Putrid Blog

His breath came sharp and uneven, fingers tightening into the blanket like he was holding onto something that wasn’t there. His body was rigid under the thin sheet, shoulders tense.

A muffled sound slipped out of him—half breath, half protest.

Then he jerked upright.

The movement was sudden enough that the metal bedframe creaked quietly beneath him.

For a moment, Ghost didn’t move.

His chest rose and fell too quickly. The room around him looked unfamiliar in the dark, shadows stretching across the walls in strange shapes.

It took a few seconds for reality to settle back in.

Barracks.

Base.

Safe.

Across the room, another bed shifted.

Soap pushed himself up onto his elbows, blinking through the darkness. “Ghost?”

Ghost didn’t answer.

Soap could just barely make out the shape of him sitting on the edge of the bed, head lowered, one hand pressed to the back of his neck.

Soap swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Ghost?”

Still no answer.

Soap rubbed a hand over his face and stood, crossing the room quietly so he doesn’t wake anyone else.

When he got closer, he stopped a few feet away.

Ghost’s shoulders were tight. His breathing had slowed a little, but not by much.

Soap didn’t push.

He just leaned back against the wall beside the bunk. “Bad one?”

Ghost exhales slowly. “...Yeah.”

The word was quiet, rougher than usual.

Soap nodded. He understands. It happens to them all sometimes.

Memories didn’t care if the mission was over.

From the other side of the room came the faint rustle of sheets.

Gaz sits up in his bed, fully awake.

“You two trying to hold a meeting at three in the morning?” he murmured.

Soap glanced back, moving in front of Ghost. “Go back to sleep.”

Gaz ignored him and got up anyway, padding across the room.

When he reached them, he didn’t ask questions. He just sat down on the edge of the empty bunk across from Ghost.

The moonlight hit just enough for them to see each other.

Ghost had both hands braced against his knees, staring at the floor.

Soap shifted his weight off the wall. “Want some water?”

Ghost shook his head.

A few seconds passed in silence.

Then Gaz spoke softly. “Mission stuff?”

Ghost hesitated. “...Not exactly.”

That was enough explanation for them.

Soap rubbed the back of his neck.

None of them needed details. They all carried things from before the military, too.

Gaz leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Breathe,” he said simply.

Ghost gave him an unimpressed look.

Soap smirked slightly, rolling his eyes. “Oh, bloody hell, we got Doctor Garrick over here.”

Gaz didn’t react. “Works though.”

Ghost let out a slow breath.

The tightness in his shoulders started to ease little by little.

Soap glanced toward the door to make sure they hadn’t woken Price. “Imagine the captain catching us having a support group,” he muttered.

Ghost huffed softly.

It wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was close.

Progress.

Gaz noticed and leaned back slightly. “There we go.”

Eventually, Ghost leaned back against the wall beside his bed, arms folding loosely.

Soap stretched his shoulders.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “Crisis handled.”

Gaz stood.

“You’re welcome.”

Soap pointed at him. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I told him to breathe.”

Ghost looked between them. “…Both of you shut up.”

Soap grinned. “That’s more like it.”

Gaz climbed back into his bunk.

Soap lingered a moment longer, making sure Ghost had settled. “Try to sleep, mate,” he said quietly.

Ghost nodded once.

Soap returned to his own bed, pulling the blanket over himself again.

The room slowly went still.

Breathing evened out.

The barracks returned to silence.

But this time, it felt a little less heavy.