My name's Tumble and welcome to my Call of Duty blog! There's not a whole ton here, yet, but perhaps you're interested in what I do have?
Soap x OC Long-Fic: On A Wing & A Prayer
OC Character Sheet: Aderyn "Vireo" Cotes
Fun Facts About Vireo
Or maybe you want to check out my main instead? @imtrashraccoon
Feel free to stick around or send an ask! I always like interacting with people.
Btw, I'm a selfshipper, so any content I post will likely be that or OC x Canon. This blog will be generally SFW, although there may be discussion of sensitive topics at times, so please heed content warnings!
CW: Potentially Inaccurate Japanese
Summary: MW3 Fix-it, Long Fic, OC x Canon, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff & Angst, Soap has an accent, Military & Medical Inaccuracies, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Word Count: 4.2k
Also Available on AO3!
First, Previous, & Next Chapter
[04 FEB 2023 1600]
A day later while heading back to her room, Aderyn noticed Gaz leaning against the wall, clearly waiting for her. He was back to wearing military fatigues today, although the blue ball cap remained, leading her to wonder if it was a favourite of his. He looked up as she approached, but his normally warm smile felt more guarded, almost as if the uniform acted as a barrier to his emotions.
"Hey Vireo, got a minute?"
"Sure?" Aderyn tilted her head, scrutinizing the British man for a moment. "Did…did something happen?"
Gaz shook his head, pushing off the wall and motioning for her to follow. "Nothing happened. Price and Laswell just wanted to talk with you."
Aderyn's heart sank as she fell in step with him. "Any idea what it's about?" she tried asking.
"No, sorry. I was only told to come find you."
"I had a feeling you'd say that."
Thankfully, the walk wasn't very long so Aderyn's brain couldn't run wild with "what if?" scenarios, although it didn't prevent the stomach butterflies from breaking out of their cocoons. Gaz stopped in front of a nondescript door and lightly knocked to announce his presence before opening it for her. With an encouraging nod, he stepped aside, making to post up against the wall much like he had been earlier while waiting. Taking a deep breath, Aderyn stepped inside what turned out to be an office. Price had been pouring through a folder with Laswell, although he looked up as Aderyn eased the door shut behind herself.
"Have a seat."
Wordlessly, Aderyn gravitated to the lone chair positioned in front of the desk. While this meeting already seemed to be a far cry from the first, she was still not a fan of having to look up at them. Even if only one of them had decided to sit down as well she would have felt more like an equal, but as it were, she couldn't help drawing comparisons to being called into the principal's office back in middle school.
"I heard you've been up and about for a few days. How are you feeling, Aderyn?"
Despite expecting another interrogation in a similar vein as the first, Laswell's question took Aderyn by surprise. She knew better than to assume the agent actually cared about her well-being, but the casual question had the intended effect. For a moment she could pretend Laswell was a work superior or even an acquaintance making normal small talk.
"I'm alright," Aderyn responded. "Just doing what I can to pass the time."
The American woman nodded, expression briefly morphing to one of understanding. "I apologize that it's taking so long to figure out what to do with you. Perhaps after this meeting I can make headway with Command and get you some actual answers."
"I would appreciate that."
"Getting down to business then…" Laswell rifled through a manilla envelope on the desk before pulling out a stack of photos and spreading them out over the flat surface. "Take a look at these."
Aderyn scooted a little closer to the desk in an effort to see better. The dozen or so photos appeared to mostly depict men, sometimes individually and sometimes in a group. A few looked like mugshots, but the majority seemed like they had been taken from surveillance footage or at odd angles, suggesting the subjects were unaware of the act.
"Do you recognize any of these men?" Laswell prompted.
Scanning the pictures again, Aderyn nodded slowly. "Yes, this one," she gestured to a slightly grainy picture of a man in a thick coat, "this man looks familiar although I'm not sure where I could have seen him." After a moment, she indicated a burly man wearing a gray ushanka and a scar intersecting his mouth. "This man was one of the guards who interacted with me the most. I heard others call him Leonid, although I don't know if that was his actual name or not."
She continued working her way through the photos, recognizing some of the subjects and giving what little she knew about them. Unfortunately, her knowledge was mostly limited to having a familiar feeling like she had seen them before and sometimes knowing where but little else. Other than a few of the guards from the prison, Aderyn didn't know names or much other identifying information. It pained her because she wanted to be helpful more than anything. She wanted to make a difference so these men couldn't go on to hurt more people. Still, she was determined to do what she could and push through the discomfort that dredging up bad memories brought.
"Last one. Do you recognize this man?"
The photo Laswell indicated was a mugshot of a middle-aged man, although Aderyn had never been good at estimating ages so she might have been wrong. His eyes were dark, glowering at the camera even as he was being processed by unseen guards. He had a prominent widow's peak and short black hair that looked like it was normally slicked back although had become slightly mussed.
"I… I've seen him before," Aderyn whispered. She clenched her fists, pressing her nails into her palms until they threatened to break skin. "He was the man who met my client."
In her periphery, she saw the two exchange a look, but Price spoke first. "Are you sure? Did you ever hear his name or anything?" he asked.
Aderyn furrowed her brow before leaning forward to study the picture again. "He only spoke in Russian with his men and I never caught his name, but I'm positive this is him.
"Tell us about the day you met him again; everything you remember, not just the important details," Laswell said.
So Aderyn did. She took her time reiterating every detail from the time she took off, to the weather that day, and any intricacies she remembered about her former client. She even showed them on a map where she estimated the deal had taken place. While there was a good chance that anything important was long gone, she had a good feeling what remained of her helicopter would still be there, since transporting that sort of thing in the wilderness was both impractical and difficult to do without attracting unwanted attention. Technically her testimony should have been all the proof anyone needed, but having physical evidence wouldn't hurt either.
Both Price and Laswell kept pressing Aderyn for more information, but they eased off when it became clear that she didn't know anything else. While neither told her the man's name or any other info, she could tell he was considered an important person of interest. Part of her wanted to ask why, but she also knew better. Even if they would explain - which they wouldn't - the last thing Aderyn needed was to get involved in that mess again, not when she had just been pulled out. Even after all these years it seemed that ignorance was bliss.
· · ─────── · »—» ⟨ 🪶 ⟩ «—« · ─────── · ·
The interrogation- meeting, Aderyn mentally corrected herself, went a lot longer than expected. Apparently Gaz had other things to do, because he wasn't there when she was let out of the office. Aderyn supposed Price and Laswell weren't worried about her posing any sort of security risk if they had been so willing to set her loose without an escort. Maybe that meant she was on better standing with them than she first thought? The possibility gave some comfort, even if it was only temporary.
While Aderyn knew she should head back to her room in case her suspicion proved wrong, she really, really didn't want to sit in a small room by herself in the dark right now. Surely it would be alright if she took her time getting back, right? It wasn't like she planned on snooping around the base either, just acquire a change of scenery for a bit. With this thought in mind, she found her way to the rec room Gaz showed her the other day, and since everyone else seemed to be otherwise occupied, she felt free to relax for a little while.
The cupboards were about as dire as Aderyn expected and contained no actual dishes beyond a singular fork with questionably bent prongs, a nearly empty package of paper plates, and a handful of loose stir sticks. Fortunately, she discovered the styrofoam cups that Gaz had used shoved to the back of a tall shelf. The box of tea had similarly been hidden just out of reach, forcing her to pull out an old trick from her childhood and climb up on the counter. For a moment she wondered whether stealing from someone's clearly precious stash was a smart thing to do, but ultimately their loss was her gain. Maybe they shouldn't have left their tea out in the open if they didn't want her to steal any. Besides, with the room being a communal space, she could reasonably claim ignorance if caught since no one had told her not to touch the meager supplies.
While waiting for the electric kettle to boil some water, she located a few sugar packets and a small carton of cream in the fridge that was still within date. Normally she preferred her tea with skim milk and a little honey, but beggars couldn't be choosers on a military base. At least she could make a tolerable cup of tea with what was available. When the kettle finished, she poured the hot water over the tea bag, being extra careful not to spill since the styrofoam cup was a lot lighter than an actual mug. Just as she went to return the small appliance to its cradle, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Slowly, she turned her head, scanning the room out of the corner of her eye.
Aderyn knew before she spotted him that she had been caught. There, standing next to the couch was the one taskforce member she had yet to have a proper conversation with after that night at the prison - Lieutenant Ghost. Despite being on base for the better part of two weeks, she hadn't seen hide nor hair of the masked soldier, not that she had purposely been avoiding him, although she wouldn't be surprised if such had been the case on his end.
To her surprise, Ghost didn't immediately ask what she was doing or really show any sort of reaction beyond indifference. Well, that was what Aderyn thought, but the skull balaclava and eye black hid pretty much everything. The blank stare he continued to level her with gave nothing away either, so she turned her attention to the rest of him. Other than the balaclava, he was dressed casually in sweatpants, a charcoal hoodie, skeleton print gloves, and combat boots. He almost looked normal like this…almost. Aderyn knew he was a big guy back when she saw him in full tactical gear, but in the moment she hadn't realized just how big he really was. While he seemed to have a naturally broad build, she could tell the majority of his bulk had been forged through years of hard work both on and off the field. The continued silence as he studied her felt unnerving, which was probably the point, but she could play that game too.
Her tea had been steeping for a few minutes by now, but without a spoon she had to make do with a couple of the stir sticks to pull out the tea bag. There was a certain level of satisfaction in turning her back and ignoring her silent observer. He could act like an adult and use his words if he had a problem with what she was doing. So, she continued making her tea the way she normally would by adding the sugar, a splash of cream, stirring it all together-
"You're makin' it wrong."
While his tone lacked the rough edge from before, Ghost still managed to sound annoyed, as if Aderyn's very presence irritated him. Taking a steadying breath, she squared her shoulders and turned around, fixing him with the most neutral expression she could muster.
"Well, good thing I wasn't making it for you then," she hummed. Holding eye contact with the masked soldier over the rim of her cup, she took a slow sip of the tea, cringing a little at the slightly too hot temperature.
Ghost raised an eyebrow, apparently not expecting Aderyn to match his energy before letting out an annoyed huff. Maybe this wasn't the best decision, but it was funny to catch him off guard. Before he could recover and chew her out for her behavior, Aderyn decided now would be a good time to make her escape. To her surprise, Ghost made no move to stop her from leaving, although she felt his disapproving glare on the back of her head up until the door clicked shut behind her.
Clutching her tea to her chest, Aderyn waited with baited breath, fully expecting the enigmatic Brit to come after her, but when nothing happened she allowed herself to relax. With a quiet chuckle, she began heading back, failing to keep a triumphant smile off her face. Stolen mediocre tea had never tasted so good.
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[06 FEB 2023 0900]
"Do you have anywhere to go?"
With a frown, Aderyn tore her gaze away from her lap, meeting Laswell's eye again. Price must have been busy since she hadn't seen him yet, or maybe he simply chose not to join the two of them today. Whatever the reason, she didn't mind since it meant he wasn't staring at her and mentally picking apart everything she said the whole time. While Aderyn wasn't sure what she thought of the captain, from what Laswell had just asked she wouldn't have the chance to figure it out either.
Shifting in her seat, Aderyn shrugged. "Maybe my dad? I'm not close with anyone else in my family."
Laswell gave her a curious look but mercifully didn't press further. "In that case I'll make flight arrangements," she said.
"When?"
"Tomorrow if you'd like."
Aderyn exhaled slowly, fiddling with her fingernails. "Can I make a phone call? See if he'd actually want to help?"
The CIA agent nodded and started gathering together the papers she had previously spread across the desk. "Of course, I'm not about to leave you in the lurch after everything."
Who knew the woman had a heart underneath all the bureaucracy and intelligence operations?
Even after hearing her story more than once and asking so many questions her head swam, Laswell broke the news that Command decided to cut Aderyn loose. Simply put, they deemed what little intel she possessed useless, and since the worst of her injuries had since healed, there was no point keeping her on base any longer. While Aderyn wasn't surprised by this decision, it didn't make leaving any less painful since she had enjoyed interacting with Soap every day.
Laswell hooked her up with a satellite phone and left her alone in the office for a while. At first Aderyn could only stare at the screen, thumb hovering over the keypad half paralyzed with anxiety. Would her dad even answer? What if he did and then refused to talk? After four years he probably stopped looking for her, right? Slowly, muscle memory took over as she began inputting the same phone number she had hundreds of times before. Surely he kept it, even after all these years.
One ring, two, three…
Just as she thought the call would go to voicemail or disconnect, the ringing cut off as someone picked up.
"Hello?"
Her heart skipped a beat at the familiar quiet timbre, and for a moment her tongue refused to cooperate. It had been so long, and she had missed him so much. Now, he was here - half the world away but also here - and she didn't know what to do. She needed to say something, anything, before he hung up and she lost her one chance to see him again.
"Hey Chichi, it's me… I missed you…" (Dad)
A sharp inhale and then shuffling, as if he had suddenly stood up. "Little bird? Aderyn, my darling, is that really you?" he whispered.
She swallowed thickly. "Yes, yes, I'm here."
"Watashi no musume… I thought you were dead." (My daughter)
The slight wavering of his voice all but broke her heart, and Aderyn felt the beginnings of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Me too. I'm sorry, it's probably some ungodly hour over there…"
"No, don't apologize! I was just winding down for the night." He paused for a moment before adding in a stern tone, "It's never too late, Aderyn. Remember what I used to tell you when you were small?"
"That I should call you if I need you, I know."
"Yes, no matter what time it is I will come get you."
Aderyn huffed softly, taking a moment to wipe away a few errant tears with her palm. "Might be hard to do that now, Chichi."
More shuffling and then some soft jingling, like keys being picked up. "Where are you? Please tell me you're safe."
"Yeah, I'm safe." She paused for a moment, unsure how else to reassure him. "I don't really know where I am? A military base somewhere in Asia I think, although that doesn't narrow it down much." Before her dad could respond, she quickly added, "Don't worry, it's not what you think! They're going to send me back tomorrow actually."
There was a beat of silence. "What time does your flight land?" he asked.
Aderyn was a little surprised he didn't demand to know why she was there, or what happened for her to disappear without a trace. Of course, he most likely wanted to know the answer to those questions and many more, but he seemed to realize that there were more pressing matters right now. There would be time to explain everything; the most important thing to him was getting her - his beloved daughter - home safe.
"I don't know yet…" She chewed at her lower lip. "I wanted to call first just in case you didn't want-"
He interrupted before she could finish. "Of course I want to see you, little bird. I've wished for nothing more ever since you vanished…" He took a shaky breath. "No matter what, you are always welcome home."
"Thanks Chichi," Aderyn croaked. "I'll call you again in the morning when I know more, okay?"
"Sounds good." He let out a soft laugh, as if he could hardly believe what was happening. "Please hurry, I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep now."
She laughed as well. "At least try. I'd feel worse if you were falling asleep while on your feet because of me."
"None of that now. You just focus on getting here, alright?"
"Yeah, I'll do my best."
"Oh, and one more thing, Aderyn?"
She hummed softly, indicating for her dad to continue.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
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"An' you jus' walked out?" Soap asked, disbelief colouring his tone.
Aderyn couldn't stop herself from grinning, probably looking like a cat that got the cream. "Yeah! I thought for sure he was going to haul me over to Price's office."
The Scot laughed to the point that his head fell back against the pillow. "Ye're playing a dangerous game, lassie. Lt's the type to hold a grudge, an' he's got a long memory too."
"Eh, it's just one tea. He'll survive I'm sure."
"Well, jus' donnae expect me to fight him for ye if he comes round~"
Aderyn's eyes briefly flicked lower to where she knew Soap's ribs were still healing. "That's fair, I'd feel bad if the doc chewed you out for trying anyways."
He chuckled, his eyes taking on a mischievous glint. "Actually, I was thinking more about whit happened last time some eejit tried challenging him an' got dropped in a single punch. Donnae think the poor lad saw it coming either."
"Oh." If her eyebrows could raise any higher they would fly away. "Does… Does Ghost start fights a lot?"
Soap seemed to notice Aderyn's worry and quickly moved to reassure her. "Naw, only when said eejits deserve it. Also, I donnae think he'd actually fight ye, at least no' without trying to use his words first."
"Really? I think he's said less than a dozen words to me since we met?" Aderyn shook her head. "It's just hard to picture him trying to be diplomatic."
Soap spread his hands in a slightly exasperated manner. "Hey, I said he'd try. Believe it or no', but compared to half the blokes on base, Ghost knows how to be a gentleman when it counts."
"Well, he's got an odd way of showing it," she muttered.
"You jus' haven't gotten to know him like I have, lassie."
The conversation moved on after that, but talking with Soap never failed to make Aderyn smile. Just hearing about his various escapades or stories about his friends warmed her heart more than anything had in years. However it also served to remind her that this life could never be hers. She was just an outsider granted a rare glimpse into his day to day experiences.
"I wish I had more time," she sighed. "Like, when Kyle hinted someone on base was particular about tea, I never expected it to be Ghost. Makes me wonder what else you all get up to every day, you know?"
Her melancholic attitude seemed to flip a switch in the Scot's mind. With a frown, he sat up straighter, bright blue eyes scanning every inch of her face as if he could deduce what she was thinking by expression alone.
"Ye're leaving?" he finally asked in a small voice.
Aderyn nodded slowly, wringing her hands in her lap. "First thing in the morning. My dad's going to meet me at the airport."
Soap didn't say anything at first, and when Aderyn stole a glance at his face, she noticed an almost conflicted look in his eyes. He wasn't looking at her anymore either, instead seeming to be struggling to find a response to the news.
"I'm happy for ye," he said. Despite the finality of his words, the reluctance in his tone suggested that he wasn't being entirely truthful. "Really though, ye're finally going home. You can leave all o' this behind an' get back to normal life again."
Aderyn hummed in a noncommittal manner. "Yeah, I suppose so…"
"You donnae sound excited about it."
His observation made her frown. Idly she picked at the skin around her cuticles, turning the thought over in her mind but not knowing what to say.
"Can I ask why?" Soap pressed, using a softer tone now.
"That's the thing, I'm not sure." Aderyn huffed and leaned back in her chair to stare at the ceiling. "I've been away for so long that I'm not sure what normal even looks like anymore. Maybe it's just anxiety? I dunno, it could also be not knowing what happens next when I get home." She took a deep breath before adding in a quieter voice, "I'll also miss you..."
"Hey. Can ye look at me, lassie?" Soap waited until Aderyn forced herself to meet his eyes again before continuing. "I get what ye're feeling, I really do. Maybe I haven't experienced the same things, but it's normal to feel lost when there's a big change in yer life. If ye can, lean on the folks who care about ye. Ye're stronger than ye think, but there's nae shame in asking fo' help, ye ken?"
Aderyn nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know," she murmured.
Soap studied her for a moment before smiling. "If I'm overstepping, feel free to say no," he scratched the back of his neck, "but would ye like to exchange numbers? In case ye jus' want to talk sometime?"
"Yes, of course!" Aderyn felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment at how desperate she sounded. With an awkward cough, she straightened her spine in an attempt to claw back some dignity. "I mean, yeah, I'd like that. I have to look into getting a new phone, but I wouldn't mind keeping in touch."
Soap snickered, reaching over only to let his hand rest on her good knee. "An' to think I thought ye would refuse," he teased, lightly squeezing the joint.
Aderyn eyed the Scottish man's hand for a moment before looking up at him, deciding not to push it away. "Why would I do that? It's not like I was forced to come see you every day."
"Well, I didnae want to be presumptuous."
He winked before retrieving a slightly worn notebook from the side table. Aderyn watched as he flicked through the pages, presumably looking for a blank one, although most had already been covered with various drawings and occasional notes. She hadn't pegged him as the artistic type, but from the few sketches she could make out he seemed pretty good. Just as she was debating whether she should ask about it, he scribbled something on one of the pages before tearing it out and offering the small scrap to her.
"Try not to lose it, lassie~"
Aderyn rolled her eyes as she accepted the paper, although she couldn't help but peek at the series of digits, already committing them to memory just in case. "Unless I'm literally being held at gunpoint, I'm not one to ghost people," she retorted.
"Good, I'll be waiting to hear from ye then."
~~~
Hey! This is my first attempt at a Call of Duty fic, so if you liked it, I would massively appreciate reblogs as it helps a lot. Your support means the world to me! Thanks for reading this far if you did.
Summary: MW3 Fix-it, Long Fic, OC x Canon, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff & Angst, Soap has an accent, Military & Medical Inaccuracies, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Word Count: 4k
Also Available on AO3!
First, Previous, & Next Chapter
[03 FEB 2023 0800]
Over the next few days Aderyn made sure to visit Soap as often as she could. If anyone were to ask, she would say it was to keep him company while he recovered, but truthfully she didn't want to be alone. While she was surrounded by the medical staff most of the time, they were strangers and only doing their jobs. She much preferred spending time with the Scottish man since, compared to the more clinical attitudes of the staff, his affable demeanor seemed to put her at ease. It was also easy to talk about almost everything, and he never seemed irritated by their conversations, if anything Aderyn suspected he looked forward to her visits.
Sometimes Kyle would stop by too. Initially Aderyn assumed he was a thoughtful and soft spoken person, but she soon learned he could be just as excitable as Soap. Otherwise, he remained friendly and had a manner of speaking that disarmed tension before it could linger. More than once Aderyn realized he had gotten her to lower her guard, which felt terrifying if she was honest with herself. Kyle never gave any indication that he was being anything but genuine though so she tried to put it out of her mind. Maybe he could even be someone she called a friend if she had enough time to get to know him.
The biggest issue she faced was what would happen next. Well, there were other worries too, but most of them led back to her uncertain fate. Neither Price nor Laswell had stopped by after the interrogation and while it was likely because they had a lot going on, Aderyn had no way of knowing for sure. Not that she wanted to see them anyways. Regardless of her feelings, she knew how the military worked, and unless she was granted proper clearance out of the blue, she wouldn't be told anything. In a way, this situation felt no different from the prison - the waiting, the all consuming helplessness, and especially the knowledge that her life was in another person's hands. She hated every bit of it. They couldn't keep her in limbo forever, but how long must she be kept wondering?
At least she could see Soap whenever she liked. As dark as the days seemed, he continued to exist as the one good thing in her life. He seemed to have made it his life's goal to get a laugh or at the very least a smile out of everyone he met, and he was usually pretty successful too, although Aderyn thought she might just be an easy target. He liked to tell stories as well, even if they seemed a tad embellished at times. However, the more she listened, the more Aderyn began to suspect that Soap wasn't used to having a captive audience. She could never get tired of seeing how happy he got whenever she asked about various details or follow up questions. He had lived an interesting life, even before the military, and it only made her want to learn everything she could about him.
Perhaps she was becoming a bit obsessed with the Scottish man. The notion made her feel incredibly embarrassed, but what else could it be? Even though she had only known him for a short while, she already felt strongly about him, more so than anyone else - old high school boyfriend included. She needed to get hold of herself and soon, or someone might start questioning her mental state more than they already had been.
After being locked in survival mode for years, it became apparent that her mind didn't know what to do now that the danger had passed. Aderyn couldn't help replaying conversations in her head or analyzing each person's expressions after every interaction, worrying she made a mistake and upset them. What were they talking about behind closed doors? Surely nothing good; nothing was ever good. Any one of the staff could be a danger as much as a help. She knew she was silly for thinking like this, but taming the paranoia that had been her reality for so long seemed like a monumental task.
It didn't really help that she had limited ways of distracting herself. In the past she might have been able to go to sleep when all else failed, but even that was becoming a problem. Sleep came easily enough during the first week as the healing process took a lot out of her, however now she had too much energy and no real outlet to burn it. While the doctor still had her under strict orders to rest, he encouraged her to get some exercise - which mostly meant taking a walk through the halls in the medical wing for an hour or two every day. Except that wasn't enough and when she couldn't visit Soap, Aderyn felt she had little choice but to pace circles around her room. This method tended to yield mixed results though. Sure, it would burn enough energy to allow her to get a few hours of sleep, but it reminded her too much of being imprisoned, plus she received concerned looks whenever the nurses made their rounds. She would need to find new distractions and quickly or else risk going mad.
On that note, Aderyn had a feeling she should find a therapist of some sort, if not for the anxiety than for her nightmares. She already tended to be a light sleeper, to the point that every little noise seemed to wake her up, and her brain spontaneously deciding to conjure up bad memories didn't help. She despised being plagued by imaginary terrors, especially when those bastards were dead and couldn't hurt her anymore. She should be getting better and looking forward to picking up her life again, not worrying about things she couldn't control.
Maybe taking back some of her agency would help? She didn't have a lot of options, but there had to be something she could do.
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For Johnny, being stuck in bed felt like a prison in itself. Not only was he reliant on the medical team for everything, but even if he could leave, he was still banned from any training or physical activity. He had been lucky that Price only gave him a scolding for disobeying orders, apparently deciding he had suffered enough already. As stubborn a man as he was, Johnny knew better than to push his luck twice. So for now, as much as he hated it, he had no choice but to let his body recover.
Not everything was so bad though. For one, he had plenty of company. As much as Gaz liked to tease, the lad knew how to make him forget about his frustrations, even if their conversations tended to consist of football or the cute nurse on staff. Ghost also stopped by, although his visits tended to be more sporadic and at odd hours. Johnny suspected the lieutenant had somehow convinced the nurses to let him in after visiting hours were up. They didn't talk a whole lot, didn't need to really, and most of the time it was about various developments around the base anyway, but Johnny liked to think it was Ghost's way of caring. Secondly, the food wasn't half bad either. Even if being in the military hadn't trained any pickiness out of him, the menu almost made him consider finding ways to get hospitalized more often. Almost. He would sooner take cafeteria mystery meat over being bed bound like this. The third and best thing was that he got to see Vireo- Aderyn every day. For a week after being rescued he hadn't heard from her, and while that didn't stop him from asking about her condition, he had begun to think she didn't want to see him. He was wrong of course, and he couldn't be more glad for it. Despite this, it still frustrated him that he had to wait on everyone to come to him.
Laying in bed all day gave him a lot of time to think, mostly about Aderyn, although he would rather get kicked in the nuts than admit to it. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her standing there for the first time. He hadn't expected her to be young - they were probably pretty close in age actually - but what struck him the most were her eyes. They looked to be warm brown, sort of like honey, and while he could see how scared she was, her eyes seemed to radiate defiance. In fact, he had to admire her refusal to be intimidated by the guards, stubbornly keeping her chin held high before they were both marched to that room. He couldn't really explain why but in that moment she seemed...beautiful. It wasn't so much about her physical appearance, but rather how she carried herself and how concerned she had been about him, even jeopardizing her own well-being. He wouldn't have blamed her if she chose to keep her head down - probably would have been better off if she had - but even now she insisted on sticking by him, almost as if she knew the prison didn't leave just because he had.
The room seemed to feel less dull each time she came to see him. The moment Aderyn opened that door, Johnny could swear the lights turned a warmer shade. He felt comfortable around her in a way he normally didn't with people he barely knew. Perhaps it was because she seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say? She tended to let him steer their conversations, adding her own thoughts where appropriate, but occasionally asked questions of her own too. Johnny didn't really mind, although he couldn't help wondering if she was a quiet person or just didn't like talking about herself. He had tried to get her to open up a few times, but she turned out to have a knack for dodging his inquiries and redirecting the conversation. That was alright though. It took two years to wear down Ghost, and his lieutenant was the most closed off person Johnny knew, surely he could win over Aderyn in half that. If anything, he suspected his natural charm was already working since she didn't seem to find him annoying yet.
Just can't mess it up now-
Against his better judgement, Johnny couldn't help but stare when Aderyn stopped by for the day. In the hours since he last saw her she had gone and shaved off half her hair! He didn't want to assume she did it in a manic state - he'd seen women do it before - but well, he wouldn't blame her either considering how long she had been imprisoned. If anything, he wished he could do something similarly dramatic.
"You cut yer hair?" he blurted out.
"I did, felt like I desperately needed a change." Aderyn shifted on her feet, furrowing her brows with uncertainty. "Do you think it's too much?"
Previously she had worn her hair in a single braid, which looked good in Johnny's opinion, but little pieces always seemed to fall out or stick up at odd angles no matter what she did. Now she sported a slightly choppy undercut and had trimmed the remaining black locks down to a more manageable length. It was certainly an unconventional choice, but once her hair had a chance to grow out a little, the rough parts could be fixed up if she so chose.
Johnny almost wanted to laugh. "Ye're talking to the guy wi' a mohawk, asking if yer hair's too much?" He motioned to his own rather unkempt mop and managed a dry chuckle. "Naw, it's a whole new side o' ye I didnae ken before. I like it."
Aderyn smiled at that. "Thanks. I'm not usually so spontaneous believe it or not." Johnny didn't for a moment but kept the thought to himself.
As the Canadian crossed the room, Johnny's smile faltered. While Aderyn was still choosing to use a cane to get around - she said her knee gave her trouble some days but was getting better - his gaze narrowed in on her face. The dark circles beneath her eyes seemed deeper today, suggesting she hadn't slept well the previous night, although his attention was more focused on the facial cuts. The deeper ones still looked angry and raw, but thanks to the medical staff's efforts they were at least healing well. They would probably stick around for the rest of her life, however the smaller ones may fade enough to be barely noticeable if she was lucky. Perhaps they would even look cool, if she was into that sort of thing anyways, but Johnny didn't know many women who were.
"Is everything okay?" Aderyn asked. Her brows were pinched together with concern as she paused next to a chair by the bed
"Yeah, 'm good." Johnny mentally cursed himself for worrying her. "Feel like I should be asking ye the same thing."
She let out a small huff as she sat down. "Never better."
"Sure about that?" He indicated her new hairstyle with a jut of his chin. "This seems a bit sudden, eh?"
"Listen." Aderyn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You'd be desperate too if you hadn't seen a barber in four years."
Johnny chuckled and shook his head. "Fair, although I start to go crazy if it's been more than a few months."
Her eyes flicked over his scalp before she pursed her lips in thought. "Feel free to say no," Aderyn started to say. "But I could help freshen up your own hair?"
So it really was as bad as he thought, huh? Johnny had a feeling Gaz had been lying about the state of his hair yesterday but didn't call him out since he had no proof. Without easy access to a mirror, he could only go off of touch alone and that tended to be deceiving.
"Depends how many times ye've cut others hair I suppose," he answered, running his free hand through the tattered locks.
"Ah, well, that would be never. I've seen how its done though, and I just buzzed half my scalp so it can't be that hard." Aderyn chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Eh, maybe forget it. I'd hate to mess up and leave you looking half sheared."
"Actually, I could talk ye through it," he said, perhaps too eagerly.
Aderyn seemed genuinely surprised and stared at him for several long seconds. "You're seriously willing to risk being ridiculed by your teammates for a haircut?"
"You only live once." Johnny flashed a bit of a cheeky grin before adding, "They already give me grief ev'ry chance they get anyways."
"Well alright then. I'll be back in like five minutes, don't move."
Aderyn was already out the door before he could tell her he couldn't even if he wanted to. While she probably wasn't gone for longer than minute, he evidently followed her order a little too well if the look of surprise on her face when she returned was any indication.
"You must really want this haircut," Aderyn teased as she deposited the supplies on a nearby table.
Johnny must have taken too long to answer because she glanced over her shoulder with a mildly concerned expression. Oh, now he was staring too. He blinked and quickly looked away, feeling the heat of embarrassment colour his face.
"Aye." Brilliant, she'll think you're a proper idiot now.
Aderyn made a sound of clearing her throat. "Right," she murmured while shaking out the spare towel she brought. "Last chance to back out. I won't be upset if you change your mind, okay?"
Shaking his head, Johnny couldn't help cracking a bit of a wry smile. "Naw, I'm no' chickening out on ye, hen."
She raised an eyebrow, giving him a slightly confused look although shrugged it off moments later. Did he say something strange? Or maybe it was the latest term of endearment he'd taken to using? He admittedly had a bit of a habit of coming up with nicknames and such for people he liked, but she probably would have said something if she hated it. Best put a pin in that one for later.
After draping the towel over Johnny's shoulders to keep loose hair clumps from irritating his skin, Aderyn took a moment to figure out what she would be working with. Even though his hair had grown out quite a bit since the last time he'd seen a barber, he knew there was still a pretty clear distinction between the longer strands of his mohawk and everything else.
"Is it alright if I touch you?"
The question surprised him more than it should have. "Thought that would be a given," Johnny responded. When Aderyn gave him a blank look, he couldn't help but find it amusing. "Ye can touch me all ye like, no need to ask fo' something like this."
Are you gonna make me beg too?
Aderyn rolled her eyes. "Well excuse me for not wanting to be presumptuous…" The sarcasm in her tone only served to make Johnny's smile grow larger.
By the time she got round to the actual haircutting part, Johnny could tell Aderyn didn't really know what she was doing. She definitely knew some techniques but had no clue what the various clipper attachments were for. He didn't blame her though because he only knew about women's hair care thanks to growing up with younger sisters, and even then he was only passable at best. Regardless, he didn't mind explaining how the attachments were used and Aderyn seemed to appreciate the tips if the loosening of her shoulders was any indication. He did have to give credit where it was due though because she learned quickly.
Through a handheld mirror, Johnny watched as the Canadian worked. Once she got used to the feeling of the clippers in her hand and he stopped having to give so many instructions, she seemed to become engrossed in the haircutting process. Perhaps it was the ease with which the clippers could pass through his hair, or maybe she enjoyed sectioning the longer strands of his mohawk away from the rest with a comb. Either way, Johnny had to admit it also felt immensely satisfying.
When was the last time someone had cut his hair like this? He tended to go to whatever barber shop wherever he was stationed, or more often than not do the job himself when he needed a trim. Before that he barely remembered when his ma used to cut his hair as a lad. Regardless, it was always something he had to get done, whether for regulation or to keep up general appearances, but none of his previous experiences exhibited the amount of care as Aderyn was right now. Despite being inexperienced, she truly seemed interested in helping him and that meant a lot more than she could know.
Speaking of Aderyn, Johnny found himself in the perfect position to study her more closely than before. He wasn't trying to stare, but with having to stay still so she wouldn't accidentally nick him, he didn't have anywhere else to look. Her eyes were easily the most lovely part of her face in his opinion. He would love nothing more than to study them for hours, although she would probably dislike it if he did. Now, what he didn't like were the cuts, specifically the one that Russian bastard carved into her right cheek. While Johnny would never say Aderyn looked ugly, the resulting scar would always be a reminder of the prison and his personal failure. In his opinion, she didn't deserve to be haunted by what happened for the rest of her life. Unintentional or not, he was secretly grateful for the chance to look at her this closely without feeling like he was being creepy.
Then Aderyn's free hand pressed against his forehead. Evidently she couldn't quite reach and without hesitating Johnny acquiesced to her silent request and bowed his head. The boldness of the gesture was surprising but not unpleasant since he generally enjoyed physical touch. Unfortunately, it had the unintended effect of putting him at eye level with her chest. For a moment Johnny froze, unsure whether he should pretend not to notice or do something to get her attention, preferably without making her feel self-conscious.
Before he could decide, Aderyn seemed to realize the predicament Johnny was in. Her breath caught in her throat and she went very still, although she thankfully had the sense to move the clippers away from his head. When she met his eye, her cheeks turned a bright pink, but she didn't immediately freak out like he expected. Rather she seemed to pause; her eyes flicked across his face and her expression turned to one of tentative curiosity.
What is she thinking about?
Aderyn's gaze drifted from Johnny's eyes to his lips and his heart skipped a beat. Then her eyebrows pinched together, and Johnny realized she must have noticed the small but jagged scar across his chin. All at once he felt like a fool since she seemed to have gotten as caught up in studying him as he had her.
Her lips moved, mouthing what Johnny thought was the word illegal. Now thoroughly confused, he broke eye contact, feeling his face flush with heat. Since when did he lose his composure like this? He glanced down towards the bed, although with Aderyn still so close, he thought better of it and quickly adverted his gaze again.
His reaction seemed to yank Aderyn back to reality and she quickly retracted her hand. "I- I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking!" she stammered. Hanging her head in shame, she shuffled around to the side of the bed so that she wasn't hovering over him anymore. "I'll... I'll just work from over here."
Now Johnny felt bad. He didn't mean to upset her, if anything the whole fiasco seemed like an accident, but she immediately jumped to blaming herself. He needed to say something, apologize, make a joke - anything to make her feel better.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, pointedly trying not to make direct eye contact with each other. Only when Aderyn finished the first side of his head and moved to start on the second did Johnny clear his throat. "Are ye alright?" he whispered, voice sounding slightly hoarse.
Aderyn nodded, still refusing to look at him. "Yep! Totally fine," she chirped.
"Wasnae trying to stare…"
"Well it's not like I gave you any other option…"
Johnny exhaled slowly. "The last thing I want is to make ye uncomfortable. It's important to me that ye know that, hen."
Aderyn locked eyes with him through the little mirror for a moment. Chewing at her lower lip, she turned away and resumed shaving his head, possibly in an attempt to distract herself. "Let's just…forget it ever happened, okay?" she muttered.
Johnny only responded with a low hum. Completely dropping the topic didn't sit right with him, but he knew if he kept pushing, she would become more upset. So, he gave in and let her continue cutting his hair.
Putting the clippers down, Aderyn brushed away a couple loose pieces of hair before combing through his mohawk to get it to sit correctly. Rather than switch to another blade head, she chose to use scissors and trim the remaining hair by hand. It would take longer this way, but Johnny didn't mind so long as the haircut turned out even at the end. Once satisfied with the length, the Canadian stepped back to examine her work, motioning for Johnny to turn his head from side to side in case she missed any spots.
"What do you think?"
Johnny tilted the hand mirror this way and that, even running a hand over his scalp before smiling up at her. "I think yer pure dead brilliant wi' those clippers."
Aderyn chuckled, already moving to pack up. "Aw, anyone could cut hair..." she murmured.
"No' well. Ye did good, hen."
She blushed and shook her head. "And I bet you would say the same thing if I gave you a chop job, eh?" Johnny opened his mouth to protest before shutting it when she narrowed her eyes at him. "My point exactly…"
~~~
Hey! This is my first attempt at a Call of Duty fic, so if you liked it, I would massively appreciate reblogs as it helps a lot. Your support means the world to me! Thanks for reading this far if you did.
Summary: MW3 Fix-it, Long Fic, OC x Canon, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff & Angst, Soap has an accent, Military & Medical Inaccuracies, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Word Count: 4.1k
Also Available On AO3!
First, Previous, & Next Chapter
[LOCATION CLASSIFIED]
[26 JAN 2023 1300]
A firm knock on the door pulled Vireo's attention away from the small television mounted on the wall next to the bed. Idly, she toyed with the buttons on the remote, only half interested in the slightly dull documentary. Despite her boredom, the entertainment options were limited so she felt like she couldn't afford to be picky.
"Come in," she called, hitting the pause button for the time being.
After the helicopter arrived, Vireo and Soap had been immediately rushed to the infirmary for treatment. While she tried to keep track at first, the sheer number of tests the medical staff had run over the last few days became too much to remember, and that was without counting the amount of stitches she received. As it turned out, four years of being fed just enough to keep from starving left her with a severe mineral deficiency and the inability to keep down proper food, so she had been put on an IV drip and a strictly liquid diet for the time being. She would heal given enough time and proper nutrition, although the doctor suspected her knee would need corrective surgery or at the very least extensive physical therapy to correct. At the moment, the personnel were only taking care of her most pressing health concerns, so she had a feeling she would have to look into anything else on her own. Still, their efforts had her feeling the best she had in years, so she couldn't complain.
As the door opened, Vireo's gaze was immediately drawn to the sharply dressed woman with a tablet folded under her arm. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun, although a few strands had come loose since she put it up earlier in the day, and her piercing blue eyes only added to her professional mystique. Something about this woman seemed to dictate that she shouldn't be taken lightly, and Vireo unconsciously straightened up as she approached the hospital bed.
Stepping in behind the woman, Vireo recognized the leader of the squad that had rescued Soap and herself. Even without all the tactical gear and weapons, he appeared no less intimidating, although the wide-brimmed boonie hat he wore only added to her previous assessment of him being a grizzled war veteran. He seemed content to hang back, leaning against a nearby wall with his arms folded across his broad chest, but despite his relaxed posture, he didn't look to be here for a visit.
"Aderyn Cotes. Born in Peace River, Alberta, graduated high school in 2013, enlisted in the Canadian Armed Forces three months later, released under Article 5-F on March 16th, 2015, and noted as unsuitable for further enrollment, two recorded arrests over the next six months for relatively minor charges including public intoxication, reported as missing almost four years later by a Mr. Raymond Cotes on January 23rd, 2019." The woman looked up from her tablet with a smile, although it held no levity. "You've had an interesting past, Vireo."
The mention of her full government name began setting off alarm bells in Vireo's head that only increased in volume as the stranger continued rattling off her history. By foregoing the usual pleasantries and small talk, this woman had already put her on the defensive and made it very clear that there would be no negotiations today. Whatever the woman wanted, she would get, the only question was how much of a fight would there be before Vireo had to admit defeat.
The American woman seemed to take satisfaction in Vireo's stunned silence but kept her expression carefully neutral for the time being. "Kate Laswell, CIA, and this," she motioned to the man standing near the door like a glorified guard dog, "is Captain John Price, although I believe you've met already."
"Only in passing," Vireo murmured, fisting the sheets in an effort to calm her frazzled nerves. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to make eye contact with Laswell, doing her best to appear stronger than she felt. "So you can read off government records, what do you want from me?"
The brunette nodded never breaking eye contact. "I want to know how you managed to end up in a Russian Gulag."
Vireo narrowed her eyes. "If this is an interrogation, I want a lawyer."
"You're not in the position to make demands here," Captain Price growled, not moving from his spot. "At the moment, you're considered a prisoner of war, Cotes. So I suggest you start talkin', or we'll have to get serious."
The way they were speaking seemed to suggest that they thought her a common criminal, which Vireo really didn't like, but in all fairness she hadn't exactly tried to reassure anyone on the contrary. Still, how was she supposed to know they would be this suspicious of her? In a way it made sense as these people likely dealt with all manner of evil on a daily basis, but she didn't appreciate being lumped in with all that.
With a heavy sigh, Vireo ran a hand through her hair, mentally wishing she could've had a chance to make herself presentable before having this sort of heavy conversation. They really had just ambushed her as soon as the doctors deemed her in a stable condition. She supposed it could be worse though; they could have had her handcuffed and hauled off to whatever passed as an interrogation room in this facility. At least they weren't like her previous captors so far, and at the moment there seemed to be no threat of harm for saying the wrong thing, so she might as well get it over with.
"It's a long story… I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," she said.
The admittedly non-answer had Laswell eyeing her with suspicion. "We have all the time in the world," she responded, tapping a finger against the tablet.
"Fine." Vireo huffed, letting her head fall back against the raised portion of the bed so she could stare up at the ceiling rather than make eye contact. "I had a license and a chopper, so I started taking contracts for folks. A guy named Boris Tarasov hired me four years ago to transport some supply crates to a remote area west of Anchorage. When we got there, my client met with a group of maybe six men to discuss the shipment. They spoke in Russian, but I could tell my client was trying to strike some sort of deal."
She paused for a moment in an attempt to recall the events of that fateful night years prior. "Someone opened one of the crates and there were guns inside. I'm not sure how many or what type exactly. Then…I guess the deal went bad? Next thing I know the leader of these guys had my client on his knees execution style. He shot him, right there in the snow. Then they came after me, hauled me out of the cockpit, shoved a bag over my head, and the next thing I know I was locked up in that prison."
There was a beat of silence as the two processed her answer.
"Who were these Russians?" Laswell finally asked.
Vireo shrugged. "I never caught their names. The only reason I figured out things took a turn was when they started shouting."
"I see." The American noted something on her tablet. "Tell me about the contracts."
"Transport. There's a lot of remote communities in Northern Canada that are all but inaccessible the majority of the year. If someone needed food or medicine urgently, they came to me."
"Did you regularly transport weapons?" she asked.
Vireo frowned, briefly glancing at the agent. "I preferred not to ask questions, and at the end of the day I only cared that I got paid."
Laswell didn't seem to appreciate the vague answer, but Vireo wasn't about to incriminate herself if she could help it. While she could have just said no, she didn't know for sure, and if either Price or Laswell found out otherwise, she would certainly be in a world of trouble then.
"Alright then." Laswell studied whatever was on her tablet before seeming to find what she had been looking for. "What's the story behind your discharge? You had just gotten out of basic training and transferred into the air force, right?"
"I don't see how that's relevant here," Vireo hissed, clenching her fists at her sides.
"Just answer the damn question," Price grumbled. "We'll decide what's relevant or not."
"If you're so curious, I'm sure you could just dig up the court rulings. You know, since you were so good at finding everything else."
A tense silenced settled over the room.
"I could," Laswell started to say, stepping closer to the hospital bed. "But I want to hear your side, Aderyn."
The reminder that this woman knew exactly who Vireo was sat like a stone in her gut. How dare she poke and prod at the bits of her life that had specifically been locked away. This was wrong! Her request for representation had been flat out denied - which was all kinds of illegal, prisoner or not. No, she was just a civilian…who happened to have previously been kicked out of the military. Sheesh. They must think Vireo held a grudge and tried to sell off classified information or something. But they were wrong! Well, about the traitor part anyways. If she could convince them that she had long washed her hands of the military, this whole misunderstanding could probably be cleared up.
But what was the point?
"It doesn't matter," Vireo muttered, hanging her head. "No one believed me then, so why should you believe me now?"
In her peripheral vision, Vireo saw Laswell shoot Price an indecipherable look. "Aderyn…" The brunette pulled a nearby chair closer to the hospital bed and sat down, although she remained poised rather than relaxing against the backrest. "It doesn't matter what I believe, what matters is the truth. Help me help you, okay?"
Vireo sighed, squeezing her eyes shut in a desperate bid to get a grip on herself so she wouldn't cry in front of them. "I've never told anyone the whole story, not even my dad…"
· · ─────── · »—» ⟨ 🪶 ⟩ «—« · ─────── · ·
[30 JAN 2023 1030]
A few days passed before the doctor gave the go ahead for Vireo to be taken off of the IV drip and allowed to move around unassisted, which she was all too happy for. While the nurses had given her a sponge bath when she had been first admitted, a proper shower felt like luxury in comparison. Sure, she didn't have access to the nice scented soaps she used to own, but the military issued ones did the job well enough, even if it took three washes to feel like she had banished the grime from her skin.
She received a new change of clothes as well, although they were nothing special - just a basic olive tee and gray sweatpants - but they were clean and relatively comfortable so she couldn't complain. She was also given the option of using a cane since her knee made it hard to move around for long periods of time, and while it felt a little silly, she was ultimately grateful for the added mobility. Now if she could only figure out who to talk to about a haircut she would be well on her way to looking like a normal human being again. For the moment, she managed to beg a hair tie off of a younger nurse and fix her hair into a mostly straight dutch braid. While no one would probably care what she looked like, she still felt self-conscious about her appearance, especially when she planned to pay a visit to her former cellmate today.
Finding Soap's room turned out to be relatively easy since it seemed like the two of them were the only patients that required monitoring at the moment. His door was closed when she arrived, although Vireo could hear a slight murmur of voices from the other side. For a moment, she wondered whether she should come by another time, but she had already walked here and didn't care to return empty-handed as it were, so with a quick inhale she knocked.
"Come in!"
Opening the door, Vireo spotted Kyle first, sitting casually in a chair next to the hospital bed. Without all his tactical gear, he almost looked like a new person, to the point that she thought he could disappear into a crowd if he wanted and no one would know he was actually an elite soldier. Today he wore a gray hoodie and jeans, although the addition of a blue ball cap wasn't a fashion choice Vireo would have expected from a guy like him. Maybe he really was as easy-going as he made himself out to be?
The British man grinned when he noticed her. "Oh, it's Vireo." His expression turned slightly impish as he indicated Soap with a tilt of his head. "Good thing you stopped by, he's been asking about you ever since he woke up."
"You were worried about me?" Vireo asked, nudging the door shut with her elbow.
Soap let out a quiet huff, shooting Kyle a slightly annoyed look. "Course I was worried, someone had to be," he grumbled.
While he attempted to play off his concern, probably in an effort to save face, Vireo found the sentiment endearing. Despite being in worse shape than she had been, he seemed to care more about her well-being than his own. Having a stranger worry about her felt odd, but far from unwelcome after everything she had been through.
Vireo smiled, pulling up a chair across from Kyle and sitting down, letting her cane rest between her legs. "Maybe you should focus more on healing than me, eh?" she hummed.
Even though it had been almost a week since she last saw him, the Scot still looked a bit rough, but not as bad as he had before. His right wrist was in a cast, and Vireo glimpsed the edge of some bandages beneath his shirt, but other than the dressing on his head where the medical staff had shaved some of his hair, the rest of his injuries seemed mostly superficial. It was also encouraging to see him looking more rested and a healthy glow returning to his skin. Give it a few weeks and he would no doubt be back to normal.
Soap rolled his eyes and huffed. "Donnae ye start in on me as well, hen."
Kyle laughed, but when Vireo gave the men a confused look, he decided to elaborate. "The stubborn oaf barely let the doctors take a look before he tried breaking down the door. Only stopped when Price threatened to put him on extended bed rest."
The implication that Soap had fought to be by her side even in his injured state struck Vireo like a bullet to the heart, but she decided not to open that can of worms right away. Emotions were like a grenade without the pin, and she didn't want to make any assumptions without evidence to back up her suspicions. So instead, she chose to focus on the latter bit.
"Don't like sitting still then?"
"I cannae stand it!" The Scot exhaled and rubbed at his face with his free hand. "Doesn't help when a couple o' numpties keep coming round to remind me how stuck I am."
Kyle grinned, his eyes seeming to flicker with mischief. "What? Last I checked it wasn't a crime to show appreciation."
"Away an' bile yer heid, Gaz!"
The British man only laughed, even as Soap continued to glare at him.
Vireo waited until they had calmed down before asking another question. "How'd you end up with a - nickname? call sign? - like that, Kyle?"
"Call sign," he clarified. "Picked it up a couple years ago-"
"Yer on first name basis?" Soap cut in, his tone shifting from playful annoyance to something more serious.
Kyle raised an eyebrow and gave the Scot a slightly confused look. "No. I just told her my name during the rescue so she'd be more comfortable." Directing his attention back to Vireo, a small but lighthearted smile pinched at his cheeks. "You can call me whichever, although the squad usually just calls me Gaz."
"Well I'm not on your squad," she said with a soft chuckle. "I'll probably just stick with Kyle." Unable to help herself, she motioned to the Scotsman and added, "I do think it's a better nickname than Soap though."
The aforementioned soldier suddenly sat up straight, as if to protest, but Gaz held up a hand to stop him. "You just haven't seen him in the field," he remarked. "The lad can clean out a room faster than anyone else."
Vireo let out a quiet "oh" before giving the man in question a slightly apologetic look. "I'm sorry for implying it was silly."
He chuckled and waved her off. "Donnae worry about it, hen. I've heard far worse over the years."
The men bantered back and forth for a few minutes with Vireo occasionally inserting her own two cents where appropriate. However, her mind kept returning to the topic of names, specifically Soap's odd reaction to when she used Kyle's. Was he jealous? The thought seemed utterly ridiculous, but she couldn't think of any other reason. Combined with the way he supposedly lashed out at the medical staff, well, it felt…odd.
"So, what's the story behind your name?" Gaz asked out of the blue.
Vireo blinked, only just barely registering the question. "Eh, it's nothing too special. I just wanted something unique when I got my pilot's license." Drumming her fingers on her knee, she debated whether she should tell them more but ultimately decided not to risk getting into more personal topics. "It's also a reference to my given name… Um," she rubbed at the back of her neck, "I'm Aderyn - my dad once told me it means 'bird'."
Gaz smiled, standing up so he could reach over the hospital bed to offer his hand. "Good to meet you then," he said when Aderyn accepted the handshake. He looked like he wanted to say something else, although the gentle chime of his phone interrupted him. With a frown, he pulled the device from his pocket, letting out a sigh when he read the notification. "Sorry, Price wants to see me about something."
Aderyn waved off his apology. "That's alright, it was nice chatting with you."
"Likewise." He went to leave, although paused at the door and glanced back. "Have fun you two, but maybe not too much, yeah?" Before either could say anything, he flashed a mischievous smirk and ducked out.
"He's real lucky I'm laid up here," Soap muttered under his breath. "No' for much longer though if I have anything to say about it."
Aderyn chuckled and shook her head. "I feel like I'm back in high school again with the way you two like to bicker."
He got a sheepish expression at that. "It's jus' our dynamic. We donnae actually get upset most o' the time, an' he's a reliable teammate in the field." Settling back against the raised portion of the hospital bed, he let out a sigh and ran his free hand through his mohawk. "Sorry, I've been acting like a right bampot."
"Is something wrong?"
He shook his head. "Naw, nothing's wrong." Looking up at Aderyn, his expression softened, his eyes roaming over her face for a moment. "How've ye been? The doc treating ye right?" he inquired.
"I'm good, better than good really, and everyone's been…kind." She chewed at her lower lip which Soap's gaze immediately zeroed in on.
"Everyone?"
"Well, no one's been mean…" When he narrowed his eyes, Aderyn sighed. "Captain Price and a lady named Kate Laswell visited me the other day. They asked some questions about how I ended up in that prison and a couple others about my past."
Soap mulled over her admission for a moment. "I'm guessing it dinnae go well. Did ye want to tell me about it?"
"Not really," Aderyn murmured, shaking her head. "I'd rather focus on other things instead."
He hummed softly but didn't continue to push the issue. "If anyone gives ye a hard time, ye only need to tell me, alright? I'll give 'em a piece o' my mind…"
"Okay."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "So, whit do I call ye now?"
"Eh, I don't care at this point." Aderyn pursed her lips thoughtfully. "When we met, I wasn't sure if I could trust anyone so I didn't want to tell you my real name, but now that we're out, things are different."
"Actually, that's also why I only told ye my call sign."
"Seems we both were being cautious," she hummed. "Shall we start over?"
The Scot chuckled softly before sitting up straighter. "Why no'? I'm Sergeant John MacTavish, but most call me Soap."
"Ah, I imagine having two guys named John on the same taskforce would be confusing," Aderyn teased lightly, to which Soap gave a knowing look. Clearing her throat, she pressed a hand to her chest. "My name's Aderyn Cotes, no fancy rank like yours, although I don't mind if you want to keep calling me Vireo."
"Nice to meet ye, properly that is."
She gave him a small nod. "No yeah, it is."
A beat of silence settled between them, neither really seeming to know what to say next.
"I guess I should thank you," Aderyn ran a hand down her braid, mindlessly toying with the ends, "For being there, trying to defend me, convincing your team to help - for everything really."
"Aw, it was nothing." Soap adverted his eyes and rubbed at the back of his neck, looking a bit awkward all of the sudden. "I'm glad ye're safe now, although I wish I could've done more."
"More?" she echoed. "What more could you have done?"
He gave her a stern look. "Could've protected ye for one. I had to watch them touch ye, hurt ye, an' couldn't do a thing to stop it. I'm supposed to be the best of the best, an' I failed ye when it mattered the most."
"Soap…" Aderyn furrowed her brows and went to reach for him, although stopped herself before she could. "You didn't fail me. You gave me hope that I wouldn't die alone and forgotten. You're still a good soldier, and I'll forever be grateful for what you did."
The Scot eyed her for a long moment before shaking his head. "If ye say so, lassie," he murmured.
"I know it sucks feeling helpless and wishing you could have done something different, but you can't change the past. Things are okay now - everyone got out alive."
"Ah ken." He grimaced slightly before adding, "While I appreciate yer efforts, being on the receiving end of a pep talk still sucks."
Aderyn rolled her eyes. "You can't be the big tough soldier all the time, Soap. It's okay to let other people in when you're feeling down."
"I hate how right ye are."
"Believe me, I get it…" She pressed her lips together into a thin line. "I've been in your position before, more times than I care to admit really."
He tilted his head, giving her a curious look. "How'd ye get through it?" he asked.
Aderyn studied her fingers for a few seconds. Exhaling heavily, she replied, "My dad refused to let me be miserable, and I had a very patient therapist."
Soap nodded thoughtfully. "Cannae say I've ever been keen on seeing a shrink, but I'll at least consider it." He smiled at her and added, "Thanks by the way."
"Of course, I'm sure you'd try to encourage me if I was in your place."
"Ye wouldn't have to even ask."
After a moment of silence where neither of them felt the need to add anything more, Aderyn figured a conversation change was in order. "So," she started to say, unable to keep herself from smiling. "Did you really try to break down a door?"
"Naw, we're no' talking about that."
For the first time in a long time, she laughed, truly laughed until her sides ached and her cheeks burned from smiling. Soap rolled his eyes, trying his best to look annoyed, but as Aderyn wiped away the beginnings of happy tears, she caught him smiling like he had witnessed the best thing in years.
~~~
Hey! This is my first attempt at a Call of Duty fic, so if you liked it, I would massively appreciate reblogs as it helps a lot. Your support means the world to me! Thanks for reading this far if you did.
Taglist: @kathrynwilmot @graythereaper0428 rip I forgot to add this when I first uploaded the chapter so hopefully it works?
CW: Torture, Injury, Mentions of Blood, Derogatory Language, Potentially Inaccurate Russian
Summary: MW3 Fix-it, Long Fic, OC x Canon, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff & Angst, Soap has an accent, Military Inaccuracies, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Word Count: 5.8k
Also Available on AO3!
First & Next Chapter
After breaching the boundary of physical touch, Vireo began reaching through the bars every time the guards brought Soap back. Other than talking to him, this felt like the only form of comfort and encouragement that she could offer. So she kept at it, telling the Scot little tidbits about her country or surface level stories from her life, anything to get him to focus on more pleasant things than his daily torment. Unfortunately, as each day passed Vireo could tell he was only growing weaker, even though she continued trying to offer food to him. There was nothing she could do but listen to his suffering and futilely hope he wouldn't end up dying in this concrete box.
Most nights Vireo made sure to let go of his hand before either Georgy or Leonid made their morning rounds, but lately she began to linger by the bars for longer and longer. Soap couldn't move around without difficulty thanks to the pain from his injuries, and Vireo became increasingly reluctant to leave him alone lest she wake up to discover that he had stopped breathing. When she ended up falling asleep on the floor holding his hand, she knew she had become irrevocably attached. Could anyone blame her though? Soap was the first man she had spoken to in at least four years that didn't insult or assault her, so naturally her brain would latch onto his presence like a koala.
A week had passed since she met him, and when he died she would too.
This morning Vireo woke to the dreaded sound of heavy footsteps. Quickly, she sat up, dropping Soap's hand and attempting to shuffle away from the bars. It was too late to warn her neighbor, but she desperately hoped the guards wouldn't notice that his arm was still reaching towards her cell.
She heard a jingle of keys before the guards unlocked the other cell with a clatter.
"Вставать!" (Get up!)
Vireo flinched as one of them viciously kicked Soap in the side, eliciting a grunt of pain and what she suspected was a curse in Scots. Predictably this only caused both guards to retaliate physically and verbally.
"Пойдем. Maybe you will feel like speaking today." (Let's go.)
"Go to hell, I'm no' telling ye anything!" Soap growled, even as Vireo could hear the two guards hauling him out of the cell.
"Мы это еще посмотрим…" (We'll see about that…)
Despite not understanding the majority of what they said, their tones dripped with dark amusement and Vireo felt her chest fill with dread. Everyone had their breaking point. How much longer did Soap have? She had told him she would be there, but if they took him away now, she had a feeling that he wouldn't come back.
Without really thinking, she scrambled to her feet and darted to the bars, banging against them with her fists. "No, no, no! Leave him alone!" she shouted.
"Что это?" (What's this?)
The shorter one with a snake tattoo above his left eye - Georgy - approached her cell, cocking his head and fixing Vireo with a cruel smirk. "Эта шлюха думает, что может указывать нам, что делать," he said to Leonid, who only laughed. (The whore thinks she can tell us what to do.)
Vireo grit her teeth but refused to be intimidated. All this time she had kept her head down, acting as the perfect picture of submission, taking their derogatory insults on the cheek if it meant they would leave her alone. It hadn't mattered what they did since she had nothing to lose, that is until now with her neighbor about to be led to his death.
"Возьми ее," Leonid ordered. (Take her.)
Then Vireo's cell was unlocked for the first time in what felt like years. With nowhere to run, Georgy grabbed and roughly hauled her into the corridor. She tried to escape, but his hold remained firm and her arms were soon forced behind her back, secured tightly with a zip tie.
"This will be fun…" he muttered next to her ear, his voice eliciting a full body shudder.
They wanted to hear her scream and panic, but Vireo wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Biting her tongue, she straightened her spine and turned away from them, although in doing so she made eye contact with Soap for the first time.
The most striking features about him were his bright blue eyes. Despite the lines of exhaustion, bruises, and numerous cuts marking his skin that hadn't had a chance to heal, those eyes burned with anger. While his rage wasn't directed at her, it still sent a shiver down her spine. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would tear these men limb from limb with his bare hands, if not for the barrel of a rifle pressed to his chest.
She hadn't noticed before that Soap was taller than both guards, and while he only had a few centimeters on Leonid, it still put him among some of the tallest people she had met. He also had a lot more muscle mass than anyone she knew. Unlike many of the athletes she encountered in high school, his bulk seemed to be the result of rigorous training and discipline, rather than protein shakes and a weekly gym routine. She probably shouldn't have been too surprised since she had seen similarly built men before, but they weren't exactly common in civilian environments. Still, Soap was only human beneath all that muscle tissue, and the past week of torment had clearly taken its toll, to the point that he could barely remain standing without swaying back and forth. If it weren't for the rage flickering behind his eyes, Vireo would have thought the proud spirit of the soldier in front of her had already been broken, but he was clearly made of tougher stuff than most.
Soap seemed to be observing her just as intently as she was him, memorizing every detail of the woman who had kept him company for the past week. Being so closely scrutinized would normally make Vireo feel self-conscious, as the past four years had been anything but kind to her appearance, but with more pressing matters at hand she couldn't begin to care. Despite seeing her at the absolute lowest point in her life, Vireo could find no sign of disgust in his gaze - worry, sure, but there was a subtle flicker of warmth as well. What she would give to have him look at her like that forever, but nothing could stop what was coming.
A harsh shove between her shoulder blades nearly caused her to collapse in a heap.
"Move, шлюха!" Georgy growled. (whore)
She grimaced at the derogatory remark but quickly schooled her expression into a more neutral frown as she was made to walk down the corridor behind Leonid and Soap. Her eyes never strayed from the back of her neighbor's tattered mohawk, and she willed herself to remain brave for what would happen next.
· · ─────── · »—» ⟨ 🪶 ⟩ «—« · ─────── · ·
Eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight…
While staying in that cell had been far from pleasant, being marched through the concrete corridors of the prison felt infinitely worse. Thanks to her bad knee, Vireo couldn't move as quickly as Georgy liked, and he kept taking out his frustrations on her. Every few seconds he would shove her forwards or strike her shoulders with the barrel of his rifle in an attempt to "motivate" her to keep going. With no choice but to submit, Vireo could only keep moving towards the inevitable.
Ninety-nine, one hundred, one hundred one…
Until today she never understood why a creature might choose to stay in their cage even after the door had been unlocked. If all they had ever known was torment and pain from outside, why would they leave the one sanctuary they had? Sure the cage was small, cold, and uncomfortable, but it was easier to accept existing in those conditions when any hope all of freedom had been snuffed out. While she was no animal, she found herself wishing she had remained in her cage.
One hundred ten, one hundred eleven, one hundred twelve.
A third guard - Vireo faintly remembered his name being Egor - waited outside the interrogation room, although he only moved to open the door before returning to his post. The room itself looked almost exactly the same as she remembered it - crumbling mortar between gray bricks, exposed rusty pipes, a perpetual leak in one corner, the cracked concrete floor, the once white folding table now stained brown, the two dented and scratched metal folding chairs, and even the same unmistakable stench of mildew mixed with old pennies.
"Сидеть!" (Sit!)
Soap was harshly shoved into one of the chairs next to the table and his arms bound behind him. He hadn't looked at Vireo again since the corridor, and even now kept his eyes focused solely on the floor between his feet. His shoulders were as slumped as they could be considering his binds, emanating the utter despair that must be running through his mind.
All at once Vireo felt overwhelmingly guilty. Her only concern had been for his well-being when he was taken from the cells, and then she was so consumed by dread during the whole walk down here that she barely considered what mental anguish he must be going through. He must feel awful now that she had been roped into this situation, perhaps even blaming himself, despite none of it being his fault.
After Leonid appeared satisfied that Soap couldn't break loose, he moved the remaining chair several feet away from the table, although kept it positioned in the Scotsman's clear line of sight. Then Georgy made Vireo sit down as well and secured her arms behind the back rest in a mirror of her neighbor. Only then did the Russian stand off to the side, his rifle clasped firmly in an obvious show of intimidation.
"Now then." Leonid flattened his hands on the table, leering down at Soap. "I ask again, where is Captain Price?"
Soap clenched his jaw but said nothing.
The guard scowled before abruptly punching the Scot square across the jaw. "Ответь мне сейчас!" (Answer me now!)
Soap's head jerked to the side from the impact, but he otherwise refused to show pain. "Shut yer pus, ye lavvy heid," he spat, lifting his head just enough to glare at the man. "I'll never tell ye anything."
A pregnant pause settled as neither man seemed willing to break eye contact. Then, Leonid chuckled and muttered a profanity in Russian before eyeing Vireo. "Then we wait."
She felt a chill run down her spine as the man's eyes roved over her form, not bothering to hide the obvious way those beady orbs lingered in places they shouldn't.
"Ever been to Mariinsky Theatre - opera house in Saint Petersburg?" Leonid hummed, briefly glancing back at Soap.
Without waiting for an answer, the Russian smiled, although Vireo thought that he looked more like a hungry lion baring its teeth than a man. "I think little bird would fit right in. Remember how much she sang, Georgy?" he asked, giving his companion a knowing look out of the corner of his eye.
Vireo felt her breath catch in her throat as the two shared a humorless laugh. "Shut up. You don't get to call me that," she hissed through gritted teeth.
Suddenly, Leonid was in her face, his voice dangerously low. "Ah, I forget. Only dear papa gets to use that name, hm?"
Vireo adverted her gaze, inhaling shakily even as his fetid breath invaded her nostrils.
The man abruptly grasped her jaw and wrenched her face upwards. "Look at me when I speak!" A distinctly metallic click echoed throughout the room as he flicked open a switchblade, pressing it against her throat. "No matter. Шлюха always suited you better anyways." (Whore)
With a growled curse, Soap lurched forward all at once, only to be stopped by his binds. "I'll throttle ye wi' yer own vocal chords!" His accent sounded thicker than normal as he fought to close the distance between them.
Leonid only smiled, watching the furious Scot struggle for a few seconds before motioning for Georgy to intervene. The shorter man was quick to strike Soap across the temple with the butt of his rifle, eliciting a grunt of pain.
"Успокоиться!" (Settle down!)
"Answer our questions then." When Soap only glowered at them, Leonid stepped around to Vireo's right, not loosening his grip on her jaw for longer than a moment. "If not, she will end up with many more scars…"
The moment Georgy dragged her out of that cell Vireo knew she would end up here - knew that these monsters thought they could use her against her brother in binds. Their assumptions might be correct, if she had known him for more than a week, or really anything important about him for that matter. What they failed to realize however was that she had long given up any hope of ever getting out of this wretched place, and she also didn't care what they did anymore.
Vireo met the still enraged Scot's eyes with as much determination as she could muster. There was no doubt in her mind that Leonid would follow through on his threat, but that was okay. She had already been broken, and there was nothing anyone could do now that held any power over her.
"Don't betray them on my account," she admonished.
No sooner had the words left her lips did Leonid slap her harshly across the face. The initial whiplash soon gave way to a familiar dull throb, and Vireo instinctively went to touch her cheek, only to remember her arms were still restrained.
"You don't talk unless I ask question," the lion-faced man snarled.
Taking a shaky breath, Vireo pressed her nails into her palms in an attempt to keep the panic from taking over. She could handle this. It was no different from before, except this time they weren't trying to getting information from her.
"Now..." The knife pressed into her cheek just shy of breaking the delicate skin. "Tell me the location of Captain John Price," Leonid directed at Soap.
Silence.
If Vireo wasn't staring directly at the Scot, she might have missed the way his eyes widened a fraction, how for a moment fear flickered in those cerulean depths before being smothered by a carefully constructed mask of indifference.
"Shame."
The metal bit into her flesh and dragged down, eliciting a hiss of pain but nothing more.
"Where is 141 stationed?"
Another cut, this time above her temple.
"I will keep asking until you answer. We can do this all night…"
· · ─────── · »—» ⟨ 🪶 ⟩ «—« · ─────── · ·
The clamour of an alarm shocked Vireo back to consciousness like a bucket full of ice water. Panic took hold when she found herself unable to move and nearly blind in the now darkened room save for the flashing emergency light by the door. Her vision felt like it was swimming, and every time she moved her head, a throbbing pain made her want to scream. Her arms were still bound to the chair, although a quick look around proved she was alone, save for the slumped over shadow sitting across from her.
"Soap…" she cried, voice still hoarse. "C'mon! You can't die here!"
Even in the poor lighting, Vireo could see it was bad. The interrogation must have lasted hours, but she couldn't be sure since she started disassociating after a couple minutes, evidently passing out from shock as well. Fresh bruises bloomed across the Scot's skin, a sizable wound still oozed blood on the side of his head, and there were numerous jagged cuts across his face and arms as well as undoubtedly many more injuries that she couldn't see from her position. Despite everything, Vireo felt most concerned about the possibility of a concussion or some other head injury, and while she probably should've been concerned about her own injuries, she couldn't focus anywhere but on him.
"Soap, please wake up…" She felt her throat start to burn as a sob threatened to break the surface. "Don't leave me…"
"No' leaving, lassie."
If her heart hadn't stopped at the faint whisper of his voice, it definitely did the moment those blue eyes met her own once more. Hot tears spilled unbidden down her cheeks, but she was helpless to scrub them away, even as the cuts on her cheeks burned anew.
"You better not," Vireo hiccupped. "I can't follow if you do…"
"Och, none o' that now." His gaze never wavered from hers, the earlier intense fury softening into something gentler, almost sympathetic.
Vireo opened her mouth to ask how he could be so blasé about everything, but before she could get the words out, a crackle of gunfire cut through the din. Could it be the guards? She didn't know how many prisoners were held in this complex - or if it was just her and the Scot at the moment - but if this wasn't an attempted break out, why else would there be shooting? She supposed another party could be trying to break in, although if that was the case, what did that mean for her? There was no way of knowing whether they were friendly, or if they would treat her worse than her captors had.
"Guess that's why they finally left us alone," she muttered, briefly glancing towards the door.
Soap only grunted in response, leading Vireo to suppose that talking must be monumentally difficult for him right now.
"Do you think it could be your team? Or maybe someone else?" She didn't expect an answer since she was mostly just trying to fill the silence and give the poor man something to focus on. "Try to stay awake, okay? I'm still here for you."
The gunfire continued for a few minutes before slowly petering out, leaving only the blaring alarm as evidence of the disruption. Vireo strained to listen for anything that might indicate survivors or which side had prevailed in the firefight. Faintly, she detected a scuff of boots out in the corridor followed by a subtle scraping of metal. The doorknob jingled only to prove locked because of course it was. She held her breath, unable to look away even from the door as her heart threatened to burst from her chest.
Something slid between the lock and the frame, maybe a pry bar, and with a violent clatter, the old mechanism failed under the brute force of the invader. Slowly, the door creaked open, and the gleam of gunmetal emerged from the darkness. Then, a hulking shadow appeared, scanning the room quickly but methodically like a predator on the prowl. He was dressed head to toe in black tactical gear, save for the stark white skull where a face should be, looking like the spitting image of death itself.
Vireo couldn't speak. Who could when staring into the cold eyes of the grim reaper made flesh? How many had glimpsed that mask and lived to tell the tale? How many hundreds more had perished at the hand of this relentless phantom? The masked soldier briefly regarded her, assessing in a moment that she posed no threat, but how could she after being restrained and brutalized like an animal? Instead, those dark eyes flicked to Soap, the figure already moving to check on her neighbor.
"Yer a sight fo' sore eyes, Lt…" the Scottish man chuckled, although it soon devolved into a raspy cough.
Rather than respond, the phantom reached for the radio clipped to his vest. "Bravo 0-7 to Actual," he growled. "I 'ave him, headin' to exfil now." Not even waiting for a reply from whoever was on the end of the line, the gruff man pulled a combat knife from his belt, slicing through Soap's bindings like they were nothing.
As the mysterious soldier hooked an arm beneath the Scot's armpits, Soap raised a hand to stop him. "Wait. No' without her," he groaned.
The soldier paused, glancing to Vireo through narrowed eyes. "Can you walk?"
She stiffened at the rough but clipped calibre of his voice. This sounded like a man used to shouting orders and throwing his weight around where required to get the job done. In other words, someone she definitely did not want to disrespect.
"I… I think so," she stammered.
He let out an irritated huff before crossing the room. " 'm not carryin' you out of 'ere so keep up." Just one of his hands could encompass her forearm, and he punctuated his words by roughly slicing through the zip tie restraining her wrists, uncaring when the plastic edges cut into the raw skin. "You copy?"
Vireo grit her teeth, tentatively rubbing at her wrists in an attempt to restore circulation. "Loud and clear, sir."
Without another word, the gruff soldier hauled Soap to his feet with some effort and turned to leave the room. Vireo scrambled to follow, although a sudden dizzy spell forced her to brace against the nearby wall for a moment to keep from collapsing into a heap. Emerging into the hallway, she managed to limp after the two soldiers, the threat of once again being left to rot motivating her to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Bits and pieces of conversation flitted back to her. The phantom soldier relaying the presence of an additional body to the rest of his team, and Soap chiding him for being so dismissive of his fellow prisoner before being told to shut up and focus on moving. While Vireo understood where her rescuer's immediate disdain came from - infiltration missions like this could go to hell in the blink of an eye - she couldn't help feeling somewhat resentful. He was acting like she personally begged to go along and wouldn't shut up until he relented. To be fair, she might have tried if Soap hadn't spoke up first.
At one point, she nearly tripped over a body, and a quick glance down revealed the bloodied uniform of a guard. In an instant she recognized the crooked snake tattoo etched into the skin above Georgy's left eye. His eyes were glassy, permanently frozen in a snapshot of fear, as if he had a moment of clarity just before the end. Maybe at one time Vireo would've been horrified by the sight, but after all the torment she had endured by his hands it almost felt satisfying to see the man dead. Her only disappointment lay in the fact that it wasn't Leonid on the floor instead, but she could still hope that he died in a particularly painful or slow manner. As far as she was concerned, the bastard didn't deserve the mercy of a quick end like Georgy had received.
The air grew colder the further Vireo got from that miserable room, and when she reached the garage, it became very apparent why. The roll away doors had been blown open, letting in the frigid wind and occasional flakes of snow. Despite the bullet holes in the walls, blood splatters, and slumped over bodies, she momentarily found herself transfixed at the sight of the night sky peeking through the gap at the top of the doors. Four years of nothing but gray bricks and cracked concrete had brought her here. The fresh air felt invigorating, despite the freezing cold and her lack of insulating clothing, but it elicited a smile all the same.
The moment was interrupted by the emergence of two other soldiers, one of which began moving towards her while the other hurried to help carry Soap. The man heading her way wore similar gear as the others, albeit in more traditional military colours, but her eyes were drawn to the M13 assault rifle in his hands and without thinking, she stumbled backwards.
Her initial fear seemed to catch the new soldier's attention, and he paused a few paces away, lifting a hand as if to reach for her but hesitating. "Easy, we're here to help," he placated, the warm tenor of his voice acting as a soothing balm to her long shattered nerves. When she relaxed slightly, he tentatively closed the gap, resting his hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you to the helo."
Vireo nodded, allowing the man to support her weight as he led her out into the courtyard where a helicopter waited. The snow stung her bare feet, but she grit her teeth in an attempt to bear the pain, because what was a little discomfort while being rescued? The temptation to look up at the sky again lingered, although the presence of the soldier at her side served to ground her firmly in reality. There would be time for staring at the stars afterwards.
The soldier in black helped Soap inside the helicopter, but before Vireo could even think of clambering up as well, someone lifted her inside like she weighed nothing. She scrambled out of the way as the remaining two soldiers climbed into the cabin and pulled the door closed behind them.
In the dim overhead lights, she could get a better look at them. The man who helped her aboard had a kind but serious face with warm sepia skin and amber eyes. He was clean-shaven, save for a short black mustache, and she noticed two small parallel scars on his left cheek that were too clean to be from shrapnel. He looked to be around her age or maybe a tad older, and while it was hard to tell with all his gear, he seemed to have a more lean build compared to Soap. Conversely, the second man looked older in a grizzled sort of way that spoke of years in the field under all manner of conditions. He had greyish-blue eyes and carried himself like a man who demanded respect, although his brown mutton chops and matching mustache hinted at a more nonconformist attitude towards his career. His build seemed stocky, somewhat like a bear, and he also had a couple of centimeters on the younger officer. While Vireo couldn't know everything about a person just by observing them, there seemed to be an inherent honesty to each of them that helped ease her anxiety ever so slightly.
The older man - Vireo supposed he must be the leader - scrutinized her for a moment, as if trying to figure out why she had been locked in that decrepit facility. His gaze felt heavy, not exactly judgmental, but it made her want to rip that door back open and leap out into the night all the same. Then, he looked away, giving a wordless nod to the younger man before heading off to converse with the pilot.
"Hey."
Vireo blinked, turning her attention back to the younger officer.
He smiled and offered a hand. "Let's get you to a seat, yeah? Sometimes these things can get a bit rough, and we got a long flight ahead of us."
With a nod, Vireo let him help her sit down and get buckled in. The position put her directly across from Soap for the second time today, and she noted the soldier in black was performing first aid on the Scot. Evidently, he would require more extensive medical care when the chopper arrived at wherever it was headed, but Vireo felt like she could breathe a sigh of relief now that she knew he would be looked after.
She nearly jumped when the officer from before appeared at her side again, this time carrying a med kit and clearly intending to treat her injuries as well. He noticed, of course he did, giving an apologetic look as he sat down next to her.
"I'm Sergeant Garrick, but you can call me Kyle if you'd like." Vireo noted he was using a slightly softer tone now that any threats had passed. "What's your name?" he asked.
She chewed at her lower lip for a moment, debating if she should trust him or the rest of the men in this helicopter. They weren't like her captors, probably, and other than Soap, she was pretty sure they were all British. Perhaps these men could get her home seeing as their country had a long-standing alliance with her own? Still, she wanted to keep at least some semblance of control and giving up something as personal as her name was hard.
"I'd prefer to be called Vireo if you don't mind."
Kyle nodded. "Of course." His fingers idly toyed with the clasps on the med kit, and Vireo could feel his eyes studying the extent of her injuries. "We'll make sure a doctor sees you when we get back to base, but are you alright with me taking care of some of these cuts?" he asked.
The fact that he had bothered to ask rather than immediately touch her was something she appreciated more than he could know. After so long of having little to no agency over herself, just having the option to decline felt refreshing, even if both of them knew that she wouldn't.
"Yeah, that's fine."
He smiled again, and it struck Vireo that he had an almost boyish look about him. The easy friendliness he displayed suited the officer, although she had a feeling that he was mostly just trying to reassure her fears. For all he or anyone else on the heli knew she was only a traumatized civilian. While technically true, Vireo liked to think that she was handling everything better than most in her position would.
After removing his combat gloves and swapping them for a pair of rubber ones, Kyle paused. "Do you have any allergies? Like latex or anything?" When Vireo shook her head, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "That's good. If you couldn't tell, I'm not exactly a doctor, but I can at least patch you up a bit."
His comment almost made her smile. "It's fine, do what you need to." She waved him off dismissively, then added as a second thought, "I'm sure you're more than competent."
The rubbing alcohol stung as he worked to clean and disinfect the cuts on her face. She tried not to flinch, but Kyle at least looked sorry whenever she let out a pained hiss.
"Where are you from, Vireo?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Canada, Northern Alberta specifically."
"You're a long way from home then."
She shrugged. "Suppose so, temperature is about the same, although I don't know about anything else."
Kyle nodded as if he understood, which maybe he did, but Vireo suspected he was only talking in an effort to distract her from the pain. "We'll make sure you get home as soon as we can," he responded.
"Eh, what's a few extra days or weeks? Pretty sure I'm considered dead at this point."
Her admittedly rather flippant remark made the Brit pause and lean back a bit to look at her properly. "How long were you there?" he asked carefully.
"Four-ish years?" Vireo scrunched her nose as she considered the question. "Well, give or take a few weeks since I wasn't exactly coherent all the time at first."
In her peripheral vision, she noticed the phantom soldier - who's name she still didn't know - briefly turn to look at her, although he soon returned to his task. Kyle seemed a little taken aback as well, momentarily stumped for words as he moved on from her facial injuries to her shoulders and arms.
"That's rough," he finally said. "And I'm not trying to sound dismissive either. You've been through hell, but you're safe now, alright?"
"Thanks."
Kyle didn't ask many more questions after that, instead focusing on doing his best to look after the rest of Vireo's injuries, bandaging what he could as he went. Now that he was not immediately in her face, she unconsciously began zoning out as he continued working. In doing so, Vireo found herself staring at Soap, specifically studying the bone structure of his face and the breadth of his shoulders. Even injured, he looked good, and Vireo almost wanted to just feel up his muscles, although she knew both these soldiers would likely stop her if she tried. Kyle would probably at least be nice about it since he struck her as the gentlemanly type, but the unnamed brute could just as easily pull a knife on her if he didn't raise his voice first. Vireo decided she liked Kyle the best, even if she had known him for less than an hour.
Soap's head suddenly lolled to the side, exhaustion overtaking him, only to be roughly shaken awake again.
"Concussion," Kyle helpfully supplied. "Can't risk him falling asleep until we get him seen by a doctor."
"Makes sense," Vireo hummed. "I was pretty worried about that, but the only thing I could do back there was talk to him."
"He's tough, I'm sure he'll be fine."
She nodded slowly, before letting her skull fall back against the headrest, wincing ever so slightly.
Kyle moved to examine her head, apparently catching her reaction and letting out a curse under his breath. "I should've checked earlier, but how are you feeling?"
"Like my head's gonna explode," Vireo huffed.
"Any nausea, dizziness, or sensitivity to lights and sounds?"
"I was a bit dizzy and felt like I was seeing double earlier." When Kyle pressed his lips into a thin line, Vireo groaned. "You're not going to let me sleep either now, huh?"
He shook his head. "Afraid not. You might only have a mild concussion, but I'd rather not risk it."
With a scowl, Vireo crossed her arms and curled up into the seat the best she could. "Just my luck…" she grumbled.
Kyle got up briefly to put the med kit away but soon returned to sit down again. With a gentle nudge to get her attention, he passed Vireo a pair of head phones which she felt incredibly grateful for since as it stood, the loud clap of the rotors were only agitating her headache further. It was tempting to fiddle with the headset, maybe tune into their comms and eavesdrop a little, but that seemed like a potentially poor decision at the moment. The last thing Vireo wanted to do was get on her rescuers' bad sides, so she resigned herself for a long and likely boring wait.
True to his word, Kyle nudged her shoulder every few minutes whenever her eyelids began to drift shut. Vireo resorted to trying every technique she knew to stay awake - fiddling with her fingernails, bouncing her knee, holding one foot slightly off the ground, and more to mixed success. It was frustrating to say the least, but what was a few more hours of waiting compared to several years?
~~~
Hey! This is my first attempt at a Call of Duty fic, so if you liked it, I would massively appreciate reblogs as it helps a lot. Your support means the world to me! Thanks for reading this far if you did.
Taglist: @kathrynwilmot @graythereaper0428 let me know if you would like to be added (or removed) for future instalments (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
I think I'll aim to post a new chapter of my cod fic each week. That seems reasonable enough since it takes me around that to get the rough drafts done. So, new chapter tomorrow if I'm not too tired tonight after work to get it formatted right.
Gonna push the chapter to tomorrow morning (for me) since I didn't get to it last night. Working on getting it ready today and might just post it on ao3 early? This one's a doozy, but I can say the ending helps soften the angst.
I think I'll aim to post a new chapter of my cod fic each week. That seems reasonable enough since it takes me around that to get the rough drafts done. So, new chapter tomorrow if I'm not too tired tonight after work to get it formatted right.
Going on Tumblr today was a mistake because I just saw pics from the mw4 trailer. I mean, I'm sure Price vs Ghost will be cool, but I like these two a lot. I dunno Price definitely deserves this after killing Shepherd but I'm secretly hoping they'll just team up again. Please don't make Soap's death be for nothing Activision!
CW: Implied/Referenced Torture
Summary: MW3 Fix-it, Long Fic, OC x Canon, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff & Angst, Soap has an accent, Military Inaccuracies, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Word Count: 5.3k
Also available on AO3!
Next Chapter
Vireo was tired of staring at the colour grey all day. She sat with her back pressed against the cinder blocks where two walls converged, right knee tucked against her chest while her left lay outstretched on the floor. Barely more than a foot away, a ratty mattress taunted her with the promise of marginally more comfort than cold concrete, but she remained still, nestled into the corner as best as she was able. Somewhere beyond the bars, water dripped from a leaky pipe and the florescent lights never stopped emitting the high-pitched buzzing that made her want to rip out her matted locks. Her throat felt dry, to the point that merely swallowing hurt, and her stomach rumbled every few seconds even as she tried her best to ignore the hunger pangs. The stench of rusted metal and mildew permeated her lungs with every inhale, but it was somewhat preferable to the other smells in this place. No matter where she turned, everything was as dull and uninteresting as it had been a thousand times before.
Then, two distinct sets of boots stomped down the hall, causing her heart to leap into her throat. Why were they both coming? Only one of them ever brought her meal around, and since they hadn't today, she wondered if this was it.
They must have finally decided to get rid of her.
Then, her ears picked up on a different sound, like something being dragged across the floor. As the guards drew closer, she noted their laboured breathing, as if whatever they were carrying was cumbersome or heavy. She kept her gaze firmly lowered in a futile attempt to appear invisible as they reached her cell. Even as her jagged fingernails threatened to draw blood with how desperately she clenched her fists, she could feel the panic roiling in her gut. It seemed that hunger was the least of her worries now. She heard their keys jingle together as they searched for the correct one, but when it took longer than normal, she couldn't help chancing a peek to see why.
That was when Vireo saw him. Flanked by the two guards she hated the most, Leonid and Georgy, was a tall stocky man. His body was slumped, having to be supported by the guards to remain upright, and his head drooped so that she couldn't see much of his face.
The first thing she noticed about the man was his hairstyle. He had an actual mohawk. It wasn't the longest she had seen and the brunette strands were rather mussed, but it looked well kept for the most part. Secondly, he had several nasty looking bruises developing over his jaw. He was tanned, like he spent a lot of time working outside, but despite his darker skin tone the red splotches stood out clearly. Third, he had on camouflage pants and not the fake kind - they were actual military issued, likely part of a uniform too. From what she could see, this man didn't have any gear or patches signifying his home country on him, but the guards would have confiscated anything like that.
Despite her curiosity, Vireo dropped her head again. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself, but she couldn't help wondering about this man. Who was he? Why was he here? Would they keep him for a while or was this just a temporary thing? A selfish part of her hoped it would be long enough to learn the answers, and could anyone blame her? She had been alone for so long, confined to this cell with nothing to do but wait, and now she had a chance at companionship.
With a clatter, the door to the cell next to her was opened, and the guards heaved the man inside. Leonid muttered a curse in Russian, followed by a possibly derogatory remark directed at the new prisoner by Georgy before the two locked up the cell again.
Only once their footsteps faded away did Vireo raise her head, holding her breath as she strained to listen for any other sounds before crawling to the front of her own cell. The man seemed to be breathing, but he didn't move no matter how long she waited. Perhaps he was unconscious, although there was no real way for her to check without calling out to him. Maybe she would wait until he woke up before attempting to make conversation.
As the hours passed with no sign of the guards, Vireo found herself staring at the wall above the mattress. She had a tradition of adding a tally mark whenever they brought food since it served as the only real indication of time passing, but now she couldn't decide if she should scratch another line into the brick or not. Surely it had been long enough for a day to have gone by, right? She considered it for a moment longer before deciding that the arrival of the stranger at least warranted being recorded.
Retrieving the small sliver of brick she kept hidden in the mattress, she made a new line next to the previous set of tallies, although this one was longer than any of the others to make it stand out more. As she stepped back to survey her handiwork, she couldn't help frowning at the sheer number of tally marks carved into the cinder blocks. Rather than the traditional grouping of five tallies, she had chosen to cluster them in sets of seven to signify when a week had passed. If she was honest with herself she never expected to have lasted this long, but what had started out as a rough calendar soon spanned the majority of one wall and spilled over to the next.
Curiosity compelled her to count them for the first time in a while, mostly to know what day her new neighbour arrived, but as she finished her eyes began to water. There were two hundred and four weeks staring back at her. Granted, that was only what she had been able to record, but if her mental math wasn't wrong, that added up to almost four years - give or take a couple weeks. Closing her eyes, she focused on taking deep breaths until she felt more composed again. Crying wouldn't do her any good at this point.
How much longer must she wait?
With a heavy heart, she crawled onto the mattress, intent on trying to get some sleep. She laid down on her stomach, folding her arms above her head in an effort to block out the light and for some semblance of protection. Sleep never came easy - not with how much sound carried through this place - but even if it did, she rarely slept more than a few hours at a time. Sometimes she tried counting the cracks in the floor or how often the leaky pipe dripped, but eventually unconsciousness would claim her weary body.
· · ─────── · »—» ⟨ 🪶 ⟩ «—« · ─────── · ·
The day began with a ruckus. Both guards returned to the man next door, and Vireo was quite rudely awoken by traded insults between the parties. She couldn't really understand the Russians beyond a word or two, but the stranger responded in English, albeit with an accent that she struggled to place. There was a bit of a scuffle before all three left the cell and she was alone again.
With nothing to do but wait some more, Vireo rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Would they bring him back? She sighed even as her eyes wandered over the cracks in the concrete, briefly noting a new one had formed at some point although her mind continued to wander. When she eventually sat up she had to swipe her hair away from her eyes, which led her to try taming the scraggly black strands with her fingers, but without a brush this proved to be a fruitless endeavour and she soon gave up. There didn't seem to be much point in fussing over her appearance anyways, not when the only people around were the guards. Well, there was that new guy now, but she didn't think she would be seeing much of him.
The moment she tried to stand up, her left knee protested the action and she had to take a moment to massage the joint before the pain began to subside somewhat. It seemed like today was going to be a rough one. However, she couldn't stand the thought of staying still all day, so she spent some time stretching in an effort to relieve the soreness. After a couple minutes she felt able to walk a little but kept one hand braced against the wall in case she fell.
For the next couple hours she occupied herself with occasionally pacing around the small space and staring at the walls when she got tired. Her mind felt like it was racing with questions, such as who the person they tossed in the cell was or why he was even here in the first place. What she did know was that his voice sounded rough, possibly from poor sleep or injury, and the accent wasn't one she could remember encountering before. It definitely sounded European, possibly of Celtic origin? If only she had familiarized herself with more cultures before ending up in this box.
When the guards returned, they shoved the stranger into the neighbouring cell with little care as to whether his skull collided with the concrete floor or not. Vireo heard him mutter a curse, although it was immediately followed by the sickening impact of a boot hitting flesh and a pained groan before the guards took their leave. Once it was safe, Vireo shuffled to the bars and for a moment she wondered what to say, what the first words uttered in years to a man not leering over her should be.
"Probably not the wisest to insult a guy's mother when he's still within arm's reach," she murmured, cringing at the scratchy tone of her voice after remaining silent for so long.
At first there was no response, and she began to wonder if the stranger had even heard her at all. Then, a shifting sound as he drew closer to the bars, possibly mimicking her own position.
"Aye, but I dinnae have a better weapon at the moment."
Suppressing a small smile, Vireo shook her head despite knowing the man couldn't see it. "Not sure if you're incredibly brave…or just foolish."
A pause. "Bit o' both probably."
She couldn't help the small huff of amusement that left her chest. Despite having barely exchanged more than a few words, she already found herself liking this strange man. Maybe it was his straightforward manner of speech, or maybe it was just the sheer relief to converse with a kindred soul after so long.
"You got a name, lassie?" the man asked, voice somehow softer than before.
Chewing at her already battered thumbnail, she debated how to answer. She could be truthful, but she didn't know if this man was worth trusting yet. "I go by Vireo."
"A call sign?"
"I suppose you could call it that," she hummed. "What about you? Got a name, or should I just keep thinking of you as the stranger next door?"
"I'm called Soap."
"Soap?" Vireo pressed her hand to her lips, as if it were possible to suppress her amusement at the frankly absurd moniker. "No offense, but that doesn't seem like the best name to have in a prison."
A stunned silence perhaps, then, "Well I dinnae choose it. 's no' how call signs work…" He shuffled around a bit before continuing. "They have to be given, an' most aren't flattering. Cannae say I've heard one like yers before though."
"Well then, I suppose mine's not a proper call sign since I came up with it myself." Vireo lightly drummed her fingers against the rusty bars. "It's a type of small bird known for preferring tall trees or dense shrubbery."
"Ah, I see. Donnae worry yer pretty heid over it. Yer secret's safe wi' me."
"All this talk of call signs, are you military or something?" she asked, lowering her tone to a whisper.
"Something like that…" he responded in kind. "Since ye had to ask, I'm guessing ye're not?"
Vireo snorted. "Oh definitely not!" Licking her cracked lips, she added in a more tempered manner, "Nah, I was a pilot."
"Really? Wings or rotors?"
"Chopper."
Soap gave an impressed hum. "Did ye work wi' a company? Like, I dunno, an airline?"
"I considered it, but that wasn't what I wanted to do." There was a beat of silence before she realized that he wished for her to explain. "Maybe this sounds lame, but I like helping people. Where I'm from there's a lot of remote communities, and most of the time it's easier to get a helo in to transport supplies rather than trying to risk the roads, if there are any at all that is."
"No' lame in the slightest, lassie. Ye make it sound right noble."
Vireo felt her cheeks grow warm and made a noise of clearing her throat in an attempt to disguise her embarrassment. "I…wouldn't necessarily call it noble. There was a need, and I had the ability to fill it, provided they had the means to pay anyways."
"Still. I'd wager you've made a difference for a lot o' folks out there."
"Yeah." She nodded to herself. "I'm proud of what I accomplished."
· · ─────── · »—» ⟨ 🪶 ⟩ «—« · ─────── · ·
Vireo's eyes roamed the ceiling, mentally tracing each crack for the nth time. The guards had taken her neighbour away again in the morning and only recently returned him. She didn't need to ask to know what had been happening in the hours he was absent, but she still couldn't help wondering whether they had developed new torture techniques or were using the same ones.
"They'll grow bored eventually," she murmured to the wall. "I think it was a month before they realized I didn't know anything worthwhile? I've kind of just been waiting around ever since."
"Doubt I'll have that luxury, lassie."
Vireo chewed at her lower lip before sighing. "Sorry, you probably don't want to think about current events."
A quiet grunt was her only indication that Soap agreed. After a few moments, he shifted from his place on the other side of the wall. "What are ye waiting for?" he asked in a low voice.
"I..." She hesitated for a second to answer. "I guess just for everything to end?"
The man exhaled slowly. "How... How long have ye been here?"
"Too long." Vireo huffed and shook her head, briefly glancing at the wall of tally marks. "Nearly four years actually..."
"Bloody hell…" A slight rustle like he ran a hand through his hair. "No wonder ye're so jaded."
A frankly unattractive snort forced its way from her chest before she could stop it. "I would've used the word apathetic."
"Why are ye here anyways?"
Rather than answer, Vireo chuckled, biting her lower lip to suppress a smile. "Man, you're really bad at prison etiquette. Didn't you know? Everyone here's innocent."
"My bad, lassie. But can ye blame a guy for assuming ye had plenty of…experience?" His normally deep baritone took on a lighter, more playful note, leaving her scrambling for a response.
Never had Vireo ever been grateful that she was separated from others by the grey walls. While it prevented her from reading Soap's facial expressions to determine what his intentions were, it also meant he couldn't see the way her cheeks flushed red. Was she that starved for human interaction that the slightest hint of an innuendo had her this flustered? She mentally slapped herself for even considering that he meant it like that. For all she knew, he was just messing with her.
"Nah, just used to watch a lot of movies," she answered, doing her best to play it cool. "Really it's more that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Ah ken."
Staring at the ceiling, Vireo couldn't help but frown. While she usually could understand what her neighbour meant despite his accent, this time she wasn't entirely sure. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she asked, "Sorry, but where on earth are you from? I've been wracking my brain ever since yesterday, but I can't figure it out…"
A sudden burst of laughter caused her to startle and accidentally thump her head against the wall. Rubbing her scalp, she shot an irritated look at the bricks, as if she could shut him up with her mind.
"What? It's no' obvious?"
"Well I don't want to offend you by guessing wrong!" she spluttered.
Soap snickered. "Ah, ye cannae get under my skin so easily!" In a quieter voice, he added, "…Jus' so long as ye donnae say Irish."
Vireo's silence seemed to speak louder than any words she could've mustered, and a small thump suggested her neighbour had let his head knock back against the brick wall as well.
"Och, an' here I thought we had something going, lassie," he grumbled, although his tone held no real bite.
"In my defense, I don't know a lot of European folks. Besides, I doubt you could do any better…"
"Aye, if I say American you'll get yer knickers in a twist, won't ye?" He chuckled softly before adding, "Because it's more nuanced than that, right? Ye could be from the Midwest or even New England for all I ken."
"Okay, now you're just pulling my leg," Vireo grumbled. "You probably don't even know what most American accents sound like."
"Naw, but ye got me curious now."
"Tell me about you, and I'll do the same?"
"Fair enough." He shifted his body, possibly in a vain attempt to get more comfortable. "I'm from Scotland, born an' raised."
"I should've known," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Now that you've told me, it's so obvious…"
Quiet chuckles petered through the bricks. "Ah, donnae feel bad, lassie. I'm used to being ragged on about my blethering."
"Okay, so long as you don't feel bad about calling me American."
He made a small noise of confusion.
Vireo bit her lip in an attempt to conceal her amusement. "I'm Canadian, Soap."
"Ah… Do eejits muck it up a lot?" he rumbled.
"More than you'd expect."
"Ah ken, Ah ken."
· · ─────── · °∘.•｡˙∘🧼∘˙｡•.∘° · ─────── · ·
All Johnny could do was lean against the brick wall and focus on breathing. Today marked three days since he had been captured, which wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things, but the whole ordeal was already having adverse affects on him. He had gone through training for interrogation resistance, and this wasn't even the first time he'd been tortured, but no mock scenario could compare to the real thing. Still, no matter what they did, how much they threatened, he remained determined not to let anything slip about his team or their mission.
He hadn't meant to get captured in the first place. Thinking back to the disastrous events of the op, he knew he shouldn't have taken so many risks - should've listened when Price ordered everyone to retreat - but there were civilians in danger. If he had pushed harder, defused the bomb faster, been more aware of his surroundings, then he wouldn't be locked in this concrete box. It had been his fault and now he was paying for it.
The guilt and regret weighed heavily on his mind. He had never been one for religion, despite how much it broke his poor old gran's heart, but now he was beginning to wonder if there had been a point to all those long-winded services after all. As it stood, he didn't think he would be getting out of here by his own strength. His body was only growing weaker by the day, and it felt like a permanent haze lingered in the forefront of his mind no matter how much he tried to rest. While he knew his team was most likely tearing the country apart in an effort to find him, a small voice in the back of his skull doubted they would make it in time, if they were even coming at all that is.
Would serve you right for being so thick in the head...
It had been the same song and dance ever since he joined up. Too impulsive. Too headstrong. Not enough sense. He had heard these things all his life, believed them at times too, but he never stopped trying to prove himself. For years, his commanding officers had written him off as just "the new guy" and underestimated his abilities. Price had seemed different, but Johnny knew he had been responsible for keeping the older man up at night many times over with his antics. Perhaps his second chances had run out, and Command would decide a rescue wasn't worth it, forcing the team to move on without him.
A soft scrapping sound from the hallway jolted him back to the present.
"Soap." It was the woman on the other side of the wall. "Here..."
Johnny barely managed to drag himself to the rusty bars, but his heart sank when he peeked out. In the gap between his and the neighbouring cell was a plastic tray with a little bowl of what looked to be more broth than soup and piece of stale bread.
"Lassie-"
"They haven't been feeding you," Vireo interrupted. "Take it; you need to keep your wits about you."
It was true. If not for being waterboarded, he hadn't so much as eaten or drank in days. While he had been able to ignore the hunger, dehydration would become a problem quickly, and he needed to maintain as much mental clarity as possible if he was to survive. Still, this could barely be considered a meal. If he accepted, then she would be going without, and he hated the thought of making her suffer.
"I cannae do that..."
The woman huffed and probably rolled her eyes at his protest. "Yes, you can. Clearly they don't expect you to last long and..." She fell quiet for a moment. "...and I don't want you to die," she finished in a soft whisper.
When he still hesitated to accept, she clicked her tongue. "Don't worry about me; I'll be fine. Just take it before one of the guards comes by and catches us."
Seeing as Vireo wasn't going to take no for an answer, Johnny gave in, even as a small part of him screamed that this might be a trick. The woman could easily have been planted next door in an effort to either manipulate or potentially drug him.
When he finished eating, Johnny slid the tray back towards Vireo's cell, although he lingered by the bars for a moment as she reached through to retrieve the dishes. He only saw her right hand and part of her forearm, but it was enough. Beyond the layers of dirt and grime, he noticed the way her bones protruded through her fair skin and how painfully short her fingernails were, as if she had a habit of biting them. All at once he felt his heart shatter into pieces. How could he think she was an enemy agent while clearly being in such a poor state? The more he thought about what she must have been through to end up like that, the more his blood boiled and threatened to bubble over. If, no, when he got out of here, he would make these sorry wastes of space regret ever laying a hand on her.
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, he let his head fall back against the cinder blocks. "Thanks Vireo," he murmured.
"Nah, it's the least I can do."
He frowned to himself. "Why do you call yourself that?"
When the Canadian didn't answer immediately, Johnny began to wonder if he overstepped.
"I like birds," she finally said. "They're almost always around, even when you're out in the middle of nowhere. I used to bring binocs along on jobs and do some birdwatching when I was waiting for clients."
Something about her response seemed too innocuous. It almost sounded rehearsed, although he detected a tinge of sincerity as well. Evidently there was more to it, but she didn't want to elaborate further. He also got the sense that she didn't want him to keep pressing, so he elected to follow the conversation instead.
"That sounds peaceful," he hummed. "I like to do a bit o' that myself actually."
"Yeah?"
"Gotta pass the time somehow during stakeouts."
Vireo let out a huff that didn't quite sound like a laugh. "Have you ever seen a moose?"
Furrowing his brows, Johnny shook his head. "Cannae say I have, unless ye're counting pictures? Plenty o' smaller beasties though."
"I've spotted a couple during various jobs. They're surprisingly huge. Like, the semi-truck of animals huge." This time the Canadian chuckled to herself before continuing. "Trust me, you don't want to meet one in the middle of the woods at night."
"I'll take yer word fo' it, lassie."
· · ─────── · »—» ⟨ 🪶 ⟩ «—« · ─────── · ·
On the fourth day they brought Soap back much later than before. Vireo had been laying down for the night, barely asleep when the clatter of a cell door jerked her back from the precipice. The guards were never gentle in their treatment of her neighbour, but tonight their frustration was evident. The Scot's continued presence in this rotten place meant he had yet to crack under the torture, and while he was clearly brave, everyone had their limits. He would eventually break like she had.
Vireo waited until they were alone before creeping up to the bars. "Soap?" she called in as loud a whisper as she could muster.
He didn't respond for several long seconds. While she could hear him breathing, it sounded much more ragged than before, as if just inhaling oxygen had become agonizing. Could he have been knocked unconscious again?
"Soap!" she hissed. "Can you hear me?"
A low groan reached her ears, followed by the sound of shuffling as he dragged himself up to the bars to be closer.
"Don't… Don't try to push yourself." Vireo swallowed around the lump in her throat, feeling the familiar sensation of helplessness threatening to wash over her. "You don't have to talk either. I'm here…"
They both sat there for a few minutes, separated by crumbling bricks and rusted iron. If only she could comfort him, tend to his wounds, find the words to say... Staring at the bars that had been her cage for so long, she realized there was possibly one thing she could do. Shimmying onto her stomach, she stretched an arm through the bars, reaching as far as she could towards the Scot.
"Soap," she murmured, lightly slapping the concrete floor in an attempt to get his attention.
A slight rustling sound reached her ears before Vireo's breath caught in her throat as warmth graced her palm. Despite being the one to initiate the gesture, she felt her face flush with a different kind of heat and quickly curled her digits around Soap's hand in an attempt to distract herself.
The Scottish man's skin felt almost feverish in comparison to the concrete floor beneath her fragile form. Deep down she hoped he was just the type to run hot rather than this being a sign of infection. Other than the temperature difference, she was immediately struck by the size of his hand compared to her own. She wasn't a short woman, but she had lost much of her muscle mass over the last few years and now she couldn't help feeling rather small indeed.
Vireo wasn't sure what kind of soldier Soap was or if he had any hobbies he liked to do, but the callouses on his palm seemed to suggest he did a lot with his hands. Maybe he liked to keep busy - always fiddling with objects or taking things apart only to reassemble them again - or perhaps he did a lot of outdoor work and moving heavy objects around. Either way, it only endeared him to her more. Despite being guarded, he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, and it made bantering with him the best thing that had happened in a long time.
"I wish I could do more than this," Vireo whispered.
Soap gave her hand a weak squeeze. "Ye've already done so much. Just…knowing ye're here helps me keep going."
"I'm here. I'll be here as long as you need me to be."
For the next few minutes, Vireo just focused on holding his hand, mindlessly running her thumb over his knuckles. It felt nice, and made her wish they could have met under better circumstances. Maybe they would've shaken hands first, having met during a job, or maybe Soap might have offered to help her up if she had accidentally tripped when he was nearby. Or maybe he would have taken her hands in his to keep them warm on a chilly evening. As her thoughts began to stray towards the fantastical, Vireo quickly tried to push them away. There was no way he would've given her a second look if they had met on the outside. Why should he settle for her baggage when he was probably spoiled for choice in regards to good-looking women? No, it was best not to get her hopes up, especially since she couldn't do anything to improve her current state.
"Tell me about yerself, lassie. Something ye haven't yet," Soap mumbled, temporarily pulling the Canadian out of the storm in her head.
"Not sure there's much to tell…but I'll try." Vireo took a deep breath to give herself a moment to think. "I was raised in a small town in Northern Alberta but travelled around the Territories a lot. Um, I also started getting my pilot's license as soon as I could, studying for the exams when I was supposed to be writing school reports instead."
"You wanted to fly that much?"
"Yes, I loved flying, still do, but it was more because of my dad."
"Aye, then ye wanted to impress him?"
"Well yeah, but I admired him too. Some of my earliest memories are of the supply trips he would make every year to isolated communities in the province. He was very passionate about helping others, even before himself at times, and I suppose I wanted to follow in his footsteps."
"He sounds like a good man."
Vireo nodded out of habit. "Yeah… He's probably worried sick about me if I'm being honest." Blinking rapidly to banish the tears before they could form, she took a shaky breath. "But, you probably don't want to hear about my sob story. Have you ever been to Canada?"
"Maybe twice? No' for sightseeing though," Soap responded. As if sensing the Canadian woman's mood shift, his fingers brushed against her palm in an attempt to be comforting.
"Considering much of the country is undeveloped forests and plains, there's not a whole ton to see unless you focus on the southern parts." Vireo hummed thoughtfully before adding, "I always liked the forests much more than the cities, just the solitude and being alone with only the wildlife for company was comforting for me."
"You would probably like Scotland too. Used to spend hours exploring the countryside wi' my cousins as a wee lad."
Vireo made a sound of agreement. "If I ever get out of here, I'll make sure to book a flight."
"Well I'd be happy to show ye around sometime...if ye wanted me too."
For a moment Vireo couldn't be sure if Soap meant for her to hear with how softly he had spoken. She felt her face grow hot all over again at the thought of spending time together in his home country. While she couldn't imagine ever getting to that point, it caused her to smile the most genuine smile she had in years.
~~~
Hey! This is my first attempt at a CoD fic, so if you liked it, I would massively appreciate reblogs as it helps a lot. Your support means the world to me! Thanks for reading this far if you did.
Taglist: @kathrynwilmot @graythereaper0428 because you previously expressed interest in seeing more (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
Going on Tumblr today was a mistake because I just saw pics from the mw4 trailer. I mean, I'm sure Price vs Ghost will be cool, but I like these two a lot. I dunno Price definitely deserves this after killing Shepherd but I'm secretly hoping they'll just team up again. Please don't make Soap's death be for nothing Activision!
I don't want to keep the fic I've been working on to myself anymore. I'm scared that posting the chapters I've already written might be a bad idea, but I really really want to share the thing that has consumed me for the past six months.
So, yeah, if you've never seen me around before, hi! My name's Tumble and I'm working on a Call of Duty fic. The pairing is my OC Aderyn "Vireo" Cotes x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, and besides the romance, it's primarily a fix-it fic because the third game did not happen. (Fight me that ending was bogus.)
The plot touches on some darker themes that I haven't tackled before in my previous works, namely assault and various types of trauma, so if that doesn't sound like your cup of tea I totally get it. However, it is also a slow burn strangers to lovers with themes of healing and finding people to call your own. I plan to focus more on the emotional impacts of decisions rather than writing a power fantasy (although there will be action scenes as well). This is my first foray into CoD and also the first third person fic I've written in years, but I think it's turning out really good right now!
So, if you're interested, let me know. The chapters are between 4,000 - 5,000 words long on average and take a while to write as a result, so I don't have a posting schedule in mind yet.
My plan was to write a strangers to lovers slow burn...
I survived until chapter 14 before realizing I'm not strong enough. So now it's going to be strangers to friend to lovers slow burn forbidden romance...
One thing I like to do when writing any of the 141 guys is to add slang or specific speech patterns to their dialogue. Soap is my favourite to inflict with this, although I have since toned down his accent for readability since I started writing a few months ago. I admittedly don't do much for the British lads beyond a few specific words or mannerisms.
My OC, Vireo, is Canadian like myself. So I also enjoy trying to add little quirks to her dialogue where it makes sense. It's a tad tricky though because she's from an entirely different part of the country than me and I have like none of the Canadian slang that you see in media.
I dunno, I felt like yapping because language is fascinating to me.
Alright because @vittoriaxcx and @graythereaper0428 asked, I decided to post a little teaser from the OC x canon CoD fic I've been working on. This is a new scene I recently added to the first chapter while reworking it since I wanted to establish Soap's character better.
All Johnny could do was lean against the brick wall and focus on breathing. Today marked three days since he had been captured, which wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things, but the whole ordeal was already having adverse affects on him. He had gone through training for interrogation resistance, and this wasn't even the first time he'd been tortured, but no mock scenario could compare to the real thing. Still, no matter what they did, how much they threatened, he remained determined not to let anything slip about his team or their mission.
He hadn't meant to get captured in the first place. Thinking back to the disastrous events of the op, he knew he shouldn't have taken so many risks - should've listened when Price ordered everyone to retreat - but there were civilians in danger. If he had pushed harder, defused the bomb faster, been more aware of his surroundings, then he wouldn't be locked in this concrete box. It had been his fault and now he was paying for it.
The guilt and regret weighed heavily on his mind. He had never been one for religion, despite how much it broke his poor old Gran's heart, but now he was beginning to wonder if there had been a point to all those long-winded services after all. As it stood, he didn't think he would be getting out of here by his own strength. His body was only growing weaker by the day, and it felt like a permanent haze lingered in the forefront of his mind no matter how much he tried to rest. While he knew his team was most likely tearing the country apart in an effort to find him, a small voice in the back of his skull doubted they would make it in time, if they were even coming at all that is.
Would serve you right for being so thick in the head...
It had been the same song and dance ever since he joined up. Too impulsive. Too headstrong. Not enough sense. He had heard these things all his life, believed them at times too, but he never stopped trying to prove himself. For years, his commanding officers had written him off as just "the new guy" and underestimated his abilities. Price had seemed different, but Johnny knew he was responsible for keeping the older man up at night many times over with his antics. Perhaps his second chances had run out, and Command would decide a rescue wasn't worth it, forcing the team to move on without him.
A soft scrapping sound from the hallway jolted him back to the present.
"Soap." It was the woman on the other side of the wall. "Here..."
Johnny barely managed to drag himself to the rusty bars, but his heart sank when he peeked out. In the gap between his and the neighboring cell was a plastic tray with a little bowl of what looked to be more broth than soup and piece of stale bread.
"Lassie-"
"They haven't been feeding you," Vireo interrupted. "Take it; you need to keep your wits about you."
It was true. If not for being waterboarded, he hadn't so much as eaten or drank in days. While he had been able to ignore the hunger, dehydration would become a problem quickly, and he needed to maintain as much mental clarity as possible if he was to survive. Still, this could barely be considered a meal. If he accepted, then she would be going without, and he hated the thought of making her suffer.
"I cannae do that..."
The woman huffed and probably rolled her eyes at his continued attempts to protest. "Yes, you can. Clearly they don't expect you to last long and..." She fell quiet for a moment. "...and I don't want you to die," she finished in a soft whisper.
When he still hesitated to accept, she clicked her tongue. "Don't worry about me; I'll be fine. Just take it before one of the guards comes by and catches us."
Seeing as Vireo wasn't going to take no for an answer, Johnny gave in, even as a small part of him screamed that this might be a trick. The woman could easily have been planted next door in an effort to either manipulate or potentially drug him, but he tried to push the thought from his mind.
When he finished eating, Johnny slid the tray back towards Vireo's cell, although he lingered by the bars for a moment as she reached through to retrieve the dishes. He only saw her right hand and part of her forearm, but it was enough. Beyond the layers of dirt and grime, he noticed the way her bones protruded through her fair skin and how painfully short her fingernails were, as if she had a habit of biting them. All at once he felt his heart shatter into pieces. How could he think she was an enemy agent while clearly being in such a poor state? The more he thought about what she must have been through to end up like that, the more his blood boiled and threatened to bubble over. If, no, when he got out of here, he would make these sorry wastes of space regret ever laying a hand on her.
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, he let his head fall back against the cinder blocks. "Thanks Vireo," he murmured.
"Nah, it's the least I can do."
He frowned to himself. "Why do you call yourself that?"
When the Canadian didn't answer immediately, Johnny began to wonder if he overstepped.
"I like birds," she finally said. "They're almost always around, even when you're out in the middle of nowhere. I used to bring binocs along on jobs and do some birdwatching when I was waiting for clients."
Something about her response seemed too innocuous. It almost sounded rehearsed, although he detected a tinge of sincerity as well. Evidently there was more to it, but she didn't want to elaborate further. He also got the sense that she didn't want him to keep pressing, so he elected to follow the conversation instead.
"That sounds peaceful," he hummed. "I like to do a bit o' that myself actually."
"Yeah?"
"Gotta pass the time somehow during stakeouts."
Vireo let out a huff that didn't quite sound like a laugh. "Have you ever seen a moose?"
Furrowing his brows, Johnny shook his head. "Cannae say I have, unless ye're counting pictures? Plenty o' smaller beasties though."
"I've spotted a couple during various jobs. They're surprisingly huge. Like, the semi-truck of animals huge." This time the Canadian chuckled to herself before continuing. "Trust me, you don't want to meet one in the middle of the woods at night."
Ugh, I want to post something related to CoD, but I don't feel like spontaneously creating something right now. I could post some more teasers from the fic I'm writing? I dunno, that feels a little cruel since I don't know when I'll be comfortable posting it for real.
I want to get more comfortable with discussing my OC's so here's some fun facts about my latest character, Aderyn Cotes. (I drew her btw if you're interested.)
Avian Coded. Not only does her first name literally mean bird, but she was a helicopter pilot before the events of the story. Her last name means (unintentionally, I promise) a shelter for birds and she picked the name of a small songbird (Vireo, a Red-eyed Vireo specifically) for her call sign. She also has a feather tattoo that she got after being released from the Canadian Airforce.
Canadian Citizen. She grew up in a small town in Alberta with her dad and generally feels more at home in cooler climates. I wanted to try my hand at writing a character more like myself, although her citizenship is mostly where the similarities end since I might have given her a lot of trauma...
Punk Interest. She loved punk rock growing up, still does, and if she didn't join the army she probably would have pursued this interest. She used to collect band shirts and memorabilia but hasn't been able to add to her collection in a long time. While she's not a fan of being around crowds of strangers, she would go to a concert with a friend if they expressed interest.
Cynical Outlook. She tends to believe that people are only interested in themselves and that she can't rely on them for help. Combined with her stubborn nature, she will force herself to power through problems and refuse assistance if offered. It also doesn't help that apathy has become her outlook when it comes to most situations. She's not quite a nihilist but can appear that way to outside observers.
Cruel Awakening. She fell for military propaganda while in high school and joined as soon as she graduated because she believed she would be helping people. Reality kicked her in the head almost immediately, but she continued putting in a hundred percent effort in hopes that it would pay off. While she excelled in basic training, her peers never accepted her, and she ended up in an abusive situation with her commanding officer, which culminated in her being released (discharged) from the military when she reported him.
Forced Distractions. She has to keep busy or have a goal to work towards at all times. She feels that if she allows herself a moment to think, to remember, she'll lose herself for good. Questions from her peers are sidestepped until she runs out of space and has to come clean. Physical or emotional pain tends to be hidden behind a laugh or self-depreciation. She would sooner work herself into an early grave than confront her past failures and mistakes.
Closed Off. She's competent when it comes to social interactions until they drift too far below the surface. She enjoys bantering and joking around but often feels drained at the end of the day. Truthfully, she wants to have someone she can bare her heart to without judgement, but the moment they get close her first instinct is to push them away. She's trying to be better, although it's hard to unlearn habits formed in an effort to protect herself.
Typing this out genuinely made me happy so I'd appreciate hearing if it was at all interesting.
I was bored at work over the weekend and decided to write up some headcanons for Taskforce 141. I'm still new at writing for these characters, but I tried to think of ideas that aren't super common while still being present in the fic I'm working on.
Johnny "Soap" Mactavish
His Scottish accent naturally gets thicker when he's riled up - angry, excited, etc - but he's learned how to relax it as well. This is mostly useful for when he's undercover, although in serious situations the accent can disappear too. I.E: He has to calm down someone he cares about if they're having a crisis.
He has younger sisters, as in there's at least a six year age gap between him and them. Growing up, he very much enjoyed being the annoying elder brother and would drive his sisters crazy whenever he could. Despite this, he's fiercely protective of them, even if the relationship becomes strained when he joins the military, and this would extend to any woman he's close with in other parts of his life as well.
He's the type to hide his pain behind a smile. He has a big heart and cares deeply for the people in his life, so it bothers him when they're hurting. Even with strangers, he can't help but feel compassion and empathy for them, especially if they could be considered innocent or vulnerable.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
His personality is like two sides of the same coin. The first is serious, duty-bound, and having a strong sense of justice, while the second is more carefree, sweet, and thoughtful. Unfortunately, these aspects of himself tend to clash when it comes to the decisions he has to make, and he definitely carries a lot of guilt over the things he's done.
He's an only child but always wanted to have younger siblings. As a result, he tends to become an unofficial older brother to his friends, but in the sense that he'll playfully tease them or go out of his way to help with various things. He's very supportive of their endeavors as well and will act as the voice of reason when it comes to conflict resolution.
He likes coming up with nicknames for people, mostly for those he's close to. Usually they're pretty innocuous, like "mate" or "love" - terms that could be excused as part of his British mannerisms - but occasionally he'll pick one that's more specific. If he doesn't use any terms of endearment for someone, especially after multiple interactions, there's a good chance he thinks very little of them.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
He doesn't see a difference between men and women in the sense that he won't go easier on a recruit because of their gender. He has been accused of being cruel for this, but at this point in his career he's a pretty good judge of a person's ability and he won't back down unless it really is too much for them to handle. Safe to say that he dislikes misogynistic or sexist people in general, and he's not afraid to call out this behavior when he notices it.
He's very particular about tea to the extent that he will refuse if anyone offers to make him any. He doesn't care if this plays into British stereotypes, and he will bluntly tell people off when they don't do it properly. This isn't to say he's opposed to coffee, but he rarely adds more than a teaspoon of sugar to it.
He is surprisingly good with kids. Granted, most are scared of him, especially if he's wearing the mask and full tactical gear, but children don't tend to judge him for his appearance like adults do. It helps that he doesn't talk down to them and listens as they chatter away about whatever they're interested in, occasionally asking questions to show that he's paying attention.
John Price
He pays attention to the soldiers under his command and regularly checks in if something is wrong. While it's mostly because he can't have liabilities in the field, he does care about their well-being, especially if they've been working together for a while. He's lost a lot of good soldiers over the years and refuses to forget even one of their sacrifices.
He's known to be hard on recruits and expecting 110% effort from his soldiers. Usually he's well-intentioned since he wants to see them succeed, but he has gone too far a number of times. He doesn't always apologize when this happens, unless it's obvious he was in the wrong.
He keeps track of the people who have wronged him and will always find a way to even the score. This also extends to when people go out of their way to help him. He's both a petty and spiteful man, but also an honourable and generous one to those who deserve it.
