fanfic_goblin

Sometimes Kyle would stop by too. Initially Aderyn assumed he was a thoughtful and soft spoken person, but she soon learned he could be just as excitable as Soap. Otherwise, he remained friendly and had a manner of speaking that disarmed tension before it could linger. More than once Aderyn realized he had gotten her to lower her guard, which felt terrifying if she was honest with herself. Kyle never gave any indication that he was being anything but genuine though so she tried to put it out of her mind. Maybe he could even be someone she called a friend if she had enough time to get to know him.

The biggest issue she faced was what would happen next. Well, there were other worries too, but most of them led back to her uncertain fate. Neither Price nor Laswell had stopped by after the interrogation and while it was likely because they had a lot going on, Aderyn had no way of knowing for sure. Not that she wanted to see them anyways. Regardless of her feelings, she knew how the military worked, and unless she was granted proper clearance out of the blue, she wouldn't be told anything. In a way, this situation felt no different from the prison - the waiting, the all consuming helplessness, and especially the knowledge that her life was in another person's hands. She hated every bit of it. They couldn't keep her in limbo forever, but how long must she be kept wondering?

At least she could see Soap whenever she liked. As dark as the days seemed, he continued to exist as the one good thing in her life. He seemed to have made it his life's goal to get a laugh or at the very least a smile out of everyone he met, and he was usually pretty successful too, although Aderyn thought she might just be an easy target. He liked to tell stories as well, even if they seemed a tad embellished at times. However, the more she listened, the more Aderyn began to suspect that Soap wasn't used to having a captive audience. She could never get tired of seeing how happy he got whenever she asked about various details or follow up questions. He had lived an interesting life, even before the military, and it only made her want to learn everything she could about him.

Perhaps she was becoming a bit obsessed with the Scottish man. The notion made her feel incredibly embarrassed, but what else could it be? Even though she had only known him for a short while, she already felt strongly about him, more so than anyone else - old high school boyfriend included. She needed to get hold of herself and soon, or someone might start questioning her mental state more than they already had been.

After being locked in survival mode for years, it became apparent that her mind didn't know what to do now that the danger had passed. Aderyn couldn't help replaying conversations in her head or analyzing each person's expressions after every interaction, worrying she made a mistake and upset them. What were they talking about behind closed doors? Surely nothing good; nothing was ever good. Any one of the staff could be a danger as much as a help. She knew she was silly for thinking like this, but taming the paranoia that had been her reality for so long seemed like a monumental task.

It didn't really help that she had limited ways of distracting herself. In the past she might have been able to go to sleep when all else failed, but even that was becoming a problem. Sleep came easily enough during the first week as the healing process took a lot out of her, however now she had too much energy and no real outlet to burn it. While the doctor still had her under strict orders to rest, he encouraged her to get some exercise - which mostly meant taking a walk through the halls in the medical wing for an hour or two every day. Except that wasn't enough and when she couldn't visit Soap, Aderyn felt she had little choice but to pace circles around her room. This method tended to yield mixed results though. Sure, it would burn enough energy to allow her to get a few hours of sleep, but it reminded her too much of being imprisoned, plus she received concerned looks whenever the nurses made their rounds. She would need to find new distractions and quickly or else risk going mad.

On that note, Aderyn had a feeling she should find a therapist of some sort, if not for the anxiety than for her nightmares. She already tended to be a light sleeper, to the point that every little noise seemed to wake her up, and her brain spontaneously deciding to conjure up bad memories didn't help. She despised being plagued by imaginary terrors, especially when those bastards were dead and couldn't hurt her anymore. She should be getting better and looking forward to picking up her life again, not worrying about things she couldn't control.

Maybe taking back some of her agency would help? She didn't have a lot of options, but there had to be something she could do.

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For Johnny, being stuck in bed felt like a prison in itself. Not only was he reliant on the medical team for everything, but even if he could leave, he was still banned from any training or physical activity. He had been lucky that Price only gave him a scolding for disobeying orders, apparently deciding he had suffered enough already. As stubborn a man as he was, Johnny knew better than to push his luck twice. So for now, as much as he hated it, he had no choice but to let his body recover.

Not everything was so bad though. For one, he had plenty of company. As much as Gaz liked to tease, the lad knew how to make him forget about his frustrations, even if their conversations tended to consist of football or the cute nurse on staff. Ghost also stopped by, although his visits tended to be more sporadic and at odd hours. Johnny suspected the lieutenant had somehow convinced the nurses to let him in after visiting hours were up. They didn't talk a whole lot, didn't need to really, and most of the time it was about various developments around the base anyway, but Johnny liked to think it was Ghost's way of caring. Secondly, the food wasn't half bad either. Even if being in the military hadn't trained any pickiness out of him, the menu almost made him consider finding ways to get hospitalized more often. Almost. He would sooner take cafeteria mystery meat over being bed bound like this. The third and best thing was that he got to see Vireo- Aderyn every day. For a week after being rescued he hadn't heard from her, and while that didn't stop him from asking about her condition, he had begun to think she didn't want to see him. He was wrong of course, and he couldn't be more glad for it. Despite this, it still frustrated him that he had to wait on everyone to come to him.

Laying in bed all day gave him a lot of time to think, mostly about Aderyn, although he would rather get kicked in the nuts than admit to it. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her standing there for the first time. He hadn't expected her to be young - they were probably pretty close in age actually - but what struck him the most were her eyes. They looked to be warm brown, sort of like honey, and while he could see how scared she was, her eyes seemed to radiate defiance. In fact, he had to admire her refusal to be intimidated by the guards, stubbornly keeping her chin held high before they were both marched to that room. He couldn't really explain why but in that moment she seemed...beautiful. It wasn't so much about her physical appearance, but rather how she carried herself and how concerned she had been about him, even jeopardizing her own well-being. He wouldn't have blamed her if she chose to keep her head down - probably would have been better off if she had - but even now she insisted on sticking by him, almost as if she knew the prison didn't leave just because he had.

The room seemed to feel less dull each time she came to see him. The moment Aderyn opened that door, Johnny could swear the lights turned a warmer shade. He felt comfortable around her in a way he normally didn't with people he barely knew. Perhaps it was because she seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say? She tended to let him steer their conversations, adding her own thoughts where appropriate, but occasionally asked questions of her own too. Johnny didn't really mind, although he couldn't help wondering if she was a quiet person or just didn't like talking about herself. He had tried to get her to open up a few times, but she turned out to have a knack for dodging his inquiries and redirecting the conversation. That was alright though. It took two years to wear down Ghost, and his lieutenant was the most closed off person Johnny knew, surely he could win over Aderyn in half that. If anything, he suspected his natural charm was already working since she didn't seem to find him annoying yet.

Just can't mess it up now-

Against his better judgement, Johnny couldn't help but stare when Aderyn stopped by for the day. In the hours since he last saw her she had gone and shaved off half her hair! He didn't want to assume she did it in a manic state - he'd seen women do it before - but well, he wouldn't blame her either considering how long she had been imprisoned. If anything, he wished he could do something similarly dramatic.

"You cut yer hair?" he blurted out.

"I did, felt like I desperately needed a change." Aderyn shifted on her feet, furrowing her brows with uncertainty. "Do you think it's too much?"

Previously she had worn her hair in a single braid, which looked good in Johnny's opinion, but little pieces always seemed to fall out or stick up at odd angles no matter what she did. Now she sported a slightly choppy undercut and had trimmed the remaining black locks down to a more manageable length. It was certainly an unconventional choice, but once her hair had a chance to grow out a little, the rough parts could be  fixed up if she so chose.

Johnny almost wanted to laugh. "Ye're talking to the guy wi' a mohawk, asking if yer hair's too much?" He motioned to his own rather unkempt mop and managed a dry chuckle. "Naw, it's a whole new side o' ye I didnae ken before. I like it."

Aderyn smiled at that. "Thanks. I'm not usually so spontaneous believe it or not." Johnny didn't for a moment but kept the thought to himself.

As the Canadian crossed the room, Johnny's smile faltered. While Aderyn was still choosing to use a cane to get around - she said her knee gave her trouble some days but was getting better - his gaze narrowed in on her face. The dark circles beneath her eyes seemed deeper today, suggesting she hadn't slept well the previous night, although his attention was more focused on the facial cuts. The deeper ones still looked angry and raw, but thanks to the medical staff's efforts they were at least healing well. They would probably stick around for the rest of her life, however the smaller ones may fade enough to be barely noticeable if she was lucky. Perhaps they would even look cool, if she was into that sort of thing anyways, but Johnny didn't know many women who were.

"Is everything okay?" Aderyn asked. Her brows were pinched together with concern as she paused next to a chair by the bed

"Yeah, 'm good." Johnny mentally cursed himself for worrying her. "Feel like I should be asking ye the same thing."

She let out a small huff as she sat down. "Never better."

"Sure about that?" He indicated her new hairstyle with a jut of his chin. "This seems a bit sudden, eh?"

"Listen." Aderyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You'd be desperate too if you hadn't seen a barber in four years."

Johnny chuckled and shook his head. "Fair, although I start to go crazy if it's been more than a few months."

Her eyes flicked over his scalp before she pursed her lips in thought. "Feel free to say no," Aderyn started to say. "But I could help freshen up your own hair?"

So it really was as bad as he thought, huh? Johnny had a feeling Gaz had been lying about the state of his hair yesterday but didn't call him out since he had no proof. Without easy access to a mirror, he could only go off of touch alone and that tended to be deceiving.

"Depends how many times ye've cut others hair I suppose," he answered, running his free hand through the tattered locks.

"Ah, well, that would be never. I've seen how its done though, and I just buzzed half my scalp so it can't be that hard." Aderyn chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Eh, maybe forget it. I'd hate to mess up and leave you looking half sheared."

"Actually, I could talk ye through it," he said, perhaps too eagerly.

Aderyn seemed genuinely surprised and stared at him for several long seconds. "You're seriously willing to risk being ridiculed by your teammates for a haircut?"

"You only live once." Johnny flashed a bit of a cheeky grin before adding, "They already give me grief ev'ry chance they get anyways."

"Well alright then. I'll be back in like five minutes, don't move."

Aderyn was already out the door before he could tell her he couldn't even if he wanted to. While she probably wasn't gone for longer than minute, he evidently followed her order a little too well if the look of surprise on her face when she returned was any indication.

"You must really want this haircut," Aderyn teased as she deposited the supplies on a nearby table.

Johnny must have taken too long to answer because she glanced over her shoulder with a mildly concerned expression. Oh, now he was staring too. He blinked and quickly looked away, feeling the heat of embarrassment colour his face.

"Aye." Brilliant, she'll think you're a proper idiot now.

Aderyn made a sound of clearing her throat. "Right," she murmured while shaking out the spare towel she brought. "Last chance to back out. I won't be upset if you change your mind, okay?"

Shaking his head, Johnny couldn't help cracking a bit of a wry smile. "Naw, I'm no' chickening out on ye, hen."

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a slightly confused look although shrugged it off moments later. Did he say something strange? Or maybe it was the latest term of endearment he'd taken to using? He admittedly had a bit of a habit of coming up with nicknames and such for people he liked, but she probably would have said something if she hated it. Best put a pin in that one for later.

After draping the towel over Johnny's shoulders to keep loose hair clumps from irritating his skin, Aderyn took a moment to figure out what she would be working with. Even though his hair had grown out quite a bit since the last time he'd seen a barber, he knew there was still a pretty clear distinction between the longer strands of his mohawk and everything else.

"Is it alright if I touch you?"

The question surprised him more than it should have. "Thought that would be a given," Johnny responded. When Aderyn gave him a blank look, he couldn't help but find it amusing. "Ye can touch me all ye like, no need to ask fo' something like this."

Are you gonna make me beg too?

Aderyn rolled her eyes. "Well excuse me for not wanting to be presumptuous…" The sarcasm in her tone only served to make Johnny's smile grow larger.

By the time she got round to the actual haircutting part, Johnny could tell Aderyn didn't really know what she was doing. She definitely knew some techniques but had no clue what the various clipper attachments were for. He didn't blame her though because he only knew about women's hair care thanks to growing up with younger sisters, and even then he was only passable at best. Regardless, he didn't mind explaining how the attachments were used and Aderyn seemed to appreciate the tips if the loosening of her shoulders was any indication. He did have to give credit where it was due though because she learned quickly.

Through a handheld mirror, Johnny watched as the Canadian worked. Once she got used to the feeling of the clippers in her hand and he stopped having to give so many instructions, she seemed to become engrossed in the haircutting process. Perhaps it was the ease with which the clippers could pass through his hair, or maybe she enjoyed sectioning the longer strands of his mohawk away from the rest with a comb. Either way, Johnny had to admit it also felt immensely satisfying.

When was the last time someone had cut his hair like this? He tended to go to whatever barber shop wherever he was stationed, or more often than not do the job himself when he needed a trim. Before that he barely remembered when his ma used to cut his hair as a lad. Regardless, it was always something he had to get done, whether for regulation or to keep up general appearances, but none of his previous experiences exhibited the amount of care as Aderyn was right now. Despite being inexperienced, she truly seemed interested in helping him and that meant a lot more than she could know.

Speaking of Aderyn, Johnny found himself in the perfect position to study her more closely than before. He wasn't trying to stare, but with having to stay still so she wouldn't accidentally nick him, he didn't have anywhere else to look. Her eyes were easily the most lovely part of her face in his opinion. He would love nothing more than to study them for hours, although she would probably dislike it if he did. Now, what he didn't like were the cuts, specifically the one that Russian bastard carved into her right cheek. While Johnny would never say Aderyn looked ugly, the resulting scar would always be a reminder of the prison and his personal failure. In his opinion, she didn't deserve to be haunted by what happened for the rest of her life. Unintentional or not, he was secretly grateful for the chance to look at her this closely without feeling like he was being creepy.

Then Aderyn's free hand pressed against his forehead. Evidently she couldn't quite reach and without hesitating Johnny acquiesced to her silent request and bowed his head. The boldness of the gesture was surprising but not unpleasant since he generally enjoyed physical touch. Unfortunately, it had the unintended effect of putting him at eye level with her chest. For a moment Johnny froze, unsure whether he should pretend not to notice or do something to get her attention, preferably without making her feel self-conscious.

Before he could decide, Aderyn seemed to realize the predicament Johnny was in. Her breath caught in her throat and she went very still, although she thankfully had the sense to move the clippers away from his head. When she met his eye, her cheeks turned a bright pink, but she didn't immediately freak out like he expected. Rather she seemed to pause; her eyes flicked across his face and her expression turned to one of tentative curiosity.

What is she thinking about?

Aderyn's gaze drifted from Johnny's eyes to his lips and his heart skipped a beat. Then her eyebrows pinched together, and Johnny realized she must have noticed the small but jagged scar across his chin. All at once he felt like a fool since she seemed to have gotten as caught up in studying him as he had her.

Her lips moved, mouthing what Johnny thought was the word illegal. Now thoroughly confused, he broke eye contact, feeling his face flush with heat. Since when did he lose his composure like this? He glanced down towards the bed, although with Aderyn still so close, he thought better of it and quickly adverted his gaze again.

His reaction seemed to yank Aderyn back to reality and she quickly retracted her hand. "I- I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking!" she stammered. Hanging her head in shame, she shuffled around to the side of the bed so that she wasn't hovering over him anymore. "I'll... I'll just work from over here."

Now Johnny felt bad. He didn't mean to upset her, if anything the whole fiasco seemed like an accident, but she immediately jumped to blaming herself. He needed to say something, apologize, make a joke - anything to make her feel better.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, pointedly trying not to make direct eye contact with each other. Only when Aderyn finished the first side of his head and moved to start on the second did Johnny clear his throat. "Are ye alright?" he whispered, voice sounding slightly hoarse.

Aderyn nodded, still refusing to look at him. "Yep! Totally fine," she chirped.

"Wasnae trying to stare…"

"Well it's not like I gave you any other option…"

Johnny exhaled slowly. "The last thing I want is to make ye uncomfortable. It's important to me that ye know that, hen."

Aderyn locked eyes with him through the little mirror for a moment. Chewing at her lower lip, she turned away and resumed shaving his head, possibly in an attempt to distract herself. "Let's just…forget it ever happened, okay?" she muttered.

Johnny only responded with a low hum. Completely dropping the topic didn't sit right with him, but he knew if he kept pushing, she would become more upset. So, he gave in and let her continue cutting his hair.

Putting the clippers down, Aderyn brushed away a couple loose pieces of hair before combing through his mohawk to get it to sit correctly. Rather than switch to another blade head, she chose to use scissors and trim the remaining hair by hand. It would take longer this way, but Johnny didn't mind so long as the haircut turned out even at the end. Once satisfied with the length, the Canadian stepped back to examine her work, motioning for Johnny to turn his head from side to side in case she missed any spots.

"What do you think?"

Johnny tilted the hand mirror this way and that, even running a hand over his scalp before smiling up at her. "I think yer pure dead brilliant wi' those clippers."

Aderyn chuckled, already moving to pack up. "Aw, anyone could cut hair..." she murmured.

"No' well. Ye did good, hen."

She blushed and shook her head. "And I bet you would say the same thing if I gave you a chop job, eh?" Johnny opened his mouth to protest before shutting it when she narrowed her eyes at him. "My point exactly…"

~~~

Hey! This is my first attempt at a Call of Duty fic, so if you liked it, I would massively appreciate reblogs as it helps a lot. Your support means the world to me! Thanks for reading this far if you did.

“It's too late for that, John.” Kate's tinny, clipped voice filtered down the landline receiver in Captain Jonathan Price's cramped office. The phone clutched between his ear and shoulder as he fought to not grind his teeth.

The large man slowly rested back into his worn leather chair as he went through the motions of preparing a much needed cigar. Of course, Kate Laswell would know about his team's plight before he even got around to properly asking her for assistance. Brows pinching together, “... meaning?” he exasperated, cockney tone equally as clipped.

“You've pushed the board past their breaking point, John. This is the seventh GOOD medic that's requested a transfer out of your team... Did you think they would turn an eye forever?” The rather tired Station Chief held no hands as she laid John's predicament out to the man.

“I've kept them at bay for as long as I could, but you know every unit needs a dedicated medic. You can't expect me to convince the higher ups that dedicated field care isn't a requirement of highly trained task forces. They want their assets taken care of for as long as possible.” The woman sighed as John lit the end of his cigar and listened. One thing he'd learned to do quickly into his military was to know when to keep his mouth shut. This is one of those times.

John could only manage a grunt in reply as he took in a mouthful of smoke and braced, a hair's breath, into his chair. Of course, he knew that he couldn't keep his men hidden from the demands of the higher-ups forever. Knew they wouldn't stand for the unit's break in protocol and regularity. But the part of him that wasn't the Captain, that wasn't the hardened soldier, had hoped they had had more time.

He can practically hear the woman roll her eyes through the phone as he fails to provide a proper response. “... Clarke, I can understand, John. He was too bullheaded to handle Ghost on the best of days, but Taafee was an exceptional soldier and a top-tier medic! What could your men and you POSSIBLY be doing to make them fold in under a month!? A month, John! That's not even enough time to properly acclimate to base.” Kate doesn't relent in her questioning of her, typically collected, colleague behaving like... like such a schoolboy.

As concerned and perplexed as John feigned to be for his superiors, he couldn't convince Kate that he didn't know how his men were pushing out medic after medic. No. Kate had known him for too long, worked with him for too long to convince her that he didn't know how his own men operated. Taking a drag of his cigar, John released a rush of air and smoke through his nose as if he were some dissatisfied dragon. If he were truly honest with himself and Kate, he would acknowledge that his boys, and him included, often drifted into their own small universe together.

Sometime after all of them had sat down and finally had ‘the talk’ regarding their budding relationships with one another, Gaz and Soap having had to drag the other two into doing so, John had realized that they all were drawn to one another. Not just in the sense that their highly specialized set of military skills drew them all together. No. They sought one another out after hours of training recruits, between practice at the gun range and dinner in the mess hall, when reports were due and they didn't quite feel like being alone while rushing to write it, and when there was just nothing left to do for the day.

Whether his boys noticed themselves, well, he wasn’t completely sure. But he'd noticed the team unintentionally forgetting about the string of additions to the taskforce over the last year and a half. Unless it was directly related to the assignment set before them, they all still gravitated around one another. Having built orbits circling each other as their intimacy grew and having functioned as a four person task force for years made it hard for them to remember to include new additions to the team.

Some part of John wished it was something more petty, that it was something he could easily correct but… this was purely unintentional.

The team had its habits, not that that would be a justifiable reason for Kate. “You know how the lads are, Kate, bullheaded. The whole lot of ‘em. The soldiers they've sent over just haven't meshed right with the team,” he replied stiffly, like the words didn't feel right coming off his tongue. An uneasy silence settled between them as the call turned into a quiet standoff, both of them waiting for, hoping, the other to give in and comply.

“Mesh right?” Kate questioned incredulously, tone skirting the realm of chastising, “It shouldn't matter if they mesh well! You're all trained professionals. What matters is if they can save your lives.”

”We can save ourselves, ‘don't need a bloody medic to compress a wound or use a disinfectant packet.” John managed to defend between puffing on his cigar. His free hand drummed an agitated beat along his desk.

A short bark of a laugh comes down the line from Kate, both of them well aware of how paperthin his rebuttal was. “John. A medic would have stopped Soap's head wound in Los Almas from being so touch and go.” The American says flatly but not unkind. The unfiltered reminder of Soaps’ almost death rattling him in a way he hadn't expected. Conversation dying up on his tongue.

They had dealt with Johnny almost dying on them during the fiasco that was the Los Almas joint assignment. Ghost and Gaz had been inconsolable, Christ. He'd been barely able to hold it together between attending debriefings and staying vigil outside Soap's hospital room. And now they were finally settling back into their old rhythm only for it to be upheaved.

As the silence lay between them once more, Kate continued, “I won’t sugar coat it, John..” Not that she ever sugar coated anything in the years he’d known Laswell, “... the Brass is at its wits end with the sheer amount of medics that have transferred out of the task force. So much so that there is talk of disbanding the 141 until one of your boys is certified as a field medic..” The implications of that hanging between them, thick and cloying in John’s lungs like the cigar smoke already there. That would entail one of them being sent off to receive their nursing degree at a civilian university… meaning they would be disbanded for at least three years… four to five if he factored in the shadowing done in active hospitals. Enough time for the Brass to reason that the 141 wasn't needed anymore once one of the men had the education. Enough time to divide his lovers into new units and away from one another permanently. His mind spiraled through possible outcomes, none of them realistically positive.

“Kate…” John started in, about to ask for even a sliver of assistance, something to give him time to find a way out of the situation. Only to be cut off by Laswell as she offered a proverbial hand, "That's why you’re going to accept my recommendation for a medic with no complaints,” it was firm, an offer out of the hole he had let his team dig, that he couldn't refuse.

John's mouth opened as if he was going to quip back, but his voice fell short. This wasn't the time to have a proverbial dick measuring contest with his colleagues over who was going to take control of the situation. Chewing on his ego, he acquiesced, “Alright… send over their file.” Putting his men above his pride, he listens as Kate hums pleasantly and informs him that his new medic will be there in two weeks. Two weeks to somehow convince them all that this is what they needed, whether they truly wanted it or not.

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