“Creo que he salido con los suficientes chicos para darme cuenta de quién es mi alma gemela, mi mundo, mi vida. Desde que te vi, pude notarlo, pude notar todo de ti, que cosa te gustaba, cual no, y cualquier detalle que describiera tu persona. Te amo, quizás demasiado y más que a mi vida…” ella hizo una pequeña pausa, sonriendo y observando aquellos ojos azules brillosos ajenos. “Comprendí, aprendí y seguiré aprendiendo sobre nosotros, porque eso quiero, seguir a tu lado, ser tu compañera, tu cómplice y confidente. Te amo John MacTavish y estoy tan agradecida por todo, por cada cosa que sucede y nos une más. Gracias…por todo. Y ante todos los presentes y Dios como nuestros testigos, acepto ser tu esposa.”
Podía notar como él contenía el sollozo y con aquellas mejillas enrojecidas por las palabras de su futura mujer, lo cual en el fondo le hacía llorar y ella le dio un pequeño apretón a las manos impropias. Johnny aclaró sutilmente su garganta para disponerse a hablar.
“Creo que es obvio decir que estoy completamente rendido ante ti. Tengo mucho que mencionar y se me hace imposible hacer un resumen de lo mucho que había ansiado este día, aunque…en el fondo lo sabía, sabía que encontré a mi alma gemela, a mi compañera, a mi confidente. A mi mundo y todo. Rosaline, no sabes lo feliz que me haces, incluso en lo bajo jamás me he arrepentido de esto, somos un equipo, y siempre estaré a tu lado, no importa que…” Johnny hizo una breve pausa para respirar e intentar controlar el temblor de sus manos. “Eres esplendida, maravillosa…y ante toda esta gente y ante Dios como nuestros testigos, acepto ser tu esposo. Pase lo que pase.”
Hubo un breve momento en que se miraron silenciosos, con ese amor que solo con mirarse se transmitían.
“Te amo.”
“Y yo te amo a ti.” Palabras susurradas confirmaron aquel amor. Aquel sacerdote los miró con una sonrisa de oreja a oreja.
“Entonces ante Dios y los presentes, los declaro marido y mujer. Lo que ha unido Dios, no lo separe el hombre. Puedes besar a la novia.”
Y ante los vítores, sellaron aquel amor profesado en un pasional y largo beso.
Había quedado fascinada al entrar en aquella catedral, más emocionada por aquel inminente día y por la fascinante historia que tenía la catedral.
Fue difícil pero habían conseguido aquel día debido al favor de un amigo cercano de la familia MacTavish.
Nerviosa la yema de su meñique retocó su lápiz labial rosa pastel en sus labios bajo aquel velo de tul blanco. Tragó en seco deteniéndose frente a las grandes puertas de aquel lugar.
Miró a sus sobrinos, quienes la miraron con una mirada confusa pero Rosaline asintió y aquellos hombres que eran amigos de Johnny (provenientes de su equipo) sonrientes abrieron de par en par ambas puertas de color cobre, revelando así a la gente que se colocaba de pie al notar su presencia.
Se sentía como una princesa, era algo gracioso que su figura como princesa fuese Lady Diana Spencer Princesa de Gales, pero no podía ocultar su pequeño fanatismo por ella, su vestido no era pomposo y esplendoroso como el de la mismísima Princesa.
Era un pequeño homenaje pero con su propio estilo.
Era una lástima que su propio padre no estuviera presente en aquel día.
Con firmeza su diestra volvió a su ramo de flores, aquel ramo de tulipanes de color rosa.
A paso firme y sola ante la mirada de amigos, familiares, colegas y jefes cercanos avanzó por el pasillo al ritmo de la marcha nupcial.
Realmente no es que fuese un lugar que no quisiera, le encantaba todo con historia; pero si hubiese escogido una pequeña Iglesia hubiese estado igual de encantada.
Aunque todo se quedó atrás cuando finalmente estuvo frente a él. Ella pudo notar que él estaba casi al borde de las lágrimas.
Rosaline que estaba intentando aguantar las lágrimas fue en vano un par habían empezado a resbalar por sus mejillas.
Johnny se apresuró y con sumo cuidado con su pulgar limpió aquellas suaves mejillas al levantar aquel velo.
“No sabes, mi niña…como he ansiado todo esto.” Ella asintió, la voz no podía salir de su garganta. “Estás más que hermosa, la palabra preciosa se queda corta…” John tomó la diestra ajena entre las suyas, dejando un suave beso en su palma.
E incluso para ella no pasó desapercibida.
“Te ves…esplendido. Hermoso…y cualquier adjetivo descriptivo hacía tu persona también se queda corto.” Comentario que provocó una carcajada en Soap. “No puedo describir lo emocionada que me siento al tenerte frente a frente…y que pronto…”
“Y que pronto serás la señora MacTavish. Aunque eso ya lo eres desde hace dos años.” Rosie abrió con sorpresa los ojos, ante aquel comentario. “Sí, lo decidí desde nuestro segundo aniversario de novios.”
“Siempre me sorprendes.”
“Solo a ti. Me gusta darte sorpresas.”
Ambos soltaron unas risitas por lo bajo mientras se miraban, y tras una última sonrisa ambos dieron media vuelta para mirar al sacerdote.
“¡Johnny! No te vayas tan lejos, quédate junto a tu hermana Rose.”
Llamó Rosaline mientras se colocaba de pie. El niño de siete años asintió con aquella energía que de costumbre tenía, Rosie le sonrió a ambos, mirando como su pequeña chillaba de la emoción.
Simon había llegado luego de haber estacionado aquella camioneta, era uno de esos viajes a Escocia, y como no, al lugar favorito de aquella persona especial para ellos dos.
“Con cuidado, que vuestro padre os regaña.”
“Es cierto, y mastiquen bien.”
Ambos escucharon unas risillas de parte de aquellos dos niños, Rosaline y Simon se miraron con una sonrisa para luego después empezar a comer.
Ambos, Rosaline y Ghost estaban sentados sobre aquella manta azulada con rayas blancas, eran inicios de otoño, una ocasión perfecta para visitar aquellos montes, los niños yacían ahí bien abrigados y acurrucados junto a ellos.
Ninguno decía alguna palabra, solo miraban el atardecer hacerse presente.
“A veces cuando miro a nuestro Johnny, recuerdo a…”
“A nuestro otro Johnny…yo también.”
Se hizo otro silencio, que ella decidió romper.
“Debes entender que te amo tanto como mi corazón lo permite, Simon…”
“Y estoy en paz con eso, porque lo sé.” Él con su brazo izquierdo rodeó la cintura ajena en un pequeño abrazo.
“Pero no puedo evitar pensar como habría sido mi vida junto a John, como sería todo si él hubiese vivido.” En el fondo, ella se sentía culpable por tener aquel sentimiento.
“Siento que también robé su vida, su destino. No me malinterpretes, amo a los niños pero…ésta siempre fue su vida. Él habría sido un mejor padre.” Confesó, todo aun parecía fresco en su memoria.
“Sí…pero también eres un buen padre…” murmura, acomodando un mechón de cabello de la pequeña niña de dos años. “Lo siento.” Añade finalmente al notar la expresión del mayor.
“Lo sé…no es tu culpa, me siento así también…lo importante es no olvidarlo.” Ghost añadió inclinándose un poco para dejar un besito en la coronilla de Rosie. “Yo también creo que nuestro pequeño es igual a él.”
Era increíble que ella y Johnny casi nunca se cruzaran en Glasgow, y eso que ambos habían crecido ahí…casi juntos.
La noche iluminada por los incontables faroles en Manchester se hizo presente, y con ello dos jóvenes adolescentes esperaban aquel autobús que los llevaría a sus destinos, pero éste tenía algo preparado.
Ambos silenciosos entraron al vehículo, por supuesto Johnny educado por tres mujeres mayores, las cuales eran sus hermanas, comprendió en cederle el asiento a aquella jovencita rubia, que con un pequeño rubor en sus mejillas por lo apenada, asintió aceptando el asiento.
A mitad del trayecto, ambos se daban miradas de reojo. Él no pudo evitar sonreír cada vez que hacía contacto visual.
Aunque avergonzada ella desviaba su mirada luego de unos segundos de contacto visual.
Pero finalmente fue Johnny quien rompió el silencio.
“¿Te conozco de algún lado? Te me haces muy familiar…”
“Vivo aquí desde hace varios años. ¿Y tú?”
“También… ¿Cuál es tu apellido?”
“Knox…Rosaline Knox. ¿Y tú? “
“John MacTavish pero puedes decirme Johnny.”
“¿Tienes abuelos escoceses también?” ambos se habían sonreído. Y el resto del camino la había pasado charlando.
Aunque su expresión decayó un poco al notar que se aproximaba a su destino.
“Estoy por llegar… ¿quieres que te deje mi número?” preguntó ella mientras posaba su mirada en él.
Él lo dudó un poco pero aceptó, y con aquella rapidez intercambiaron de número.
Un pequeño beso en la mejilla ajena a modo de despedida y ella se colocó de pie para tocar el timbre para indicar su parada.
Las vacaciones parecían haberse puesto más divertidas.
“¿Quieres salir en éstas vacaciones?” Ese fue el mensaje que había recibido tras haber bajado del autobús. Ella se apresuró a responder.
“¡Sí! Por supuesto.” Y tras haber enviado aquel mensaje, Rosaline nuevamente fue hacía la puerta de su casa.
Al parecer el destino los había vuelto a juntar y esta vez desde mucho antes.
Pero finalmente Ghost la detuvo con su zurda, sus ojos por fin la miraron, notando el sollozo y las lágrimas que bajan sin pudor las mejillas sonrosadas de la joven.
Rosie miro hacía el ataúd, intentando normalizar su respiración.
“Me prometiste una boda cuando regresaras, Johnny…me prometiste…me prometiste muchas cosas…y regresas de ésta forma…” Ghost no se atrevía a soltarla, sentía que si lo hacía ella caería al suelo, podía notar el temblor en su cuerpo. “Johnny…por favor, deja las bromas, te lo pido…por una vez.” El ruego y dolor frente aquellos solo añadía más sal a la herida.
Si algo que les dolía a todos, era ver al ser amado de su compañero y hermano desmoronarse frente al ataúd.
“Te lo ruego…por favor.” Sí, ella esperaba que fuese una broma, que él se levantase y dijera: ‘estoy vivo, fue una broma.’ Estaba desesperada. Las lágrimas no cesaban.
“Se ha ido.” La voz ronca y fría de Ghost hizo que Rosaline por fin lo mirara. Ella parpadeó como si no comprendiera pero comprendía tan bien que le dolía tanto como le era posible.
Su interior quemaba, le ardía.
Su alma estaba rota.
Su corazón hecho trizas.
“Y tu prometiste cuidarlo. Sois unos mentirosos, todos ustedes.” Esa dura faceta que había sido creada por los años de experiencia que Ghost tuvo, se rompió cuando aquellos ojos brillosos lo miraban con dolor.
“Lo siento…de verdad, lo siento.” Musita el mayor, el labio inferior de Rosie ligeramente tembló mientras se quitaba de aquel agarre ajeno.
Ella solo guardó silencio, resignada.
El día siguiente se celebró una ceremonia de conmemoración por los caídos.
La familia MacTavish estaba ahí por supuesto.
Johnny tuvo su funeral en aquella tarde, todos habían quedado de acuerdo a que cremarían el cuerpo.
Rosaline, Ghost, Price y Gaz junto con los MacTavish estaban ahí reunidos en una habitación aparte.
“Entonces… ¿han decidido?” la voz de Gaz hizo eco en el lugar, mientras miraba a los presentes.
“Johnny siempre quiso que sus restos volvieran a su amada Escocia, y ser esparcido por los montes.”
Fue la hermana mayor quien terminó por hablar, la madre de él estaba inconsolable.
Rosaline estaba silenciosa mirando un punto fijo en la pared.
Todos posaron sus ojos en la más joven, esperando un ‘pero.’
“Mientras sea en épocas de nieve… a él le gustaba mucho la nieve…odia las playas, recuerdo que le rogué para ir a una, pero finalmente en el día me dijo que ahora tuvo un mejor recuerdo de ellas…me prometió que en la primera nevada iríamos a Escocia de vuelta…su tiempo podría coincidir, eso dijo él.”
Murmuró ella mientras una pequeña lágrima bajaba por su mejilla izquierda. El llanto de la madre de Johnny se escuchó más fuerte.
“Sí…él también siempre quiso que sus cenizas fueran esparcidas…”
“También le harán un espacio en el cementerio de la armada…” Añadió Price. “Podrás verlo ahí.”
“No sé si quiera verlo…porque tengo todo lo que es de él en mi departamento.” Musita irguiéndose y colocándose de pie segundos después. “Puedo darles…algunas cosas a todos para que lo tengan presente…lo siento por todo, es vuestro dolor y solo vuestro.”
“Y tuyo…sabíamos y podemos notar cuanto esto te está costando.” Y aunque había llorado a solas, aquello no hizo más que romperla.
No era posible evitarlo, el llanto otra vez era totalmente audible, desgarrador y parecía no tener fin.
Se sentía insegura, desprotegida, con dolor en el corazón inexplicable.
En aquel viaje solo miro desde atrás como aquel resto de los integrantes del equipo de Johnny esparcían aquellas cenizas por los montes.
“Espero que en otra vida coincidamos, Johnny. Te amaré siempre.” Fue así con aquello último, había dejado que aquellos hombres tuvieran su despedida, a su modo.
El primer año fue difícil, las fiestas, las salidas, todo era cancelado o solo la arrastraban.
Las noches siempre eran lo peor, casi nunca llegaba a dormir. Después de todo fue Johnny quien espantaba sus miedos y sus peores pesadillas, y ahora la muerte de aquel sargento se sumaba a su lista.
Y con el paso del tiempo se vio sumida en la rutina, poco a poco viendo como también Simon Riley se disponía a hablar con ella.
Sobre todo porque su tema en común era aquella persona que ambos habían querido con mucho cariño. Aquella persona que no podrían olvidar con el paso de los años.
Fueron nueve años los que habían pasado. El dolor se había calmado, pero aún seguía ahí.
El día típico a la mañana, el lío común de ir de un lado a otro en la oficina de la base bajo el mando de Kate Laswell.
Rosaline ahí se encontraba con su pulcro traje de oficina, aquella falda azul que llegaba por arriba de las rodillas, zapatos de tacón negros, camisa blanca y aquella identificación colgando de su cuello.
Sosteniendo aquella carpeta amarilla con aquel apuro para ir a entregarla, fue interceptada por uno de sus compañeros, el cual vestía su uniforme militar. Sintió aquel agarre suave en su brazo que provocó que se girara para mirarlo, confundida.
Pudo notar lo nervioso que estaba, incluso tragó en seco.
“Rosie, ve a la oficina de Kate Laswell.” Hizo una breve pausa, relamiendo con sutilidad sus labios resecos. Aun incluso la noticia llegando a sus oídos era difícil, pero no estaba en posición de decirla.
“Es…urgente.” Añade, soltando cuidadosamente el brazo de la joven.
Ella asintió, silenciosa, aun aferrada a esas carpetas volvió sobre su camino, con destino al 3er piso, donde la oficina de Laswell se encontraba.
Dos veces suavemente tocó la puerta con sus nudillos, y cuando escuchó aquella voz familiar, tomó el picaporte y abrió aquella puerta.
Laswell se encontraba seria, y con ese rastro de tristeza en su rostro, como si tuviera que dar una mala noticia.
Rosaline sin emitir alguna palabra cerró la puerta detrás de sí, quedándose al lado de la silla de tapizado beige que yacía frente al escritorio.
Kate dejó salir un profundo suspiro, entrelazando sus dedos, y mirando a Rosaline.
“Siéntate, esto será…fuerte.” Rosaline hizo caso, dejando aquellas carpetas en un lugar aparte, posando su pierna derecha sobre la izquierda.
Su corazón latiendo rápido, sus manos no podía evitar sudar de los nervios.
Incluso mordía el interior de sus mejillas.
“Lo siento, lo siento tanto. El sargento MacTavish…ha muerto en acción.”
Rosaline miro a ambos lados, como si aún no creyera lo que le estaban diciendo.
“¿Disculpe?”
A Kate no le parecía sorprender la reacción, era la primera que siempre había visto. Por lo que no titubeó al repetirlo.
“El sargento MacTavish, ha muerto en combate.”
Rosaline tomó una gran y profunda respiración, parpadeando un par de veces mientras su mirada estaba fija en su superior.
“Oh…” musitó ahora desviando sus orbes hacía sus documentos, tragó en seco mientras se colocaba de pie. Su corazón no se calmaba, y aun no lograba entender lo que estaba sucediendo.
“Su familia está de camino…”
“¿O sea que soy la última en enterarme?” no podía creer eso, después de todo era sabido en el lugar que clase de vinculo tenían ambos.
“Fueron muchas cosas y…”
“Fui su novia, su…su pareja…su amante. Yo…”
Kate inmediatamente cortó lo que Rosie iba a decir, ya incluso ella se sentía mal por toda la situación.
“Johnny lo ha querido así. Él sabía lo destrozada que estarías ahora que te enteras.”
La de cabellos rubios ahora solo le estaba dando la espalda, conteniendo la respiración, el llanto mientras las lágrimas se peleaban por salir.
“¿Están por llegar?” le había costado preguntar eso, pues contenía tanto su dolor como para no hacerlo. “Tengo que hablar con el teniente.”
“Están…aterrizando justo ahora…” Murmura su respuesta Kate, mirando hacía la ventana.
“Si me permite. Los documentos pueden esperar.”
Ninguna otra palabra salió de ambas, no quería. No quería escuchar otra disculpa, ahora podía entender aquella mirada que le había dado su compañero.
A paso rápido se apresuró al aeroparque de la base, donde pudo ver desde su lugar como bajaban… con aquel ataúd.
El teniente no llevaba su máscara y estaba aquella expresión de amargura con dolor, los ojos rojos como señal de que había llorado, silencioso.
Cada uno sosteniendo un lado del ataúd.
Rosaline se había detenido frente a ellos, todos en silencio, aquellos se detuvieron frente ella. Price quitándose aquel sombrero suyo, ni siquiera pudo mantenerle la mirada a la joven.
Ella no volvió a mirar al capitán, ahora solo miraba al teniente.
Nuevamente tragó en seco, diestra alzó y con la mano formada un puño golpeó el pecho del hombre que medía 1,90.
La acción se repitió por unos minutos, no eran golpes fuertes, eran suaves, Simon podía aguantarlos.
Los ojos marrones de Simon solo la miraban, frustrado y triste. Podía entender el dolor también había sido su mejor amigo, su hermano…su hermano pequeño y había fallado.
Warning: swearing, mentioning of bullets, fighting, drunk/tipsy (y/n), suggestive?, bad writing (in my opinion ;-; ), f!reader
A/N: I realized I dragged this on a lot longer but tbh I am happy with it.
When he comes to his own thoughts he can't help but keep still.
Little by little he starts to feel sensations flowing through his body.
Soap's hearing comes first. He hears the birds just outside, probably in the tree that you loved when he first showed you how they built your house from the ground up.
He was very adamant that he did not want his mates/family to touch that tree. He wanted it right at your window so you could see the leaves change with the weather.
Then Soap's sense of touch is registering in his mind. He takes in a quick breath as his fingers brush against a cool fabric, a soft hum coming from his side.
There is a heavy weight on his left ring finger. But it doesn't feel as though it's digging into his skin like when he was falling apart after the mentions of divorce.
The feeling of a soft hand on his chest brings him to open his eyes, and they immediately land on the figure at his side.
You.
Curled into his side with his arm tucking your upper half to his chest, like he's protecting you. Soap blinks a few times, eyes adjusting to the light bleeding in through the blinds. His lips part, his other hand reaching over to pull you closer to him.
"Bonnie..." He whispers. His breathing escalates, now seeing that you are in fact real. Soap can feel you, he can touch you. Hell, he hears you.
"Bonnie-(Y/n)!" He cries out, as gently as he can. "(Y/n) wake up!"
With a small moan and pout of your lips, you open your eyes, pushing yourself up to face your husband.
"Whaaaat?" You whine. Your tiredness seems to dissipate immediately as you make eye contact with Soap. The panic in his eyes unsettles you. "Johnny? What's wrong?"
You begin to look around, thinking something he saw was what was causing his distress. Your search is cut short however as soon as your husband's thick arms envelop you in a hug. You squeak as you feel his weight completely rest on you.
"J-Johnny!" Giggles echo through the room. "What's gotten into you this-?!"
You feel his calloused hand cup your cheek to turn you to face him. Soap presses his lips upon yours, and it grows with passion every second that passes until you eventually force yourself back to breathe.
"Woah there, cowboy- slow-slow down!"
Your words are drowned out by your own giggles as Soap continuously presses kisses to your face, trailing down your neck, and back up to your lips.
"Okay-! Okay!! I love you- good morning!! I surrender!"
John feels tears brink in his eyes, as he lets the empty gasps and sobs escape him. Your smile drops and your arms are immediately wrapping around his neck.
"Shhh. It's okay...I'm here, my love... I'm here." You brush his tuffs of hair down, smoothing out his mohawk and slightly grown-out sides as he sobs into your neck.
"I'm sorry, lass. I'm so fucking sorry. I'll not take you for granted- never-"
"Johnny-" You try to sweet talk him but he is just inconsolable. You don't even want to continue with your words, just so afraid of sending him down a spiral...at least more than he is now.
"What happened? What happened, Johnny?"
Soap shakes his head, refusing to answer, afraid to even think about the events.
The divorce, the bomb, Makarov...the Captain.
He almost doesn't want to believe it. But there is that nagging voice that is driving him to dwell in it. To find out.
But he ignores that. He just wants you in his arms. Against his lips.
"I just..." He breathes out. "Just a bad dream. That's all...I'm sorry."
Your brows furrow, hands sliding to cup his face. His blue eyes stare into your own, visibly softening, pupils growing the longer you seem to hypnotize him.
"Don't apologize. I'm here for you. I knew what I was getting into when I married you." You explain. "For better or for worse. Right?"
Soap swallows before nodding his head. "Right..."
...
It isn't until your both out of bed that the feeling of forgetfulness in hitting him. Given the circumstances it's not a very welcomed feeling, so he's racking out his brain for an answer.
When he finally just opens his phone, there are a few things that send his heart sinking.
One, it's the 17th of September. Your anniversary. That's why the setting and your sing-song, the carefree attitude has him remembering this specific anniversary date.
He forgot it. It was your first real disappointment when you found out he had been out with family all day and missed you're planned surprise at home. Gosh, he spent a whole week making up for that.
Granted one would think 'Well that's one missed date out of the marriage right?'
No. This was important. Because this was the first of many. This would be your fourth anniversary, but the first one he missed nonetheless.
Which leads to point two.
The year on his phone home screen read '2019'.
He's gone back four years.
Johnny feels his heart in his throat, choking him until he's forced to swallow that anxiety down. Your voice brings him back to his senses.
"Johnny?"
He looks up, seeing your worried face. "Oh this one got you bad, didn't it?" You lower the heat to the stove, making him pancakes before you head off to work. Soap feels your hands on his face and melts there in his chair, sighing in contentment.
"I'm sorry, bonnie. My head's not-"
You smile at him as he speaks, cutting him off with a gentle kiss. God, he hadn't felt this in a while. A long while.
The love you had for him was practically gone before he died. He really needed to fix this.
"Don't worry about it, Johnny. You're home, with me, and you're going to come back home where I-" He can't help but match your grin. "Have a very special surprise for you later."
"Oh?" He muses, brows raised up. "Care to... share a bit of the details before yer off?"
You hum, finger-tapping your chin in exaggerated thought. "Mmmm. No~"
Soap's smile falls into a deadpan expression, sending you into a fit of giggles. "Be patient!"
"Patient like those pancakes, waiting to be turned?"
With a gasp to spin around, hurrying to the stove to flip the pancake, revealing a blackened side. Pouting, you look up at Soap who's covering his mouth, actively trying not to laugh right in your face.
"Oh shut up!"
"I've not said anything!"
Soap honestly finds it refreshing to see how easy it is you make you laugh, to smile, to show your caring nature. It's easy...
God, it was so easy...how did he fuck it up so horribly?
The night had came a lot sooner than he thought it would. It scared him how fast time had came and went.
His cousin, Clyde, had left him with others, chatting up a blonde gal at the bar, seemingly hoping to get lucky. He thinks at least. Does not look like he's doing a grand job there.
It didn't help that he was growing bored, he thought he would have a lot more fun being out with is old town mates, a few family members, but it just wasn't what he wanted anymore.
He misses you. His phone had died as well, blasted thing. He stopped by his mother's house for a small gathering, handing his phone to one of the little ones just to leave them be for a while. Johnny didn't think they would drain the battery so quick.
Soap remebers you tellin him he had a surprise for him back home. He was very much ready to head back, but his brother-in-law bought him another pint, who was he to say no?
His mind came back after his cousin returned, the woman from earlier long gone, and a kicked-pup look on the man's face.
"Suppose she didn't like yer top-ten football banter eh?" Johnny can't help but snark.
"Oh shut it, Johnny."
The rest of the table snickers, some plant their head on the table.
Clyde huffs, sliding into the booth as he smooths out his hair. "Be happy, alright. Ye've got a beautiful woman under your arm. Speaking of which-"
His brother-in-law, Jason, lets out a high hum. As if remembering something- "Yeah, speaking of (Y/n) how is she? She had work today, did you send her anything?"
Soap frowns, head tilting. "Well...I don't do it at random. Has to be a special occasion."
The table grows uncomfortably silent with that sentence.
"Johnny." His sister sighs. "You...Do you not know what day it is?"
He groans, instinctively pulling out his phone, but tossing his hands up when he forgets it's not going to turn on.
"I don't know, Olive, what fuckin day is it?"
His older sister sheepishly looks up at her husband as their cousin is sat with his shoulders shaking. He's chuckling, which turns into laughter, which turns into wheezing.
"Is anyone going to tell me what the fuck I'm missing here?"
"John." Olive sighs. "It's the 17th."
"Yer fucking anniversary, you daft bastard."
Everything stops in that second, panic settling in his skin.
"Fucking-" he reaches over, snatching his sisters phone from in front of her. A small 'hey!' is heard as he taps on the touch screen, confirming what his family members are trashing him for.
September 17, 2019
Shit.
Soap plants the phone back onto the table, reaching for his wallet and tossing money at the center of it.
"Move." He growls out as he shoves Clyde out of the booth.
Clyde is muttering swears as Johnny slides out of the seat, pecking his sister on the side of the head and waving off Jason as he rushes out of the bar.
He hops into the truck, making turns here and there to find some kind of store that's still open. Johnny roars a swear seeing that it's midnight, and he knows that there would be nothing anywhere.
John had plugged his phone into a charger in his truck so when he heard his phone pinging with messages, with every notification he missed, he pulled over just to check.
There are about ten total from you. Some are spaced out by ten minutes, some by thirty. But the one that had the sergeant's heart sink was the last one.
'Happy Anniversary then, John.'
You never call him John. Hell, you never call him, Johnathan. He'll be sleeping on the couch for the remainder of the month, hell that's if you haven't changed the locks already.
He knows that his time is up and that he'll have to face you.
So he sighs, his nerves still up, and his head still swimming in ideas of how he's going to apologize to you.
Johnny parks the truck in his long driveway, rubbing his face before scavaging for any mints or gum to get rid of the smell of alcohol in the back of his throat. He might throw up honestly.
The sergeant walks up to the door, twisting his key into the lock and opening it to a somber sight.
There are candles on the table, no longer lit but short enough to tell they were on for some time now.
Rose petals scatter the floor, leading him to his chair, where there's an empty wine glass waiting for him. You know he's not a fan of wine, but the sight makes his heart clench because the opened and nearly empty bottle that's on the table is the same one you used for your wedding.
The only one he stated he'd ever love only because it reminded him of that special day.
The petals look like they keep going so he follows them the the living room, seeing his favorite snacks and drinks on the coffee table. Then he notices that the petals continue down the hallway. All the way to the room.
Soap sighs in defeat, cleaning up what's left over as quickly and quietly as possible. Unfortunately with his luck, the door to your shared room creaked open. He stills, waiting for your footsteps to announce you incoming.
It's apparent that you're barefoot, he can only tell that you've made yourself tipsy enough to have your feet slide against the wooden floor.
"Johnny?"
Soap lets out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding before he sets down the bowl of chips on the coffee table.
"Lass, I'm so sorry-"
"Johnny your *hic* hooome~!"
Your husband's face morphs from apologetic to shock. "(Y/n)?"
Giggling, you stumble your way over to him, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and planting kisses on his lips. Pulling away, he decides to cup your face in his hands, to get a better look at you.
It seems that you did your makeup, only your cheeks were stained with tear lines. Your pretty colored eyeshadow slightly smudged and lipstick practically pressed off with how much you drank from your glass.
You wore a silk set, which to Soap's fortunate yet unfortunate (because he knows he'll have to hold back, knowing if you were sober you'd be furious with him for missing such a special event and still pursuing you) luck, showed off your body in all of the naughtiest of ways.
"Fuck, (y/n)...I've really fucked up this time haven't I?"
Soap's missed birthdays for others, maybe some last minute plans that he bailed on for you, and hell even shown late to other family gatherings because of you. Never. And Soap means never, has he missed something as important as your anniversary.
"You came hoome~!" You repeated. "I thought you weren't coming at all tonight! *hic*!"
Soap presses a kiss to your forehead, picking you up and carrying your back to your room. The rest of the cleanup can wait for the morning.
He sits you down, looking around for makeup wipes he knows you have somewhere around specifically when you were too drunk or tired to get ready for bed.
As Soap helps you remove your makeup, he can't stop the way his heart aches as he realizes more tears begin to fall from your eyes.
"What's wrong, lass? Are yer eyes burning-?"
"You didn't come home..." You whisper quietly.
You hiccup again, reaching up to Cup Soap's face. "You didn't come home...you missed everything..."
Your husband sighs and pulls you into his chest, hushing you as you tearfully let out a string of apologies. Apologies that you're overbearing, and that you didn't mean to annoy him with all of your messages. That you just wanted him to come home so you could spoil him...
"Bonnie...don't cry, listen to me-"
"You didn't come home!"
"I know, I know..."
He looks over, seeing the wine glass you used now empty, but multiple lipstick stains surround the rim.
When your quiet snores reach his ears, he lays you back onto the bed, brushing your hair out of your face.
"I'm so sorry, leannan."
After you left for work, Soap made up a plan on his own. His mother was asking him to bring stuff for the gathering, something about needing the doorway to the pantry to be fixed.
Naturally, he thought he might just stop by, pick up flowers and your favorites, and instead of going to the bar, he'd just come right home!
Simple!
So he gathers his belongings to head out. Phone, wallet, keys, and his jacket.
He's silently begging for a better day, a better management to make sure he doesn't fuck this up. This is an easy fix. Easy.
When he gets to another stop, his eyes land on a floral shop next to the hardware store he was heading towards. Perfect opportunity for him.
Parking his truck, he hops out, and makes his way inside the flower shop.
Gazing at the different arrangments, he makes eye contact with the kind florist behind the counter. An older woman he recognizes from going to church with his mother.
"Johnny is that you? Oh, I've not heard from you since yer wedding!"
"Angie, am I glad to see ye." Soap sighs out. "I need yer help."
With a puzzled look she motions him to continue.
"Is there a chance you have these flowers in season? I forgot the bloody name fer them."
He's quick to swipe through his photos, reaching a picture of similar flowers on the bouquet you had for your wedding.
Angie smiles and nods her head, quick to head to the back.
Wasn't long before he found himself looking around. He blinked over at another bouquet, but only with a singular soft pink rose and tiny white flowers surrounding it.
With a shrug he plucks it from it's bucket and places it on the counter as Angie turns the corner with a bigger bouquet of the flowers he asked for. "Beautiful, just beautiful."
"They are grown right in our yard. Biggest bloom this time of year."
"How much, Angie? I'll take them."
With a swift and quick payment transaction, Soap bids the florist farewell and heads out.
He for some reason remembers the exact box of hinges he got from all that long ago, so it wasn't a very long stop to the hardware store. Soap had the biggest wave of deja vu and was very sure he would be getting a lot of those on the way.
He just hopes it won't batter him away from his personal mission.
Just wants to stop quickly by your work to leave you the nice rose he found.
...
"Alright mum, I'll be seein' ye-!"
"Yer leavin?!" Clyde shouts from across the yard. "Come on, mate it's not even sundown!"
"Yeah Johnny, we were gonna go to the bar later. Didn't want to join us for a bit?"
Soap is quick to decline. "Anniversary plans. Need to find (Y/n) a gift."
Olivia, his oldest sister, tilts her head with an amazing scoff. "My, my. And here I thought you'd forgotten-"
"Oh shut yer trap. I'd never forget something as important-"
"Ye realized this morning didn't ya?"
The sergeant sighs and rubs a hand down his face. "That's not the point. Fuck off, Olive."
With another goodbye to other family, as he's making his way to the door, he unintentionally looks at the mirror as he opens the door. Making eye contact with not himself, but a grinning Captain MacTavish.
"Good on ye, lad."
In the blink of an eye, the reflection turns back to normal, and he sees his spooked-out eyes staring right back at him.
"Fuck me..."
...
Johnny is inwardly fist-pumping to himself. Things could not be going more according to plan. It was terrifying almost, had it not been for the fact that he was so giddy to see you tonight.
It's most likely because he remembers how you made yourself so damn addicting in that piece you wore. Fuck...
Soap stopped by a jewler before heading straight home, finding an adorable necklace with your birthstone in the center of a rose. He had hoped you'd like it.
What he wasn't expecting though, was you to be yelling at him to get out of your shared home.
"What-?"
"Out! I'm not done setting up!!"
"I just got-"
"No! Out!!"
"But Bonnie, I brought ye flowers."
You stop pushing him to the door when you see the bouquet pushed into your view.
"More flowers?"
"Aye. Not just any either."
Your lips parted in awe, noticing they were the same ones you added to your wedding bouquet because they were your favorite. "Aww, Johnny..."
"Didn't think all I got ye was that sad little rose now did-"
"I liked it!"
Soap chuckles, pulling you into him and kissing your forehead. "Good. Now what's going on over there-?"
You gasp, hurrying to keep pushing him out the door. "No! Go chop wood for the fireplace I need like thirty minutes-"
"THIRTY!?"
You groan. "I thought you were going to be with your parents longer!! Out!!!"
With one final push, you shove the man out the house and slam the door behind him. Soap huffs with full offense before hearing the door swing open, you walking around in front of him and yanking the flowers out of his grasp with a quick kiss to the cheek. "Thank you!"
Then the door shuts once more.
"Woman, I swear..."
...
When Soap is finally let back into his own home, he pouts at you any given moment he gets.
"Hey! Stop pouting. I cooked for you!"
"Ye kicked me out of our own home-"
"But I made you your favorite. See?"
His frown doesn't stay for long as you wave the plat of food right under his nose, making a "wooooo" noise as it glides.
"Sit down, dammit. I'll stop, I'm just being..." He stops, noticing you're staring at him, smiling. Not creepily but just...content.
"What...?" he asks.
"I just... I love you. Thank you for making sure you made it here. I know maybe Olivia and her husband wanted to go out tonight or something..."
Soap sighs. If this is what you are thinking now, then he can only imagine your turmoil when he did actually go out all those years ago. You were here all alone, with your own thoughts.
Pressing his lips together he reached over, grasping your hand into his. "I'd be an idiot if I didn't show up here, leannan..."
At his words you flushed with adoration and picked up your own utinsels to eat.
"Oh! I almost forgot!" You squeal, hopping out of the chair and hurrying into the kitchen.
In that moment of silence, Soap reaches into his pocket and pulls out the necklace. Opening it, he places it right in front of your plate so you can see it when you come back. However, as he began fiddling with it, there was a massive pain on the side of his head.
So exruciating it was like he'd been shot all over again. The pain lasted about five seconds before it started mellowing out. Until it finally went away.
The scare of it had Soap gripping onto his head, huffing and groaning quietly to himself.
He heard your footsteps coming and tried to regulate his breathing, taking off his jacket he hadn't even realized he hadn't removed.
"Johnny?"
He turned to see you holding a wine bottle in your middle. "Oh no, what's wrong?" You gasped, hurrying to him.
"Nothing, lass. 'm alright-"
"You look the same as when you woke up this morning!"
Soap shakes his hand and stands, reaching for the bottle (already knowing it's your wedding wine), and pressing his lips against yours.
"Stop." He whispers out. "Stop worrying. Everything is fine. I promise."
You don't smile, or nod, or say anything really. Soap keeps one arm on your waist as he leads you back to your seat but your eyes never leave him.
It's not until you're made aware of his gift on the table that you tear your gaze away, softly gasping at the necklace.
"Where did you-"
"Don't ye worry about where I got it from. Happy Anniversary, (Y/n)."
You look at him again this time with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes.
At least this time it's not out of sadness or forced kindness no. It's worry.
"Are you sure you're okay, Johnny?"
With a mouthful of food, he blinks at you, nodding his head. "Of course" He promises through chewed bread and potatoes. "Thriving."
You opted to just drop the questions, sighing out in defeat. "Well, Okay. Don't eat too fast I still have another present for you."
Soap smiles, not willing to play a guessing game because he wants to see how happy you might get leading the night away.
The sobs were audible in that vet's room. Tiana had been unwell for some time and she had taken the time to give her the care she needed.
But in Rosaline's eyes, she saw no improvement and it broke her heart.
With every heavy breath the little animal took, the more her soul was breaking.
"I'll be here, pretty girl…always here with you." She could hear the purr she was giving her, as her hand carefully stroked her back. "I love you so much, thank you for staying by my side and loving me as I have loved you all my life."
Rosaline felt terribly lonely, she still didn't know how she would end up coping with that situation.
"It's not your fault." The blonde said softly as, out of the corner of her eye, the vet put her little girl to sleep. "My greatest achievement was spending my whole life with you. And finding my little soul mate." She could hear one last mewl, and her fingers had tangled somewhat firmly in the animal's fur.
She held back as much crying as she could.
"I'm sorry, Tiana…my greatest failure was not being able to save you."
Finally, she watched as her little companion took her last breath before closing her eyes completely.
Her knees trembled, causing her to fall into a sitting position on the floor as she covered her face with both hands in an attempt to prevent them from seeing the desolate expression on her face.
maybe nobody reads me, but okay. Yesterday I was busy so I'll do 30 and 31 together.
Prompt: Are you with me?"
"Are you with me?"
her mother's soft, soothing voice echoed through the room, even though she spoke in a low tone of voice.
Lilian blinked a couple of times after setting her coffee cup down on the flower-shaped cup holder made of wool.
She could tell her mother was back to her old knitting habit, she sensed it was a good thing.
"Yes, I'm with you…don't worry…I'm sorry."
He could see her smile, and for a second he could see the woman who had raised her and her uncle. That bright smile she had seen as a child, and she wanted to cry.
"I thought you were ignoring me…since you're always busy…"
"Sorry, Mummy…I'm doing it for you…so that one day you'll come to my flat and you can live peacefully." Muses the redhead as she carefully took her mother's hands. "I want you to be with me and I want us to adopt a puppy, that's why I'm doing it."
Soap mutters as he dismantled an explosive, Rosaline was able to breathe easy as she dropped to the ground.
It was one of those rare times that the paperwork interned NCO accompanied a captain on a mission and luckily or unluckily he had been separated from the rest of them, leaving them both close to an explosive that would blow the place apart.
"It's easy to say when you're trained in that area of the job. I was trained in search and recovery." Rosie sighed, and Johnny looked at her with a smirk. She couldn't help but feel a little cornered by that silly grin.
"Well, I like these things. And you almost always save my ass if you're not behind a screen giving orders."
"I don't give them! I just communicate them!" She rebutted, almost sulking as he folded his arms, averting his gaze to the floor. He patted his spouse's shoulder, chuckling.
"Come on, little one. Come on you still have to lead me out."
Prompt: "I may not get another chance to say this."
"I may not get another chance to say this."
David took a breath as he knocked on the beige painted wooden door. It was the door to Faidh's room, and as he knocked he made sure she was there.
David was taken aback to see his cousin all messed up, her make-up smeared with tears running down her face.
"What?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse, Rosaline peeked around the side of her cousin to look at Faidh. She didn't hesitate to lean over and take her little cousin's wrist rather roughly. "Come here."
She added, dragging Rosie into her room, and closing the door.
Seconds later, though, she opened it to look at David, who was flabbergasted. "Not today, just girls."
And the door closed again once Faidh had entered, and then a sobbing could be heard.
David commented as he looked at Rosaline. A young girl wanting to join the army.
She was maybe sixteen about to turn seventeen.
"They have to do it."
"They'll give you a condition, and knowing them they'll give you a deadline, hoping you'll forget it." Sometimes he didn't believe what his cousin said, he could be giggly and with that little childish side.
"I won't forget…you know that." Rosie seemed determined, and stubborn without changing her mind. David sighed, sitting down next to her. "Ewan doesn't know. And I won't even mention it to him in any letter."
"I think you should tell him. It'll be better this way." He mutters, crossing his arms after sighing.
"Honestly, why would I care? Why should I bother to feel anything for someone who has no idea how things have turned out?"
Sherry was mentally exhausted, she didn't know if it was from the month she'd had a thousand and one things or if she was just overreacting. She could hardly stand the headache, and she didn't know if it was from lack of sleep or just plain hunger.
She hadn't eaten for days, dark circles under her eyes were visible on her white skin and her blonde hair had lost its shine. No, it wasn't her best moment.
She had never felt so lost, so confused, aimless, with nothing to back her up, without… company.
Alone, defeated.
She just felt like the reality she had planned for herself was falling apart.
Ewan questioned as both he and Rosaline just watched the little boy clinging to Rosaline's hand. Rosaline was extorted by her cousin to look after her little cousin, who was only five years old.
"Just because I'm his cousin I don't know what he likes, but he likes legos and playing in the garden." She commented looking at the brown haired boy the little boy nodded silently and intimidated by Ewan. "And he's scared of you…he's scared of strangers." Rosie got down on her knees and carefully took Emil's little hands. "He's my best friend, he's here to hang out with us and he's very very cool."
Ewan couldn't help but smile at that description of him, even averting his gaze in embarrassment and with slightly flushed cheeks.
Rosie and Ewan made eye contact, and for seconds they smiled at each other. She looked at her little cousin again.
"We'll be fine because there's a strong boy looking out for both of us, yeah?"
"I understand…" the little boy said softly, giving his cousin a little hug.
After that little chat, Emil looked like a little puppy following and helping Ewan with anything.
Lilian's voice trembled as she read the documents, she couldn't really believe it, she wasn't trembling from pain or grief, yet she was holding back that little bit of emotion she was suppressing in her expressions.
Relief was evident in her expression as she read the documentation. The mission had gone well, the asset was safe and his boys were safely back in the USA, but even so his excitement was short lived by the commotion outside.
She quickly got to her feet, leaving those papers on the brown wooden desk.
Lilian walked the few steps to the outside and her breathing stopped for a few seconds.
Her father, her tormentor.
Her torturer.
He was there in the CIA.
She swallowed dryly, and some of the agents came over to whisper to the redhead.
"What should we do?"
"Get him out of here and use brute force if necessary."
"Understood." He mutters, turning back to where the older man was standing.
That had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Sherry was tired, exhausted, and dealing with a father who minimized her feelings was difficult,
"You'll never understand what it's like to watch a loved one dying on a gurney while you try to stabilize them."
"I lost comrades, brothers and friends, I know what you are talking about. You just have to go on." He seemed calm enough, no concern, remorse or anything. Just an unperturbed expression that didn't show any sadness or nostalgia. She just let out a cynical laugh.
Sherry couldn't believe that the man was her father, not really. "I lost the most important thing in my life, my fiancé. My partner, every night I mourn him. You're horrible, and I'm glad mum divorced you." That seemed to have moved the man's emotions because he now looked guilty about that last one. "You minimize everything but when it happens to you, you have to have the attention, right? I hate that."
She had never thought of saying those words to him, but she was sick of dealing with it, of putting up with it. Her father was the one who always took it all away, he would sweep away with words and attitudes alone.
"I can't stand people like that, you say you see horrors. You don't know the horrors I've seen from those men in the hospital, crying for their children, parents or spouses."
The blonde took a small breath. She knew that now her father had no hope of objecting to what she said.
"I want you to go, it's late and I have to work tomorrow."
Sherry didn't want to answer when the school nurse asked.
She'd passed out from the fever, she'd heard at first.
But, she was sure, a fever was only normal when she had the flu.
With that pastel pink handkerchief with purple polka dots she covered her mouth as she coughed, after clearing her throat again she flopped down on the bed.
She was tired and didn't have the strength to get up.
The nurse could wait patiently for the answer, but it was her older brother, however, who ended up appearing under the door of the infirmary.
"I'm sorry, I came as fast as I could. I was at the university." He commented quickly, he was shaken and somewhat exhausted but was trying to catch his breath as he entered the room. "I'll take care of her, my parents are busy, sorry cupcake."
The nurse just sighed resignedly but agreed.
Sherry watched as her older brother signed the papers for early retirement from the facility and after grabbing her purse, they left the place and went home to continue resting.
Her uncle mutters as he sets up something on his mobile phone.
Rosie frowned, but what the hell, she couldn't help it, after the whole incident.
Although it was kind of sick to think that they would always be after them.
She just shrugged after staring at that app for a few seconds.
"I'm sorry, I don't like to invade your privacy…but with what happened, I see myself in a position to do so."
"I understand… David too?"
"It's the same for David." Commented the man lying exhausted on the couch. "I don't like it, believe me. But I don't want anything to happen to you."
"I understand." Rosie murmured, having sighed.
Since then Rosaline had stuck to her decision not to say anything rash in her messages and stay where she was supposed to, because apart from the obvious fact that she was being spied on by her aunt and uncle, she didn't want to feel her paranoia consuming her.
