Chapter Text
You huff out a breath, half from nervousness, and half preparedness. You pat your backpack, which is roughly 2/3 of your body. It’s full of all of your earthly possessions. You pride yourself on being a light traveler. A minimalist.
You hear a knock in the door and answer, “Come in!
Your best friend, Anne, steps in. Her shoulder length blonde hair is pulled into a pony tail and swings with every step she takes, “You weren’t going to leave me without saying goodbye, right?”
You grin, “Of course not. Come here,” you open your arms. She squeezes the air out of you. I’ll miss her, you think.
She pulls away, “I’m incredibly proud of you. And I know your parents would be, too. I can’t believe it, I mean it’s 141?! Who would’ve thought my sweet y/n would be kickin it with the big dogs?”
You just smile and look at your feet, a sudden shyness creeping up on you, “I couldn’t have guessed it either.”
♕
You jump into your jeep, using the momentum to sling your pack into the passenger seat. Maybe you would’ve walked to their building, but it was on the other side of the compound, worth driving.
TK141 was elite. Best of the best. Therefore, they had their own building and their own helicopter. No one was completing missions like them. I won’t really be a part of the team, but at least I can help. At least I can be involved. You’re just glad to be recognized as a hard worker.
You slam the door, trying not to gawk like an idiot as you walk up to the door. You pull your keycard and buzz yourself in, letting it snap back onto its clip. Knowing you have clearance is exciting in itself. You take a few deep breaths. Okay, y/n. You’re cool, you’re calm. It’s just another day.
You pull the door open, stepping inside through the cool AC. Captain Price gave you directions on how to get to his office. You amble through the halls, making a mental map for later. It’s mostly empty, but a few soldiers walk out one door and into another, not paying much attention to you. Finally, you reach his office. It looks like any other from the outside, but one key difference sets it apart. A gold plaque on the door- “Captain John Price”.
Softly knocking, you hear someone clear their throat. You assume it’s him. You also assume that the grunt was in approval. The door creaks open and you step inside. It smells like cigars. While you hate the smell of a lit cigar, the aroma it leaves behind is nearly pleasant.
“Ah, so y/n appears at last.”
“Sorry, sir, I wasn’t aware that I was late.” You know for a fact you aren’t.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, I’ve heard a lot about you, is all. But please, sit.”
He motions to a chair directly in front of his desk and you obey. As you draw closer you smell quite strongly his aftershave. A minty pine. You fold your hands in your lap, using every ounce of willpower to not fidget with them.
“So, y/n, I’ve heard good things about you. Team player, fast and accurate, works well under pressure.”
You fight the urge to duck your head, not wanting to look a fool, “Thank you, sir. I’ll try my best to live up to what you’ve heard.”
He smirks, “Anyway. You’ve got some homework to do.”
Price shoves towards you a stack of files you hadn’t even noticed were on his desk til now. The folds blend together so you can’t tell how many there are. You can tell, however, that some are significantly larger than others.
“Medical charts. Up to you how deeply you want to look at each of them. But i suggest at least a skim. But you can save that for later. Now, a tour.”
Your heart spikes, it feels so real. You wait for him to make a move before standing, trying to be as polite as possible. First impressions matter, especially in a place like this. One wrong move and at best, you have a crappy nickname. At worse, you have a slew of scary soldiers with a bone to pick. You follow Price down a hall and through an open doorway. It almost looks like a warehouse, or a small aircraft hanger. Cement walls, exposed steel beams, and rather high ceilings. You hear noises and look down, finally realizing the purpose of the room. Training Gym.
“And here is where we train. I know you’re the doc, but you’ll be training too.” Price pipes up.
You almost don’t know why he said it, considering it’s not new information. While you might not have specific training for missions, you train like the rest of them. You have an equal chance of being on the field. Besides, you’ve always got to be able to drag a fully grown mans body, maybe pick him up, too. You can’t exactly do that and play pong all day.
Price shouts, “Everybody listen up! This here is our newest recruit, y/n l/n. She’s our onsite medic. Her office is where the last medics was, just behind the free weights. Anything you need, come to her and she’ll help.”
“I’ll try to help…” You mutter. The captain apparently heard you, seeing as how he chuckled. Mercifully, he didn’t relay that bit to the entire room.
“Are you free on Friday?” An obnoxious voice shouts from somewhere you can’t discern. You quirked your mouth, half aggravated, half amused. No one really cared if a rookie private girl who gave you bandaids was free on Friday. But it’s a little bit different now. And you also heard that the people in 141 are more… intense. The very idea unnerves you, seeing as how relaxed you are in general. Well, maybe not these last few days, but let’s not let that dictate anything.
“Shut up, MacTavish!” Price shouted, “Anyway. You’ll have plenty of time to make a horrible impression in the mess hall.”
That garnered a smile from you, and you finally allowed yourself to look down. Your superior nudged you and you walked with him. He weaved through machines and sweaty bodies until he reached the back of the room. A dingy door sat just beside a rack of weights that sat underneath a mirror. Price opened the door to reveal a decent sized room, though by no means luxurious.
To your right was a desk pressed up against the wall, filing cabinets flanking each side. On the right wall all the way to its corner were storage cabinets, a counter, and a sink. Finally turning your head to the left, you see two hospital-style beds and a massage table. The beds were separated by a thin curtain, which felt unnecessary for just a team office. Various medical infographics and posters littered the walls. You set the files down on the desk. Only when you look up are you made aware that where the mirror had been on the outside was a window to you. A double sided mirror.
You looked to the captain and raised an eyebrow, “Um, sir? What’s that for?”
“Form. If you see somebody doing something stupid, you can call them out on it. Of course, only if you’re not slammed with work.”
You nodded your head and then shrugged, “Anything else, sir?”
“Here,” He hands you a map, “Mess at 1700. Barracks are on the map, lights out at 2200. Understood?”
You nod your head, “Understood, Captain. See you at 1700.”
He nods and walks out. From your new desk, you’re able to see him leave. It calms you that you can watch people for a bit and no one knowing. After all, you want to learn who’s-who without looking like a creep.
After staring at the soldiers- all of whom seem to be male, you direct your attention to the files before you. You decide to look at the largest ones first. They’re probably your superiors, and not just that. You’ll probably have to patch them up a lot, if their files are so huge. You take the first large one you see. On the outside, the name is written in black sharpie: Simon Riley. You had never heard of him before. Opening the file, you see a man in a balaclava. The dark fabric has a skull painted in white. Seriously, he doesn’t show his face, even in his medical chart? That’s a hazard! But, it did clarify things for you. He’s the infamous ghost. Lieutenant. You’ve only heard terrifying things about him, but mainly that he ignores everyone’s existence. You sigh, but that’s perfectly fine by you. The less people that care I exist the better. Especially if they’re wearing a skull mask. No skin off my back.
You commit to reading the entire file, slipping your reading glasses on. Every now and again you have to push them back up the bridge of your nose. What you’ve gathered, after laboriously looking through two of the largest files, is that you have no idea how any of these guys are still alive. You briefly wonder if 141 is actually some secret super soldier unit you had no idea about. You finally finish reading John MacTavish’s file, which you now know is who shouted earlier. Thankfully, he didn’t wear a mask. They all called him Soap. Unfortunately for you, they didn’t have any explanations as to how they got their names, so you just had to stay in the dark with that one. You check your watch, surprised to see that it’s already 4:30. Dinner was at 6:00. Can I get away with a visit to my bunk and a shower? You take a peek at the map Price gave you before leaving the office. Room 2, top bunk.
Once you make it, you set your pack down and make quick work of putting your belongings away. You grab a towel and make your way to the showers. Before you enlisted, you couldn’t imagine ever using a shared bathroom, regardless of gender. Now, you really couldn’t care less. You just had to get used to it.
As you walk into the bathroom, you’re surprised to see a large room with separate stalls for each shower. You duck your head and speed walk to an empty stall, trying to escape the shirtless men undetected. Turning it on, hot water spewed onto your shoulders and released the tension you had built up throughout the day. Since you beat the training soldiers to the showers, you let yourself indulge and take a bit longer.
♕
Your hair hung wet and made the green shirt you were wearing spot with a darker shade where it met water. You had tucked your shirt into your pants, leaving any tactical gear off of your belt, of course. It was only dinner. You were issued a gun, naturally, and trained in usage. All that being said, you rarely used it. It was hard to not feel inferior to the men around you based on your skills- but you simply had a different job. You’d like to see them perform emergency surgery on a bullet wound with only a flashlight in your mouth to light your way.
You walked up to the buffet line and pointed at what you’d like. You stocked up on protein and fiber, but had a good amount of carbs, too. Half of proper nutrition was knowing when to eat certain food groups. Dreading the inevitable, you turn around. You look and spot the captain, but decide against it. Who gave you the right? The next best thing was finding an empty table, preferably in a corner. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief once you spot a table just like you wanted. Rushing to claim your spot, you quickly sit down and slide toward the wall.
“Hey!” Someone shouts in a heavy Scottish accent. You look up, humming in recognition. Soap.
“Hiding from me already?” He grins. You want to hate his comments, but they seem harmless and rather lighthearted, so you let it slide.
“MacTavish, right?” You know it’s him, but ask out of politeness. Probably creepy to know you’ve been… researched.
His smile eased, “That’s me, l/n. Read my chart, know all my measurements?”
You stifle a cough, “I think some are missing, actually. Stop by my office, I’ll have it sorted.”
He howled out a laugh, “Oh, she’s gonna fit right in, don’t you think so Ghosty?”
You snap your head up at his comment, noticing as the masked man nears your table. You gulp, he’s scarier in person. “Why are we sitting here? With her?” He doesn’t glance in your direction. You smirk and look down, not in the least bit offended. I mean, you knew he’d be like this. It’s not personal.
Soap shrugged, “Trust me, mate, Price didn’t let us down. She's perfect.”
You quirk a brow, “Perfect, huh?” You didn’t expect to start joking around so soon, but it makes you feel like everything might just work out.
Ghost finally looks in your direction, “Whatever, just do your job, corporal. No one will pick a fight.”
You nod, “Of course, sir. Do you have any injuries you’d like me to take a look at? I can do some therapy on old ones, too.” You didn’t want to sound like a kiss-up, but you just wanted to be helpful.
He grunts, “I’ll come to you if I need something, not the other way around. Kay’?”
You raise your brows and sneak a look at Soap, gauging his reaction. He seems unfazed and shrugs. “You any good at massage?” Soap inquires with a mouth full of food.
“Yes, sir. But only on specific areas for certain injuries. I’m not running a spa.”
He smiles and absentmindedly rubs his knee, “Nah, I know better than to waste a pretty girls time. I’ve got a bad knee.”
You knew that, but you knew everything about them. Every detail of every recorded incident. But that’s the key word, recorded. “Listen, I just want you to know: if anything happens, please check in with me. I’m not here to tattle, I’m here to help. Don’t fight it just because you don’t want to get written up. So don’t worry about it.”
“Respect, y/n. I’ll keep that in mind. I can finally confide in someone that my rear hurts real bad after bunking with Riley.”
I scoff and dig back into my meal. Idiot.
♕
Your brain was tired after so many new experiences, so you decide to settle in early. You brought a few files up with you, as a bit of light reading. Your current confidential read was Keegan, who seemed to have a few less injuries than your dinner partners, but that wasn’t saying much. You fiddled with your dog tags, not even noticing.
Hearing footsteps, you look up, “Oh, hello.”
None other than the object of your study walks in, “My new bunkmate, eh? Don’t toss too much and we’ll be golden.”
You press out a thin smile, “Sure.” You look at the other side of the room, wondering who would occupy the other bed. A few hours passed and a loud Soap stood at the threshold, waving bye to Ghost.
MacTavish walks into the room, surprised to see you atop the bunk, “Y/n! Thank my stars, you’ve been placed in my room. Now I can see two suns when I wake in the morning!”
I roll my eyes, “How many, Soap?”
Keegan laughs from below, apparently keeping one ear open as he plays a game in his phone.
“How many what?” Soap tilts his head.
“Beers.”
He barks a laugh, “Four. Nothing crazy.”
You lay back down, picking up your file, “If I had four I’d be unconscious.”
“Whose file are you reading?” Soap sobers a bit.
You feel Keegan shift and Soap wait with bated breath, “You know I can’t tell you that. Now go brush your teeth, you smell of alcohol.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Not a bad first day, you muse, quickly fading into sleep. But your last thought nags at you. Who sleeps below Soap?