#soapmw2

Soap’s hands were trembling. His knees ached where he sat hunched on the floor, though he made no effort to move. It was as if he was a deer caught in the headlights, encountering something he knew he was never supposed to see.

All because of the polaroid in his hand.

Soap honestly had no intention of stumbling upon the photo, planning to only rummage through Ghost’s closet, looking for a pair of boots the man said he could borrow. The two had made progress in their… friendship in the last few months, enough that they felt comfortable letting the other borrow their things from time to time. Hoodies, tea, throwing knives - it was all easy to give up if the other wanted it.

So when Ghost eventually noticed Soap’s boots were barely within regulations, the pair hanging on by the smallest of threads, he subtly let it slip that he had an extra pair in his room. Glossing over the fact of how he knew Soap’s size when he said the other man could help himself to them whenever he had the time.

Before long, Soap found himself walking down to Ghost’s room with an extra pep in his step, still baffled by the fact the lieutenant trusted him enough to let him in. Not just in his room, but in his life.

When he arrived, Soap entered using the spare key on his lanyard- another recent addition- and got to work scouting for the pair of shoes. It always amazed him just how neat and orderly the state of Ghost’s room was kept in. Everything always in the same spot when he visited, like there were a million unspoken rules on where each thing belonged.

… It was cute.

Before he got too distracted, Soap figured it would be best to begin his search in the closet, quickly squatting down to dig around for the item. Unlike the well-kept nature of the rest of the room, Ghost’s closet was a mess. Sure, his uniforms and gear were pristinely hung, but underneath?

Underneath was very clearly where all of Ghost’s more personal effects went.

Soap made a mental catalog of it all as he moved medals, awards, certificates, and even some souvenirs out of his way. It was sweet, in a way, to see that Ghost hadn’t completely gotten rid of things that gave him his rightful recognition, things that may have once brought him joy. Even if they were heavily out of sight, Soap felt happy that they weren’t completely out of mind.

After a few minutes of rummaging through foreign belongings, Soap managed to locate a shoebox that was lodged in the back corner. Having to nearly fight with every other object to get it loose enough to slide forward. He didn’t think twice about throwing it open, wanting to double check that they were in fact the boots Ghost had mentioned. After all, what else would a shoebox contain?

What he had not expected to see, in any capacity, was the immediate flow of papers that sprung out from the box as soon as the lid was removed. Soap examined the contents with confusion and curiosity - torn photos, ripped documents, old notes, children’s drawings…

It was clearly a box that the lieutenant kept his ‘Pre-Ghost’ memories in.

The prospect of new boots was promptly shoved to the back of his mind as he fought the urge to dive into the small box. Not believing the gold he had stumbled upon. Yet, at the same time he knew how wrong it would be to go through Ghost’s things, not wanting to do something that would so clearly betray the man’s trust.

So Soap went to close it back up, gently scooping up the papers that had fallen out. If anything, he’d bring it up to him later and ask if they could go through some of it together. The pieces that Ghost felt comfortable having on display, anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time that the two held chats about their past, swapping stories back and forth regarding their lives before they met.

As he was grabbing the last stack, though, a photo caught his eye. An old, black and white polaroid of a man in fatigues, sitting on the floor in front of a Christmas tree as he looked up at a kid on his shoulders. The kid was young, still in his toddler stage, and Soap was immediately drawn to the smiles on both of their faces.

How they looked at each other with nothing but love and adoration in their eyes.

Soap brushed his thumb over the photo, gently wiping over the older man’s face. It was Ghost, he realized. He was embarrassed by the fact he didn’t notice immediately, especially since it was so clearly Simon.

Sure, it looked as if he couldn’t have been in the service for more than a few years —his face devoid of any major scars or marks— but he still had all of the features that Soap was smitten with. His crooked nose, his jawline, the softness in his eyes…he was beautiful.

Soap was so caught up in seeing a young Simon Riley for the first time that it took his brain a moment to remember that there was a child in the photo. A small kid on Simon’s shoulders that bore a striking resemblance to—

Wait, who was he?

It was hard to believe that they could be siblings. Too many of his prior conversations with Ghost had centered around the Scot’s own family and his relationships with his siblings, and not once had the man ever brought them up.

And if Soap had a younger sibling like that kid, a giggling mess that looked at Simon like he hung the stars? Soap would never shut up about him.

But who else could he be, if not family? The two looked so similar it was almost frightening, and he knew that if Ghost was to show him a picture of himself from his childhood, that kid would be staring back at them.

A thought came to Soap, then. One he wanted to immediately dismiss, though it made more sense the longer he thought on it. It was the only other explanation he could conjure up at that moment — and with how secretive the nature of their work was, of course Ghost wouldn’t mention his existence. Part of the reason the man hid his face was to keep his identity safe.

Of course he would want the same for his child.

That was the revelation that had his hands trembling. That had him shocked to his core as he brought the photo closer for a better look. It had to be his child - the resemblance was too uncanny to assume otherwise.

Why wouldn’t Ghost tell him? Soap knew it was a selfish question to come to mind, and sure, it made perfect sense from a safety perspective… but it still hurt. Everyone was entitled to keep their secrets, but Soap and Ghost were more than just colleagues to each other.

They shared nearly everything, so why wouldn’t Ghost have trusted him with that secret?

Soap’s eyes stung as he tried not to take it personally, but then he thought about the implications of what the child would mean. He felt stupid for only now suspecting that it was possible for Ghost to have a spouse. Even if they weren’t married, it was highly probable that the man was certainly not as available as Soap was led to believe.

The thought of flirting with Ghost over comms, months spent teetering on the line between friendship and more — all while Ghost already had someone special waiting for him back home? Soap felt bile rise in his throat.

He was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t hear the door click open. Only noticing that he was no longer alone once a pair of legs entered his field of view.

“Strange, I don’t recall any pair of my boots looking quite like that, Sergeant.” A familiar voice rang out.

Soap jumped at the sudden noise.

Fuck, he was caught.

He felt no better than a kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar— if the jar was extremely personal and entirely off limits. He had no time to hide the evidence, though. All he could do now was own up to what he saw, and hope that Ghost didn’t notice the rogue tear track on his cheek.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Soap started in lieu of a greeting, still on his knees as he looked up to the masked man who stood over him. He tried to go with a neutral enough statement, though his mind was conjuring up so many opinions on the topic.

Ghost crouched down next to him, making himself comfortable on the ground as he gently took the photo from Soap. His thumb softly tracing over the young boy’s face in a manner not dissimilar to what Soap had done to Simon’s.

“About what?” Ghost settled on after a moment. Soap noticed how the man’s eyes never left the photo, a foreign expression stuck on his face…one Soap had never seen on him before.

Longing?

“A kid, Simon. Were you ever going to tell me you had a son?”

Ghost’s eyes flicked up to him, then. The two making eye contact as his brows pinched together.

“Not my kid, my nephew.” He corrected, the sentence delivered in a monotone voice with as little words as he could muster. Evidently not providing any other details that could help his case.

“Bullshit,” Soap found himself snapping before he could stop himself, still trying to wrap his head around everything. “You’re a liar, LT. Not once have you ever mentioned having siblings, and I’m pretty sure you need one of those to have a nephew, yeah?” Soap phrased it as if he was joking around. Well, mostly joking. It was an attempt to use humor to cover up the offense he still took with Simon still not letting him in on such a big part of his life.

“Just because you haven’t heard of them doesn’t mean they don’t exist, Soap.” Ghost’s tone grew a protective edge to it, reverting to calling the other man by his call sign.

Fuck if Soap knew he needed to stop pushing, but… this was important. He didn’t need answers, but he wanted them. Maybe if he was a better man, he would’ve stopped himself, but if the two were ever going to be ‘more’, he wanted to know about his family. Especially when Soap doubted he would ever get the opportunity again.

“I find it hard to believe you’d keep something that big from me, Si. After all this time?” Soap tried again. Christ, did the man really have an entire family that he knew nothing about? Did Gaz know? Did Price?

“Learning everything isn’t always what it seems, Johnny,” Ghost sighed, the fight seemingly leaving his body as it morphed to dejection.

“C’mon, LT. Try me, I can keep a secret.” Soap encouraged, continually trying to persuade him.

“Dead, Soap. He’s dead. They’re all dead, just drop it.” And… oh. Soap regretted his actions as soon as he heard the blanket desperation in Ghost’s voice.

“Oh, shit, Simon I-” Of course, that was— what was he even thinking? Asking a question like that? It made so much since now, after he stopped to think for a moment. Why was it that as soon as he picked up that photograph, the rational side of his brain just disappeared? Simon never talked about them because they had passed, and Soap had gone and opened that wound back up.

Soap’s hands now trembled for a different reason, for the fact he had upset the man. He didn’t even have a valid excuse, the entire situation was one of his making.

How could he ever fix things?

“Can you…Could you tell me about them?” Soap asked, hesitant for the first time that night.

“Johnny, I-” Ghost’s voice sounded wet and unsteady. Wrong choice, MacTavish.

“Shit, wait no- don’t. You don’t have to answer that, Si.” He immediately backpedaled. Soap was two seconds away from getting up and leaving. Completely embarrassed that he had mistaken his nephew’s identity, and upset that he had let such a small detail supersede the boundaries he knew Simon had.

“Joseph loved planes.” Ghost mumbled after a few minutes of silence, sniffling twice before scooting over to Soap. He took a breath to center himself before shifting his body so they could look at the polaroid together.

“See there in the picture? Couldn’t pry that bloody wooden toy out of his hands. When it was time for dinner, we had to bribe him with candy to let it go. Tommy—his dad— would always joke about how Jojo would become a pilot before we’d know it. But he was… he was the light of my life for a while there.”

Soap could see the crow’s feet in the corner of Ghost’s eyes, how he was smiling down at the photo with sad eyes. “I adored him.”

“He seemed like he was a great kid.” Soap said, and he meant it. He could almost picture it, the child rambunctiously running around the house, clutching the plane for dear life as a younger Simon chased him.

“Oh, he was the greatest,” Ghost whispered.

“I wish I could have met him.” He mused, wondering what it would have been like. Unashamedly imagining how he’d fit in with Simon’s family in another life.

“He would’ve loved you, the absolute menace you are. Pretty sure we’d have to keep the both of you both on leashes.” Ghost’s chuckle came out wet, but it still made Soap light up, happy to cause a reaction like that despite the circumstances.

“Yeah? Well, it seems like you were a great uncle, too.” Soap looked over at the man when he didn’t respond right away, worried that he had gone too far. That he had crossed a line by directly mentioning his old status. But then-

“...I miss it more than anything.” Ghost admitted in a small voice, leaning into Soap as he looked at the polaroid a moment longer.

The two spent the rest of the night on the floor, Ghost retelling stories of his ‘Uncle Simon’ days, and Soap asking a million questions about it all. He learned that it had been years since the lieutenant had talked about his family willingly, though the man reassured him that it was…nice to have someone that he could share them with. Like he was keeping their memory alive.

At some point, when dawn had crested through the curtains, the two had migrated to Ghost’s bed - coherent conversations morphing to exhausted mumblings as they mutually fell asleep on top of the covers.