#ghosts 2

Fandom: Call of Duty - Ghosts

Ship: Logan/Keegan, Kick/Hesh

Length/Rating: ~3K, Mature

Tags: Post-Canon, Prisoner of War, Rescue, Aftermath of Torture, Non-Verbal, Food Issues, Recovery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

Logan shivered as he watched the sky darken, small stars beginning to dot along the night sky. He pulled his arms closer to his body, placing his hands in between his legs, his feet tucked tightly underneath him. The thin scraps of linen that made up his shirt and pants, combined with the dampness of the mud he was laying on, were a poor defense against the chill of the night. He peered up at the sky, and wondered if there may have been a time where he could put a name to the shapes that were painted in front of him. Some nights he had flashes of memories of going out into the woods, with who he thought was maybe his father and brother. But when he tried to look closer at either man, their faces were a blur, no discernable features, no recognizable expressions. Their names were lost, along with whatever the name was for the big spoon in the sky. Logan wasn’t sure if the memories were a curse or a gift.

Finally got the go-ahead to release this fic, which was a contribution to the @codfanzine!

:3

BANG!

“Protection”

June 30th - 10:16

Ghost Team Safehouse, Las Vegas, Nevada

Captain David “Hesh” Walker

The sound of bullets being fired and paper being torn echoed through the weapons range. Having not slept the night before, Hesh was practicing his aim with a selection of different guns he had taken from the armoury.

Again.

The talk he had with Merrick a few nights ago still weighed heavily on his mind, and he couldn’t bring himself to sleep it away and forget his problems. I mean, he’d had soldiers missing, he had to look for Logan, how could he rest at a time like this?

His thoughts were, once again, interrupted by a sensation on his shoulder. It felt warm. It felt calloused. It felt like a hand. Merrick’s hand, to be specific.

There was a soft, almost undetectable squeeze from Merrick, and Hesh relaxed for a moment, before tensing once again and preparing to fire his weapon.

After some silence, Merrick spoke.

“You aren’t gonna stop, are you?”

Hesh didn’t answer.

With a defeated sigh and a final, more noticeable squeeze, Merrick removed his hand from Hesh’s shoulder and crossed his arms. Another shot rang out, and the gun was steadied once again as Hesh prepared for the next.

“We have a mission later, y’know. Something about protecting a city.”

At that, Hesh stopped. They normally didn’t protect cities. He lowered his gun and turned his head to face Merrick.

“Where’re we going?”

“Caracas. Seems like things’ve gotten better since the last time I was there.”

“Or worse.”

“At least we ain’t swimming through the damn place.”

“When do we have to leave?”

“Few hours yet. You can keep shootin’.” Merrick teased.

********

The journey to Caracas itself was plain and uneventful. Being honest, Hesh thought it was a great thing. From what he’d heard, Caracas had managed to recover from the flood they had years before and was actually a well-built city now. Which made it all the more confusing on why they had to, quote on quote, “protect” them.

But from what he‘d also heard, they recently had an increase in, again, quote on quote, “suspicious activity”, which could’ve been why they were sent there, but Hesh was still confused either way.

Soon they landed, and Hesh poked his head out of the helicopter.

The harsh sun blared down, and he had to shield his eyes with his arm. Tall buildings penetrated the skies, wispy clouds dancing past.

Also dancing past was Merrick. He stood next to Hesh and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome to Caracas, kid.”

He hopped out of the helicopter and took a few steps forward, before crossing his arms, stopping and admiring the view. He looked almost…happy, to be back. Almost.

“Y’know,” he called out, “It looks different since I was last here.”

“Maybe that’s because last time you were here everything was drowning.”

Hesh trailed after him, stepping out of the heli and moving to stand aside Merrick.

“So, run me through it again. Why are we here?” Hesh asked.

“To put it simply,” Merrick started, “after the whole ‘Kill Almagro’ thing, Caracas was throw into a state of despair. All the flooding, safely evacuating civilians, rebuilding infrastructure, re-establishing commerce, it was a nightmare. For the most part, they managed to do quite well, provided they had help from other countries. Protection is where we come in. As the government’s been busy dealing with the flooding and rehoming hundreds of thousands of people, gangs, groups and everything in between has settled in the rubble and is making some hefty profits reselling materials to those who need them. Our job is to protect building sites, help out where we can and maybe stop a gang or two if we feel like it. Make sense?”

Hesh didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. He did have one question though…

“Why do you know all this?”

“…That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

At that, Hesh walked off. He trudged through the streets, eyeing the buildings as he went past them.

He kept walking until he saw a man waving his arms, trying to call him over. He went over.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” The man cried. He lowered his arms and fiddled with his shirt sleeves almost nervously.

“…hi. We’re here for the protection job?”

At this point, Merrick and the others had caught up, and were watching the interaction between Hesh and the man.

“Yes! Yes, you are.” The man turned and pointed down a road. “Down there, to the left. There’s a security building nearby, but…obviously that’s not enough.”

Hesh followed the man’s finger and crossed his arms.

“Security building, you say?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hm. Kick, you’re on cameras.”

“Copy that.” A new voice rang out. Kick strode past them and headed down the path towards the security building.

The man was about to continue, but a faint rustling was heard. Hesh signalled for him to stop and turned his head towards the noise. All he saw was an alleyway. It was probably just a- what just went past?…

The soldier’s eyes narrowed in confusion and his head turned as much as Rorke’s hand would allow him so he could face his superior. “I’m sorry, sir?”

Rorke spun the soldier’s body around so they were facing each other, his hand still firmly grasping the other’s jaw.

“You heard me. I fought tooth and nail to wrangle his ass and get him to where he is today. Without me, he wouldn’t have brought us that intel, and your men wouldn’t be on that mission. Everything is there because of his training. The training I gave him. Do you realise how hard it was to mold him into what he is now? You and your pathetic men wouldn’t be here without him. Without me. So don’t give me that “I’m sorry?” Bullshit, because you and I both know that without him, and without me training him, we’d be dust.”

Rorke spun the soldier back round so that he was facing the screens again. The scene had shifted, and the sniper was on another cliff over watching ground patrol as they drew closer to what had remained of a downed airplane, the place where they had found the enemy they had previously been chasing before.

“Anyways,” Rorke started, “This isn’t about me. This is about him. Look at him. The technique, the skill, the precision, it’s… it’s perfect. The ultimate weapon. Think about it Lieutenant, killing Ghosts was easy enough before, now it’s easier. We’ll find them and when we do they’ll be gone before they have a chance to attack. ….We’ll be right where we should’ve been years ago.”

A silence filled the room. The soldier didn’t know how to react to that. Thankfully, he didn’t need to, as Rorke quickly changed the subject onto what had brought the soldier to him in the first place.

“Let’s go have a chat with our friend, hm?”

Rorke hobbled over to the door, picking up a long stick leaning against the wall to the side. He shot a glance to the soldier, who was watching Rorke with the same caution from earlier.

“Come on.” Was all Rorke said, before he walked out the door, daring the soldier to follow. He did.

The walk through the ruins was quiet. The crumbled walls and debris-ridden floors were painful reminders of battles that had occurred years prior. Weeds and roots had sprouted from cracks and crevices between the bricks, invading the hallway. Rorke strode through the hallways with an air of superiority, and eventually they reached a door. A cell door. The soldier run up to the door and unlocked it, and Rorke pushed the door open.

The view that met his eyes was a view he had wanted to see for years.

A Ghost.

But not just any Ghost, one of the best Ghosts Rorke could get his hands on. The Sergeant.

“Keegan,” Rorke began, “still not willing to give anything up?”

In return, Keegan scoffed.

“I’d rather put a bullet through my brain.”

“You would? Shame. …I might have to do that for you instead if you don’t talk…” Rorke stalked closer to the bound man, circling him like a lion ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey.

“Y’know,” he started, “You’ve been here, let’s say, 6 months, and your little ghost friends still have yet to find you? It almost seems like they don’t want you back…”

Keegan’s eyes followed Rorke as he walked around him, and they narrowed as the man stopped in front of him. Rorke used the end of his make-shift cane to tilt Keegan’s head back via his chin, forcing him to look at the other.

“Final chance.” Rorke spoke, with more sternness than he had shown previously.

“Either you speak, or it won’t end pretty.”

Keegan simply responded with a sly smirk after a few seconds of silence, the smile through his mask. Rorke’s face tightened in anger and he took the stick away.

“Fine. I gave you a chance.” He took a step back, and from the holster on his outer thigh, he pulled out a handgun, his MP-443 Grach from years prior. With his free hand, he held the gun and pointed it at Keegan’s forehead.

“Sergeant Keegan, it was nice knowing you. Things could’ve gone a different way, but you made your choice.”

A wave of dread flooded Keegan’s mind almost subconsciously. He struggled against the rope tying him to the chair he was on and looked at Rorke with a sense of desperation.

“Wait, WAIT-“

“…To be honest, I’m not sure how much I believe in it myself. It’s been 7 years, we should’ve found him by now. …First dad, now this, I…I don’t know what to do anymore, Tom…” He ran a hand down his face, his brows furrowing.

Merrick’s expression softened and he pushed himself off the doorway, taking a few steps forward before stopping and crossing his arms. An awkward silence filled the room, and then he spoke.

“You remind me of Elias.”

Hesh’s eyes narrowed in confusion and he looked up.

“How?”

“He told you ‘bout him and Rorke, right? Before all the “Ghost Killer” stuff?”

“…Yeah?”

“This is how he acted afterwards.” Merrick gestured towards Hesh. The confused look in Hesh’s eyes mixed with an anger at the mention of Rorke, and his eyes narrowed more.

“…Don’t look at me like that,” Merrick growled, “The point is, your dad was a thoughtful man. He cared about everyone in his team, including Rorke.”

Merrick went quiet for a moment, before scoffing.

“The man eventually accepted the fact that Rorke was dead at the time, but he fought tooth and nail to try and convince us that he was alive. …Like you.”

The confusion in Hesh’s eyes was replaced with more anger and a hint of resignation. He looked down once more.

“You’re not helping.”

Merrick sighed and walked closer, striding across the room in a matter of steps. He clapped a hand onto Hesh’s shoulder and give him a small shake.

“Look at me, David.” The sentence itself was a simple one, but it held a commanding undertone that Merrick had mastered years ago. Hesh reluctantly looked up at him.

“I’m not going to stop you if you continue to try and find Logan. Hell, I’ll help if you need the extra pair of hands. Just…don’t come crying to me if what you find isn’t the answer you hoped for.” Merrick gave him a look that carried an almost fatherly concern and gently tapped his fingers against his shoulder.

After another awkward silence filled the room, Merrick removed his hand from Hesh’s shoulder and stepped back. He turned and walked towards the door, but before he left, he stopped.

“Goodnight, Hesh. …Get some kind of sleep tonight.”