft, three of them undercover operatives and the fourth a stranger amongst them.

"Price, who's the blonde guy next to you?" Gaz whispered into the comms, stealing a glance at Price, who was sitting beside a tall, muscular man with blonde hair, who was sound asleep. Price let out a chuckle, "Gentlemen, that's Simon Riley." Soap and Gaz were taken aback, "Seriously?" Soap murmured, "That's Ghost?" Price gave a confirming nod, and though only Gaz could see him, he spoke gently, "Right now, he's not Ghost," the Captain clarified, "It's a bit complex, but refer to him as Simon when he's without the mask."

Both men acknowledged with a nod, and a hush descended until they touched down, too astounded to utter a word. Simon picked up on the quiet tension through the comms as he began to rouse, slowly coming to as they landed. After the rest of the passengers had left, the four of them got off the plane, retrieving their duffle bags from the storage above. As they set foot on the tarmac, a rough voice welcomed them.

"You guys Mark, Liam, Tanner and Simon? 

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Name: John Price                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Alias: Mark Wilson 

Name: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Alias: Liam Joshep 

Name: John 'Soap' MacTavish                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Alias: Tanner Mostarlik 

Name: Simon 'Ghost' Riley                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Alias: N/A 

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"Indeed, that's us," Price, also known as Mark, confirmed on behalf of the team. The man scrutinized Simon, sizing him up with a canine wariness. "Pleasure to see you again, English," he remarked. Simon acknowledged the comment with a nod, aware of the curious glances from his team. "I'm Lopez, Valeria's trusted lieutenant," Lopez introduced himself with a modest bow. "Mark Wilson," Price began, extending his hand in greeting, only to be halted by Simon's cautioning gesture. "Liam Joseph," Gaz, or Liam, presented himself, followed by Soap, also known as Tanner, "Tanner Mostarlik," he said.

There was a brief pause before Simon introduced himself, though his reputation preceded him, "Simon Riley, at your service." Lopez's grin widened at the introduction, "Ah, English, you've not forsaken your training. That pleases me." Simon remained impassive, and the trio of covert operatives managed to conceal any reaction as well.

"Let's go?" Price asked, Lopez nodded and signalled them to follow, and they did. They soon reached a truck, there's only four spaces in the front, so someone would have to sit in the back." Lopez informed them, Simon nodded and without hesitation got in the back and closed the door, "Simon!" Soap called out but got no reply, "I see English still knows his place," The man smirked, "Get in, ill drive." The three hesitated but got in, and Lopez began to drive to wherever they were headed. 

"Lopez?" Gaz started, "It's Sir to you." Lopez interrupted. Gaz hesitated to continue, "Right, sir, why do you call Simon 'English'?" Soap looked at Lopez as well as the unusually quiet Price, "That is what he is known as around here. It's been a long time since he wet on his little...Adventure..." No one spoke after that, and Lopez kept on driving as if nothing happened.