#capri sun

Sparring was similar to the last time, but now you're paired up with Soap. You're both getting in your stance, knees slightly bent, one leg forward, and abdominal muscles tense. Both ready to fight, but this time without any weapons. Ghost specifically told him to strike first, wanting to see how long you can last or even win against Soap. It shouldn't be a big deal for you, even though he is quite a big guy, full of muscle, and slightly taller than you. You've mostly had opponents your size or bigger in field, and you never really had a problem winning or lasting long. Well, besides one person back in camp.

Soap strikes you first with a sharp jab to your side, but you dodge it quickly, hitting him back. You focus on your technique instead of winning, wanting to be strong against him. He seems to be focussing more on his technique as well, noticing how fast he works and his reflexes are. Your fighting styles are similar; the only difference is how you two use it in practice. While he's using more strength and power, you're trying to be quicker than your opponent and trick them.

You kick against his knee, and land some hits against his weak points, it's hard for him to stay balanced or focused. He huffs and stumbles back, only to rush to you quickly and try to tackle you down. With his amount of strength, it's difficult to actually stop him or dodge, having to think quickly. With a small grunt, however, you're down, with him trying to keep you like that. Your heartbeat speeds up and your eyes widen, your breath hitching in your throat. The position you're in is too familiar; trying to get out of it as quickly as you can. Soap is oblivious, just training with you and having tackled you down, keeping you pinned on the mat. Your brain is quick to handle, pulling out the same moves you did in camp. Soap doesn't even realise he's getting into a headlock by you at first. His back on the mat with your arm holding him tight around his neck, feeling how you're only squeezing him more and more with your bicep. He grips your arm and tries to relax, not wanting to get hurt. Luckily, that's all it takes for you to snap back to reality and let go. You sigh out heavily and stand back up, calming down.

»Ye alright?« He asks you even though he should be the one getting checked up on. You give him a weary nod, clearing your throat.

»Yeah, sorry about that.«

You mumble back and focus on not thinking back to the time in camp. It's almost confusing you now, how similar and suffocating it felt. But you know better than to think back to a time like that and distract yourself in training. Soap tilts his head with a confused gaze.

»What do ye mean? The headlock? Nah, that was sick.«

He encourages you with a thumbs up. You nod, unsure of what to say back. The training continues with trembling hands and more focussing on your breathing than technique, feeling on edge the entire time, thanks to the small trigger. Of course, no one has noticed these signs from you, or at least no one has said anything about it. On the other hand, you're glad no one has noticed your trembling hands and more or less distracted mind during the time.

Once it's over, you're headed to the showers and straight back to your bunk. That was more off-putting now that you're alone in your small room, thinking quietly to yourself about what had happened. You shouldn't feel this way, having thought you were over it a long time ago. Maybe it was something else that triggered you, or maybe you really aren't over it yet. Getting in a pin on the ground was one thing your past rival used on you as much as he could. You don't know the real reason behind his technique, but all you do know is how weird and creepy it felt like.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips once more, slumping down on your bed with no energy. Today's training was longer but not as exhausting as the one at camp. But you still feel very tired for no reason. You close your eyes and try to shut your brain off; instead, a lot of thoughts appear about your rival and that god awful training. You don't know why he's all of a sudden back in your mind. You don't know why you're thinking so much about it, and you don't know why you can't stop thinking about him. He was such an annoying and unpleasant person that you tried so hard to forget about, yet he can't seem to give you peace. Even when you're finally away from him.

After spending most of your day inside your bunk, trying to get your mind off old memories, it's time to actually try and do something about it. With slow steps, you make your way back to the training hall. It's dark out already, forcing you to walk cautiously around and not wake anyone. Eventually, you made it in and looked around for a punching bag… and something to wrap your knuckles with. You don't want to injure yourself after all.

It's dimly lit in the training hall, making it seem more cosy and relaxing. Especially with no one inside beside you. There are five punching bags to use in a row, but unfortunately no bandages or gloves for your hands. It is what it is, and you walk up to one of these punching bags to release some tension and stress. After getting into the stance, you land a few softer punches to get used to the feeling again. Maybe it's because you're alone in here, but it already seems too loud for you. Checking behind you, the double door is closed, so there's no way someone could hear you from their bunk.

You start again, using proper technique, and gradually become faster and put more strength into your punches. The punching bag suffers through your hard punches, taking it like a champ, all the while your mind zones out. Zoned out, all you can think about is your past rival back at camp. You don't remember his name; didn't even bother asking for it back then. But you do remember how creepy and annoying he used to be to you, for no reason. And that's enough for your punches to grow heavier and even quicker, the punching sounds are growing louder through the hall. Maybe your knuckles are hurting at this point, but you don't care. That bastard had no reason to treat you like that, leaving you confused, hurt, and probably traumatized.

It's only then when a gruff voice calls out through the hall, speaking to no one other than you.

»Didn't you have enough training for today?«

You stop in your tracks and turn around, seeing that familiar shadow again. Ghost.

Glancing down at your knuckles, you notice how red they look just from how hard you've been punching that bag for… how long already? You didn't keep track, but it seems like more than ten minutes, judging from your aching knuckles. Ghost has crossed his arms, glaring at you with tired eyes.

»Go back to bed, 's way too late for this.« He adds with a more weary tone and leaves no room for arguments, cocking his head slightly to the side. You sigh out rather disappointed, knowing you shouldn't talk back, but you also can't stop just now.

»But I just started...« You mumble and trail off at the end, already smelling how annoyed he is with you. He shakes his head, being as serious as before.

»I won't tell you again. Don't overwork yourself and go to sleep. Let your body rest. We've got trainin' tomorrow, too.« Ghost is not joking with you, probably being more stern than he needs to be. But he knows better than to let you work too much or stress over something for no reason. In his eyes, you're just a poor child who happens to have this fate and is forced to get along with it on your own. Too much alike himself. Eventually, your shoulders drop in defeat, and you nod in understanding.

»Fine. Sorry about that.« He doesn't respond back and just leaves, most likely going back to sleep, too. After considering his words and contemplating if you should just stay longer in here, you walk back to your own bunk like promised and fall against your bed. It's comfortable and quiet, dark as well.

But you notice a small med kit on your night stand, bandages and a cream for sore muscles beside it. You blink, thinking it's just your sleep catching up on you, but there is indeed stuff for you on that small table. Eventually, you apply the cream on your red knuckles and wrap them up, laying back on your bed. Maybe it really is just a normal base and rather peaceful. Maybe you could get used to this some time.

Having no energy to think any more about that, you fall asleep quite quickly this time. Even if you fell asleep quickly, it wasn’t a good sleep. A nightmare plagued you, most likely because of the trigger from earlier. A grey room with no windows, similar to your old training room in camp, several people around you, and loud noises everywhere. It’s incoherent nonsense, but you still understand everything clearly. The room is cold and rather dark for some reason; it all seems too much, but there’s nothing at the same time. Your body feels numb, and you’re wearing your bandages around your knuckles, some dried blood decorating the usual whiteness of the material. You notice it too late, but Mike has you on the ground already. The ground is even colder against your back, and you can’t do anything but lay and watch. He’s on top, which he often tried to do on you, and has your wrists and legs pinned tightly beside you.

Everything is so loud but also so quiet, it makes your ears ring. There’s a horrible stench of blood and sweat around the air, which makes it hard to stay still and fight back. Your moves are too slow, having no other choice but to stay like this. Your rival, Mike, slashes quickly through your throat, staying on top in a mocking way. It’s hard to breathe, you’re chocking on your own blood and squirming under him helplessly. The whole dream feels like a flashback, but worse. Too quick, too real.

You don’t remember much of what happened next, because the next thing you know is how you’re trying to control your breath and get rid of the sickening feeling from the nightmare. It’s not unusual you get dreams like this, but never to such an extent of being unable to breathe normally.

The digital clock on your nightstand tells you it’s time to get ready for the day. You couldn’t be more thankful for Ghost to lay the training into early afternoon instead of early morning. Because you know they’d notice if you showed up like this to the hall. Still on edge and tired, feeling as bad as you look right now. You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s normal to feel like this, hoping it’ll pass soon. Deciding to distract your mind, you go out to the park with your small sketchbook in hand. Maybe you will feel better in the fresh air while sketching something down that comes to mind.

But, of course, you never have a few minutes to yourself as a familiar figure comes by and stops in front of you.

»Drawing?« Gaz seems curious and tries to secretly subtly into your sketchbook.

»Sketching.«

»Ah. What exactly?« He carefully asks, knowing not to disturb a teenage girl when they seem peaceful at the moment. Gaz has past experience from his own family and friends, knowing how moody some are.

You hesitate to show him what exactly you’re drawing, and you just shrug in response.

»Just… anything.« That was a boring response to anyone, and he still wasn’t done disturbing your peace. He politely asks if he can sit by you for a while, sitting down on the same bench after you accept his kind offer. Gaz isn’t one to pry or mind someone else’s business, but today he’s really curious. Probably, because it’s been three days since you’ve been here and no one got to know you properly. Maybe they should work on their social skills instead.

»You sketch often?« Finally, he’s asking you about your hobbies. And finally, a normal question after years.

»From time to time.« That’s not true, you’ve been drawing since you remember and ever since. Drawing to kill time? Three pages full with doodles. Sketching something pretty? Two pages full with only that beautiful thing you saw earlier. Filling some pages to get rid of the anxiety? Done.

Gaz doesn’t quite believe your answer as well, noticing there’s only three pages left in there. Instead of prying more into it, he changes the topic slightly.

»So, what’re you drawing then? People?«

Without another word, you hand him your sketchbook, deciding it’s easier and probably faster this way. He takes it wordlessly and flips through the pages carefully. His eyes study the way you drew random people and objects, not having expected how good you’re at this. He glances at you before flipping another page, recognising the person almost immediately.

»Soap? You drew Soap?« You look down to his hands as he’s still holding it, seeing he found the first sketch of his teammate.

»I guess,« There’s no way out of this now, seeing he’s actually quite amused about it, »There’s more, actually.«

His smile widens, not having expected to see realistic drawings of his teammate. And there’s more? Today couldn’t get any better.

»More? You like drawing him or somethin’?« Gaz stops talking once he goes some pages forward, seeing some doodles of himself and Price. Even if it’s just some sketches or doodles, they look surprisingly well-made and semi-realistic. He looks towards you again, holding up that book of yours slightly.

»Can you draw Soap with a moustache?« Out of all questions he could’ve asked, he chose this one. Always picking the important ones. You need a full second to process what he’s asking before you find yourself speechless.

»What do I get for it in return?« Now, he’s the one without words. He considers for a moment as he tilts his head to the side.

»Depends on how well you draw.«

It’s then, when he can’t take himself seriously and chuckles.

»All jokes, I’ll get you a new sketchbook. Seems like this won’t do in a while.«

That’s a deal well struck with him. You can’t deny such an offer and start scribbling down a rough sketch of Soap, added with a moustache. Gaz watches the lines on the blank paper slowly resemble his teammate, grinning at the extra facial hair above his lip. It’s a sight to behold, being glad he could make someone draw a silly pic of this even more goofier SAS soldier.

Once you’re done, you show the page fully to him, and he can’t help but laugh at the drawing. Not because it’s ugly, but because it looks so much like him, and a moustache looks rather silly on his face.

»We gotta show it to him later.« You don’t see why not and nod, already seeing how absurd the situation will be later on.

After the more eventful interaction, it’s time for the usual training. This time, there wasn’t any difference in sparring, only feeling more tired than usual because of the nightmare last night. All you four did, was practice in the shooting range and go about sparring with Soap, leading with him improving your technique and showing some tricks. Of course, like no other time, you all went to the mess hall to eat dinner. You would have forgotten about the silly sketch of Soap if Gaz hadn’t reminded you beforehand to bring it over for dinner.

Sitting in front of the two teammates, Soap is laughing so hard that he’s clutching to his stomach. The drawing was really worth it, being amused at the sight in front of you. At least now, you could eat in peace without one particular person trying to get to know you better.

A familiar shadow appears in the corner of your eye, and you instinctively glance over. Ghost is approaching the table… with a Capri Sun? You look over once again, needing to take a double take to reassure yourself of what you’re seeing. And right, there he was, the scary-looking goth with a Capri Sun in hand.

It’s then that Soap also notices Ghost. Eventually, he stays standing next to the table and places the smaller but sweet drink on the table.

»Oi, what’s that?« The still amused scot questions him, as confused as you and Gaz. Ghost clarifies, finally not being an intimidating tree.

»Shitbox got me this instead of wa’er. Some of you can have it.«

Oh, so he can’t deal with a vending machine. If he weren’t your lieutenant, you would have made fun of him. Gaz nods and looks over to you after noticing you shift in your seat slightly. To him, it’s clear who wants it most. He wasn’t the only one noticing it, and Ghost shifts the drink towards you, mentioning it to you. Or maybe he just doesn’t think the two blokes deserve such a sweet drink and let’s you have it instead.

»You can have it.«

He grumbles before leaving for wherever he needs to go. It’s a bit weird to just receive something like this for no reason, especially from someone like Ghost. Glancing around, the two others seem normal about it, or they’re just good at hiding their real surprise. Eventually, you take the Capri Sun and draw in the orange straw into the packet. Oh, it’s cherry-flavoured. Your favourite.

Even when you thought your small happiness wasn’t so obvious, it turns wrong once Gaz speaks up.

»Taste good?«

You nod back in response and relax your expression as well as you can, not wanting to come off as too giddy for a sweet drink as such. They both grin quietly and continue eating with Price joining in after some time to eat beside you three.

----

It’s been a week there, and it feels less awkward now. You train and practice every day, sometimes sneaking in late at night to punch some bags. Capri Sun is something you get more regularly at lunch because Ghost can’t seem to figure out how to use the vending machine. In reality, he just likes to give you a small treat and see your eyes light up for a split second. It’s his small way to befriend you; it doesn’t matter if it seems silly or stupid, you appreciate it, and there’s no harm to it. You could compare it with an attempt to befriend a cat with treats, and it works well. Consider Ghost as a harmless guy who gives you your favourite drink- just because.

Gaz talks to you the most from the others, occasionally checking up on your new drawings and sketches, promising to get you a new one as soon as he can. He likes your drawings after all. He’s easy to talk to as well, having light conversations with you and a few jokes. Gaz is the most friendly and easygoing of them all for one. At least that’s how he is with you, but you’re sure he can be different too. Soap is as friendly as him, but for some reason you feel like you need to be careful around him.

The problem isn’t him, it’s no one’s fault, really. You know he’s just as nice and supportive, but it seems like the pin he did on you is still in your head. They can always out win you in a fight if you don’t pay attention, and the thought of it makes your skin crawl. Ignoring it most of the time, you trust them all equally. It’s better here than back in camp. If you can still call it that anymore.

Being here, made you realise how toxic it was back then. They don’t judge and punish you for making simple mistakes; they won’t even look at your scars twice or ask about them, and most importantly, no one forces you into something uncomfortable.

You feel safer.

Pushing the constant nightmares and headaches away, it really is more safe and peaceful here.

Today, after training, you cross paths with Ghost. You immediately notice that he’s carrying an almost comically large bag in his arms. Taking a closer look, you see it’s dry dog food. Dog food? Why would he need that? You never took him as someone with pets, and you never saw dogs around on base. Thank God you didn’t.

You nod briefly at him and can’t help it but approach him out of curiosity.

»Do you have a dog?«

He grunts, side eyeing you for a moment.

»Just gonna feed Riley. A K9.«

So, they do have military dogs. How come you never saw them? Back in the old camp, the dogs could roam freely on base. But they also weren’t really nice dogs, always barking and ready to attack anyone. Even you were once chased by a large German Shepherd, almost getting bitten if you weren’t fast enough.

You simply nod back, not sure what to answer to that. Of course, he could sense your shift into uneasiness and nudges your shoulder lightly while walking down the base with you.

»You should get to know some. They’re not scary, don’t worry.« That makes it better only for a moment before you fully process his words. There isn’t really a way you can deny his offer and nod slightly, following him wordlessly. He isn’t as talkative either, but you don’t think that’s a bad thing. You’re lost in thought once he speaks up, shifting the big bag of dog food into his left arm.

»Ever met a big dog? Anything?«

You’re standing outside his office as he asks, opening his door with a key while he waits for your answer.

»Kind of. Got chased by one.« He can’t help but pause for a moment at your blunt answer, eventually getting his door open and stepping in. You follow him in and close the door behind you, noticing a bigger German Shepherd sitting up on the ground. It’s tongue sticks out and seems to be happy about seeing you both, judging from it’s wagging tail.

The dog stays silent though, patiently waiting for their owner to give them some sort of permission. You stay standing near the door, watching the two silently, hoping it won’t do anything. Ghost puts the large bag down against the wall and steps closer to the dog, kneeling down as it happily walks to him and enjoys the few hat pats he gives. You watch them both interact, visibly relaxing slowly as long as the dog is near Ghost and gets fed, getting a few more pats from its tall owner. He turns to you and introduces you to the dog, his hand staying on the dog’s back.

»That’s Riley. A sweet girl- will be joining our next mission, as far as I know.«

That’s totally great. Yeah, sure, you could work with a big dog while having a fear of them. You nod either way, shifting on your feet as you watch the dog from the closed door. Riley munches on her food, seemingly content.

»She seems… nice.«

He can see how unsure you are about the dog, and he guessed he would need to get you used to dogs somehow. Ghost sits down beside Riley, nodding towards her.

»You can pet her. She’s friendly, won’t bite.« He is trying to loosen the tension with a small joke, only seeing how you glance at him before looking back at Riley. Eventually, you approach her with silent steps, being cautious of the still-eating dog. You kneel down beside Ghost, firstly just watching her with anticipation in silence. Riley is quick to realise you are close now too and lifts her head off the bowl of food, trying to get to know you eagerly. She takes a step towards you, and you stay still, not wanting to accidentally make her angry. Ghost beside you can’t help it but feel amused watching you be so stiff while also watching Riley to make sure she won’t make you even more scared.

Riley sniffs around the air shortly before leaning towards your hands on your knees, taking a sniff at them. Before you know it, she’s licking at them. You cringe at the feeling, leaning a bit away from her.

Beside you, Ghost grins under his mask, glad that you don’t seem to be scared and more amused at how you react to Riley’s sudden affection. Suddenly, the K9 is trying to lick at your face, but you turn away with a small groan. Ghost pets her on the back, commanding her to sit down for now.

It takes a moment for Riley to fully calm down, her tail still wiggling back and forth. Ghost hands you some treats and wants to show you what tricks this joyful dog can do. Riley follows his commands flawlessly, rolling over, laying down, playing dead, able to stand on her back paws for a few seconds.

You extend your hand to give her a few treats- the small cookies in shape of bones in the palm of your hand. She eats it out of there happily, probably having a blast right now.

Riley is a good dog, even when she wants to give you affection through licking your hand, which mostly feels weird, but overall she doesn’t overwhelm you like the past dogs in your life.

Ghost also seems to be satisfied with the end result, however, he couldn’t let go of your words earlier. Normally, he would mind his business, but this is a sixteen-year-old we’re talking about.

»So, you were chased by one?«

You glance at him shortly, unsure of how to explain it to him now. You try it out, explaining it to him as shortly as you can.

»We also had some K9’s on camp and I was chased by one because I wasn’t careful enough.« You don’t realise how shocking that sounds before he gives you a look of disbelief. He asks again, gently petting Riley behind her ear.

»Your own camp had dogs, and one chased you? Why’s that?« You only shrug in response, not sure yourself. The dogs were mostly trained to be aggressive and were held rather roughly.

»I believe they got extra trained to be as aggressive as possible.«

He only hums out in acknowledgement, letting go of Riley and standing back up. Every time he hears more about your camp it is when he loses five years of his life. You follow right after him, standing up and getting a last glance at the sweet dog.

»Go, get your shower.« He mumbles, reminding you of taking your shower since you joined him after training, finally able to rinse off your sweat. You nod and leave without another word, taking a quick rest before eating dinner in the mess hall.