#no beta we die like soa- oh that doesn’t work here

[thorougly-melted-brains]

Simon finds out Soap is alive a year later. It doesn’t feel real, some defense mechanism kicking in as soon as Price admits it. He’s still drifting when days later, after a plane ride he barely remembers, he’s led to a hospital room.

The building is unassuming, civilian, big enough for amenities but not in a major population center. It’s perfect for harboring a dead man, Ghost notes distantly.

The nurse has barely opened the door when he hears him, it, because it has to be a trick. A gruff voice and creaking laughter he’d resigned himself to never hear again. He’s surprised his legs carry him through the door.

Inside is a phantom of Soap, softened by time but obviously aged. His hair has grown out, choppy and curling, sloppily pinned back from his ears. It’s barely morning, winter again, the early light makes him shine like an idol. His hair glints in the sun, including a few new white strands.

He looks at Ghost, flecked with silver and gold, and Ghost all but collapses. He’s knelt next to the bed before he knows it, hands clasped, eyes blurring. Soap grabs Ghost’s hands in one of his, his face in the other. His hands are chilled slightly, but softer. His callouses have deteriorated, no gun to roughen them.

Ghost accepts that he’s real.

Soap tilts his head up, and looks down at him with bright eyes,

“Miss me, LT?”

#months late to the fix it train #:b #no beta we die like soa- oh that doesn’t work here #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #writing #prompt #cod mw3