Chapter Text
There was something to be said about the difference of bases in different countries, Soap mused.
For one, there was definitely the food. Almost anything was better than another MRE, no matter how indistinguishable some sludge could be, but sometimes there was real variety in what was offered. Local foods could be a real joy.
For another was the way he and his fellow 141 were included in the day to day regimen. On foreign bases it could go both ways. Either they were mostly left to their own devices, guests to be ogled and whispered about, listened to should the need arise, or they were brought into the daily going ons as far as possible.
Las Almas had been a nice change of pace in that regard. The Vaqueros had made their facility feel almost like a home with their open welcome, loud music and lively chatter. It had made tearing it apart to get to Graves and Valeria all the worse.
Rhythmic steps brought Soap out of his musings, and back to the now.
Being on British soil, but not at their home base, often meant that Soap had to partake in certain duties, not that he minded those. Patrol being one of the ones he most often gleefully accepted. One could only be cooped up for so long, before pacing the borders of a base like a caged animal became a nice sounding activity.
The two soldiers of the current patrol Soap was meant to replace came around the bright lit corner of the bunkhouse, steps sure but underlined by a relief to finally be switched out.
Soap grinned in his gear. "Look 't that. Still in one piece I see?"
One of the soldiers snorted in answer, Falk if Soap remembered his name correctly. Both came to a halt before the Sergeant, saluting quickly as an afterthought.
"Sadly no trouble today, sir. Maybe you'll have more luck," Falk reported with a grin of his own.
"Well, wouldn't be the first time." Soap had some fond memories of what he had stumbled upon during patrol. One hint, bored men on a bland base could be a fun combination.
"By the way, where's your partner?", the other soldier asked, tugging at his vest. His eyes went over the brightly lit square of asphalt, searching for any sign of who would be joining Soap on patrol.
Soap didn't remember his name, one week not having been enough time to fully get to know all his current bunkmates in between his other duties. He would have to change that later.
"Aye, therein lies the first snag of the evening," he meant ruefully. "As far as I know, Private Tom had an unlucky fall just an hour ago. Currently holed up in the infirmary to get it checked out."
Falk shook his head. "Of course that buffoon would break something just before patrol." He looked around again. "Where's the replacement at?"
Soap shrugged shoulders. "As far as I know, there ain't one. Too shortterm and all that."
"Think you'll be alright sir? Or should one of us join you?"
At Falk's suggestion, they both tensed slightly, waiting to see who would be so unlucky as to be chosen. Soap could only chuckle good-naturedly. "Naw, don't worry. I'm a big lad, I'll handle it. Ye both just get to yer bunks, ain't gonna tire ye out even more before the drills tomorrow."
The two soldiers sagged immediately at the prospect of not another few grueling hours of just walking around. Especially if it would cut into time they could have for themselves.
After a few more words exchanged, the two trudged away further through the maze of houses and facilities, lost to the corners of concrete and glass.
Soap sighed, watching until they were gone. His smile slowly slipped away as he was left under the bright shine of a nearby lamppost. Then he made his own way through the base on his lonesome.
Eyes sharp but stance relaxed, he went through the route he had mentally marked down as his for the night. Weapon in hand but secured, vest bearing down every step with a familiar weight on his shoulders. Until he could be relieved himself, this would be his routine for the next few hours.
Not the worst, since as a sniper Soap could lie in wait hours without movement, had trained himself to be able to do so. But still, he lacked anyone to point out the brightness of the moon to or joke about the poor attempt of the cook who had tried his hands at something new during lunch. It had been a disaster on everyone's palate.
Being completely alone at night, walking quietly through the maze of streets... It could almost remind him of Las Almas. The faint shots echoing over from the last few stragglers of the outdoor shooting range weren’t helping that image. No screams luckily.
Soap swallowed, tensing, but keeping his breathing even as he suddenly spotted some movement. He only marginally relaxed when he fully recognized what it was.
A platoon returning to base after some late drills, still in their military gear. The Union Jack on all their tac vests, clear for Soap's trained eye to see.
Soap nodded at the few men who spotted him while offloading, before walking briskly away from the bustle of movement back into the quiet. He kept half an eye out over his shoulder the next few corners to help calm his lingering unease. Some tension remained.
At least it wasn't raining.
A burst of static that had Soap jerking internally, before his radio gave a short report. Nothing unusual. Soap checked in himself, but left it at that, not feeling up to leaving a joke for the unfamiliar voice at the other end.
Maybe he could look for Ghost after his patrol?
The other member of 141 had arrived at the base only just today, back from another solo assignment. Plans were that they would both link up here and continue together to their next destination. The continuation of their journey was in about a week's time, if nothing popped up in between.
Soap gave a silent huff. With how the 141 operated, the chance that something came was higher than normal. Not that he minded a little excitement.
But, it couldn't hurt to try and look for Ghost as soon as his patrol was over. Soap already knew a couple of haunts the Lieutenant could disappear to, checking up on them on the slim possibility he was there would be worth the familiar company.
Mind made up, Soap continued his stroll. He kept himself busy trying to memorize every corner, every building, to make sure on his second round he could compare to see if anything was amiss. The activity he found here and there flagged the longer he went, the base slowly coming to a rest in the deepening night. Only the other patrols stayed steady, all of which Soap acknowledged with a nod of his head before continuing on his own route.
It was very dissimilar to how some of the other bases Soap had visited operated, but those were always installations in or close to crisis areas. There, activity rarely or never flagged.
Though, even here on British soil, the slightest reason could send the base back into a flurry of movement.
The crackle of a comm made Soap report in again, listening to the other patrols checking in as well with nothing of note. He definitely wouldn't be the reason the base went on high alert, if the night continued like this.
It was however halfway during his second round, that Soap felt the tickle of the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He blinked, continuing his normal pace, but letting his eyes jump around his immediate vicinity, searching.
There were no hints as to what made his heart increase its beat, but not one to ignore his instincts, he still kept a lookout for anything unusual. Though nothing caught his eye. All was the same as his round before, or at least seemed that way.
In the back of Soap's mind a suspicion slowly formed.
When even after the length of another warehouse there wasn't anything tangible for his gut feeling to latch onto, Soap decided to test a theory.
He stopped his movement next to the concrete corner, looking around more obviously. Bright lights with dark shadows in between filled the area.
Nothing.
Soap's head continued to prickle with slight unease. His shoulders were stiff under the feeling. He didn't like it, his former tensions magnifying his unrest even more.
As a last resort, he asked into the darkness, "That you, Lt.?"
A foolish hope, a part of him clamored desperately for.
There was no immediate answer.
Only because Soap was holding his breath, did he hear the faintest rustle of cloth behind him.
He snapped around. Weapon at the ready, pulse ratcheting up with a spike of adrenaline. But his finger hadn't even touched the trigger, before he was relaxing again. The sight of a familiar skull mask calling for an immediate instinctive stand down.
"Bloody Jesus." Soap shook his head, weapon down again, heart still high in his throat. "One of these days someone is gonna shoot ye for being a creep."
Ghost didn't even blink at that, fully stepping out of the small shadow that had been partially obscuring his bulk. He was geared up as usual, if usual meant having to take on an entire platoon by himself.
"I would like to see them try", he rumbled.
Soap raised an eyebrow in thought. "Aye, me too. I would actually pay good money for that." He still couldn't fully understand how a man that large could be this stealthy.
Ghost just continued his blank stare. Dark eyes tracking over Soap's face and form.
The Scotsman allowed his grin to show, a light giddiness spreading through him. The first shock slowly wearing off, a different reason for his elevated heartrate taking over. "Anyway, what brings ye out on this fine evening. Can't just be little ol' me, can it?"
That got him a slow blink. If in reaction or just because Ghost was also human enough to need to, Soap wasn't sure. His Lieutenant was hard to read at the best of times, though he made due.
"Heard your patrol partner got held up thanks to a broken foot", Ghost answered after a beat. "Thought I might check in."
Being reminded of what he was supposed to be doing, Soap gave a directional twitch of his head. A small nod in answer was enough that he started walking again, Ghost joining him by his side.
"A hail over comms would have been enough for that", he answered faintly bemused, getting back into his walking rhythm. "And I was planning to visit ye anyhow when I was done."
A slow glance down. Soap lightly held his breath at the stare, shoving down some thoughts that popped up.
"Didn't know that", the Lieutenant answered as he looked back in front, alert, steps light even with all the gear. He had a weapon out, mirroring Soap's, keeping pace easily but comfortably.
Almost like he was Soap's partner on patrol.
That thought brought a furrow to the Scot's brow. It was quickly replaced by another light grin, as he teasingly asked, "Ye wouldn't happen to have anything to do with my current patrol partner missing, would ye?"
The look he got for that was worth it. "If I had, you would never know", Ghost answered evenly.
Soap barked a laugh. "Can't say I blame ye. I'm a joy to be around."
"That's debatable. Especially with the constant chatter."
"Nothing wrong with talking here and there, sir." The grin on Soap's lips was easily worth the last hour of boring patrol, a lightness at just being in Ghost's company spreading through him. He hadn't even noticed how stiff his shoulders had gotten until they were relaxing fraction by fraction.
The Lieutenant didn't answer back, seemingly focusing on patrolling. If Soap hadn't known that the man next to him could make jokes while simultaneously taking a man's life, it might have come across as dutiful.
Faintly smiling, Soap let the ensuing silence sit, comfortable in it as they walked through the eerily quiet base. Twin footsteps sounding better than he could have ever imagined.
Without the weapons and gear, he could almost pretend that the two of them were out on a leisurely nightly stroll. Though preferably, Soap would have gone hiking somewhere in the hills and mountains, not over hard asphalt in between naked concrete. Couldn’t have everything.
But still, Ghost was doing him quite the favor, just by sharing his large skulled company. The way Soap was now looking forward to the rest of his patrol only proving that.
Especially, since whenever they came across another patrol now, he had to bite back a laugh at their double takes.