Bullet Deep Intro (Soap x Original Female Character)
Hey guys!!! So, my fic actually starts from Soap's POV starting in Los Almas during the MW2 campaign. Here's the summary and first chapter.
(Do not read if you aren't prepared for canon spoilers to the MW2 game!!)
Slow burn John MacTavish x Original female character, but it heavily follows the plot of MW2's final missions before diverging into my own non-canon after the game story.
Dove "Orphan" McLaughlin is 141s field medic. Despite having been recruited around the same time as the others, the boys really don't know what to make of her. Though she seems friendly enough, she's quiet- Always skillfully tiptoeing around the numerous attempts 141 has made to learn more about her. That is, until a smoldering betrayal drops her, John "Soap" MacTavish, and Simon "Ghost" Riley on the streets of Las Almas together...
Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish
John "Soap" MacTavish's hand had slowly made its way to the radio strapped to his chest. Every movement he made was slow, really. The Scotsman had taken a bullet to his upper left arm, the burning heat radiating deep within his bicep… The arm he used to guide his rifle with. Not that he had any weapon, let alone a rifle, at his disposal right now. Being disarmed when Graves, in his betrayal, had sent him plummeting down a steep hill that led straight to the heart of Las Almas. His breath was hitched and labored with pain as he finally made an attempt at establishing communication.
There wasn't any response. There wasn't even dead air on the other side that may have indicated that "Orphan", Dove McLaughlin, was there, but in a situation where she couldn't speak. After a minute had passed without a reply, Soap's chest twisted and ached with anxiety.
"Orphan, copy?" He said again, met with the same total silence as before. It was clear to him that she wouldn't be answering, and for his own mental wellbeing, he was going to assume she was dead until he was alerted otherwise. It would make finding her body- if he were to stumble upon it- anticipated. And if she was still breathing, it would be a pleasant surprise.
"Ghost, how copy?" Soap's voice trembled, his previous thoughts about Orphan having an unintentional impact on him. An impact that he began to relive when Simon "Ghost" Riley offered a response no better than the last. Much as he adored Orphan, Ghost's possible death scared him.
"Lt," He breathed out, "Do you copy?"
The bleak reality- that he had found himself entirely alone, cold, and bleeding on the notoriously dangerous streets of Las Almas began to set in. The soon to follow gunshots and screams in the distant alleyways and shops made his hair feel electric, standing straight. He finally made his way up to a crouching position when a familiar buzzing made itself known.
"Johnny," It was Ghost's rough, deep voice coming through. Never in his life had Soap felt so much relief. Ghost's Manchester accent, of which Soap often teased him about, felt safe and secure, "Where did you end up landing?"
"I'm… Not sure sir," Soap began as he looked around for any sort of monument that would indicate his location. Before he could get a good look, a group of Shadow Company soldiers passed through the intersection directly in front of him. He was lucky enough to have been hidden behind a car when they did. One of their radios kicked on within earshot as they moved, Soap catching Grave's voice splitting through: Find those Brits, dead or alive… You know my preference.
"They're hunting us, Ghost."
"Congratulations Johnny, you've spotted the obvious," There was a long silence before Ghost continued, "It looks like that hill dropped you right off at the edge of the city. Look up," His voice was demanding, not an edge of worry lacing it, "Do you see a church straight ahead?"
"Yes," Soap's eyes focused on the looming architecture, catching yellow flashes of light in the windows of far off buildings as he did. Assuming those were gunshots- and they almost definitely were- Shadow Company must have covered the length of the city. Soap's eyes widened a bit… Were they killing civilians? "Yes, I see the church."
"We'll meet there then. Stay low and move fast…" Ghost's breath came through, steady and quiet, he must not have been hurt. Or if he was, he wasn't letting it cut through his focus, "Are you injured Johnny?"
"What difference does it make, sir?"
"This is Narc territory, there might be a stash or two of adrenaline somewhere. It will help, keep an eye out for it."
Soap said a genuine but quiet thank you before moving up through the colorful buildings and decorated streets- all of which felt so eerily out of place because of the given situation. It wasn't long before it started to rain, which felt so fitting in contrast.
"Lt. How long did it take you to leave- after I fell down here?" Soap didn't sound curious when he spoke, exactly. He sounded like he was using this question to preface something.
"Seconds, if we're being generous. Why?"
Soap didn't reply right away. The scene of the betrayal began to play out in his head…
Dove "Orphan" McLaughlin was 141's medic. But because the boys so rarely received major injuries, she was often just suppressive fire. Sometimes even an extra, stealthy hand, when the other (very large) members of 141 couldn't fit into tight spaces. Her code name, Orphan, came from her very noticeable red hair- Of which was styled to be wavy and short, falling just a little past her ears… Her hair color often had Ghost calling her things like "Annie" and "Pippi Longstocking." The name stuck… She was the youngest of the crew, a bit younger than Soap, 26 to his 28.
She was also the first member Grave's had opened fire on after Alejandro had escalated the situation. Soap had assumed it was because she was the closest to the action after Alejandro- to the right of Ghost, but in hindsight he noticed that he and Ghost hadn't been much farther behind her. They were both a bigger target too… She was probably shot first, he decided, because Graves wanted absolutely no survivors. And what better way to ensure that than to eliminate the medic? Graves must have known, from working closely with 141, that everyone had first aid training- but no one but her could perform a successful extraction of a bullet that landed in someone's head or heart- assuming they survived the initial should-be fatal wound. Something that happened far more often than one would think. When the rain of bullets started, Soap was immediately occupied with using the Shadow Company agent closest to him as a human shield. He saw out of the corner of his eyes Orphan, stumbling back, but he couldn't see where the bullet- or bullets landed. And before he could offer his companion any sort of help, he was flat on his own back with a burning pain in his arm. Everything after that was a blur.
Finally, Soap snapped back to the present.
"Did you see what happened to Orphan?" As the question left his lips, he noticed his voice came out a bit stronger than he intended. And Ghost didn't respond right away.
"Yeah," He finally replied.
Soap almost didn't want to pry further, the fact that Ghost couldn't answer his question right away made his stomach hurt.
"She's about 10 minutes from being a KIA," Ghost's voice was as steady as it ever was, but there was some fleeting urgency that barely peeked through, "She ended up taking 3 bullets straight to the chest. I have no idea how she's breathing, let alone walking, and," His voice sounded frustrated now, "On top of all that, she won't even let me look at the wounds- the bleeding isn't stopping by itself Johnny," Despite using his name, it didn't sound like he was talking to Soap when he said that. It literally sounded like his voice was farther from the mic than usual, like he turned his head to say that to Orphan herself.
Soap purposefully let out a sigh of relief, "Good god," His Scottish accent was much stronger under the tension, "I couldn't get ahold of her at all, does she have her radio on?"
"...Well technically, she got shot four times. One of 'em busted her coms instead of the lung below it," The sound of shuffling came through the mic, followed by a quiet I think Johnny wants to have a word or two. There was crackling before soft, gentle panting came through the mic. Soap's chest felt achy again when he heard it. It was as painful a feeling as it was earlier, but it didn't feel quite the same as it did when he was mourning her.
"John," Orphan's Irish accent was likewise, strong as it had ever been. Everyone's accents seemed to be amplified by the stress, or maybe amplified by the fact that they were all listening to one another's voices as if it would be the last time, "What's your status?"
"Don't worry about that, you…" MacTavish said softly, a part of him felt like crying for her. Throughout all of 141s missions, Ghost and Orphan had become some of his best friends, a family in arms. Gaz was part of that family too, but was often on the other side of the world with Price, "Ghost told me you're still holding your own?"
There was a little laugh, followed by an equally little wince, "Trying to."
"You have to let Ghost fix you up-"
She cut him off, "The bullets," Her voice sounded quieter, hazier, further from him the longer she talked, "Are all way too close to my heart to pull out without proper equipment and training," Silence filled the air to an eerie extent after she said that, "And… I think that… Wrapping me up… Might…"
"Don't close your eyes," Ghost's voice shot through the mic.
"Wrapping me up might embed them further…"
Soap grabbed his chest momentarily when she said that. His breathing stopped completely for a second before he finally took a long, deep breath inwards to ground himself back to reality, "And if you don't get wrapped up at all Hen, you're going to bleed out," He was met with silence, "I think you're right about trying to remove them, but if there's any chance that wrapping you up is going to save you, you better take it. Okay?"
"...Okay," She finally said. Soap and Ghost didn't know very much about Orphan, she was a private person. She was kind and motherly- Not a surprise to anyone, as Price had referred to her as a parent directly when he introduced her to 141- But beyond her gentle smiles and the always-analyzing look in her eye, she was quiet… She didn't talk about her life before 141, or how she got into the military at all. Hell, Ghost had told the others more about his past than she ever had. But at the same time, Soap always assumed that she wore her heart on her sleeve. That maybe that's all there was to her, a simple warmth and kindness. Whatever she was, he wanted to keep it alive and close.
If you'd like to read the whole fic, you can find it on Ao3 as "Bullet Deep" by Morofic :)!!!
dededos
areudirty
janainaart
theartofmadeline
titsay
