Angst!TF141 & You x Valeria
Trigger warnings: death & loss, talk of loss of a child, grieving, foul language, nudity, talk of sex, sexual themes/language, threats, violence, talk of drugs.
You find yourself caught between your occupation and your one true love, having to make a decision that would end up costing you everything
Your Captain slams through the common room door and strides over to where you and the other men were gathered.
"We're going back to interrogate El Sin Nombre."
You rise from your chair in exasperation as Ghost and Soap exclaim in unison, "wot?"
Gaz raises his eyebrow and crosses his arms, making his way from behind the bar to stand next to Price.
"We already interrogated her. She didn't have any useful information."
"Wrong. Laswell claims she recently obtained the exact location as to where Makarov is located. We leave in five, get your gear ready." Price strides back through the door and makes his way towards the aircraft.
You exchange skeptical glances with the others as you hurry to gather your belongings.
The first interrogation had been unsuccessful. Even with no information, Valeria did not take kindly to Soap pretending to be someone else to get information on Makarov. Once she had figured out what was going on, she sent Soap back to Captain Price with a message:
"You will be sorry for the stunt your taskforce has pulled today if any of you are ever seen involved with my Cartel again. Your Captain will forever grieve those losses."
Your team took a different approach this time.
Without interacting with a single member of the Cartel, Laswel managed to figure out El Sin Nombre's location at a time of vulnerability. She was alone, and no guards were around to save her.
She was on a personal vacation at her summer house, a secluded spot located in Mexico.
She had just secured a deal with Makarov, bringing in around a half-million to her business. Valeria was positive that she had covered all her tracks of such risky business. Elated and further financially free, she traveled to her sanctuary to celebrate. To celebrate herself.
Sensual music filled the air. Candles lit the room with the flickers of a memory from a warm Christmas night as a kid.
The soothing feel of the rose scented essential oil whose bottle had been delicately emptied into the water by her rugged fingers, battle ridden from guns and fistfights, scarred from the dirty work that she encountered on the daily.
The tub's surface, plastered in bubbles, gave way as her arm descended past the tranquility of the water. Small ripples of water tickled her skin. Absent minded and body engulfed underneath the froth of her bubble bath, this was the only thing that secluded her naked body from the outside world and the sheer terror of her job.
"For Christ's sake grab that towel and cover that shit up, Ghost!"
Price was taken aback by the situation that we had cornered El Sin Nombre in.
Quick to follow his Captain's orders, Ghost swiftly grabbed the piece of cotton and draped it around her dripping and exposed figure.
Valeria was hissing curses at us as she struggled to free herself from the 6'3, brooding man that was currently restraining her.
"Great, you guys think this is going to score us brownie points with her?" You scoffed at Captain Price.
"I don't give a fuck about gaining any of her trust! I give a fuck about where THE FUCK MAKAROV IS," he leaned in and spat towards Valeria's wriggling figure.
The men had forcefully lifted her from the tub to interrogate her. After many verbal threats and near slips of the towel, they still remained unsuccessful in retrieving any information as to Makarovs current position. In such a situation, they were scared to escalate to physical blows.
"Fucks sake, get out of the room, leave me to her," you were positive you could get the information they needed. They were going about this the completely wrong way.
They exchanged irritated and hesitant glances, but stormed out of the room all the same, slamming the door behind them in an angry distress.
Ever since that day you were enthralled in a fairytale of love that you used to believe only existed in movies. After finding out where Makarov was hiding and leaving him as a lifeless body, you focused all of the spare moments you got to sneak around with the most feared and dangerous person in Las Almas.
Nobody ever saw the moments you managed to steal together in the times of darkness.
The stolen moments where at any time the members of her Cartel could create a bloodbath on the street next to the very alleyway you were both tucked in, hiding, confiding in each other.
Sharing your deepest secrets and the most forbidden parts of your bodies.
Your worries, your problems. No secrets were kept from each other.
Somewhere in a moment of disrupted peace, of an embarrassing and totally fucked up moment, she had found her soulmate in you.
Your current mission involved taking out the Cartel in Las Almas.
Captain Price had finally decided that the best way to celebrate taking out Makarov and to repay Alejandro for the extra help in Las Almas was to do good by the citizens of the town that Varga's grew up in.
You were currently in Price's office, going over the plans one final time.
Your heart could've been racing out of your skin and to the nearest hospital. It had dropped to your stomach, and you were in physical pain.
Valeria didn't know about this mission.
When you joined the taskforce 141, you agreed to put the job before love, before family, and before yourself.
This would be the only secret you kept from her. She wouldn't even know that it was the first and only. You would be the only one to endure the suffering that this decision brought.
That kind of fairytale love really did just exist in movies, to remain forever intangled until death within the destined lovers.
Your job came first. That's what you kept repeating in your mind, trying to convince yourself that this was the only choice. Even if you quit your job, if you warned her, the family that you had made here after years of sacrifices for the greater good, they would cast aside any memory of you. They would forget you ever existed if they knew the dirty secrets you were keeping from them. You guessed there was only so long you could hide it anyway.
You would bury any recollection of Valeria. You would abandon your heart and disattach from any further form of love. You would reclaim complete devotion to your job until death.
You will apostatize the faith towards your goddess and worship on your knees the duties of your lifetime commitment to your profession.
Everything will be fine. Take a deep breath and put the last piece of your gun back together.
Through the trembles that ripple through your hands, threatening to take over your entire body, you manage to put the magazine back in your gun and direct your attention back to Captain Price.
"We leave in 5, meet me on the tarmac pronto."
Gunshots rang across the street, coming from every direction. There were about 100 of you.
TF141; assets of Laswell's and corresponding military members; and Alejandro and his men lined the streets of Las Almas against the Cartel.
Cartel men in buildings fired shots towards the ground through shattered windows. Grenades thrown from your allies scattered the remains of your enemies in a deafening Bang!
Helos flew close to the ground, spewing missiles and rockets across the structures around you.
Just in time, you managed to roll out from behind the car you were taking shelter behind and take the hand that Ghost offered you. Raising you from the ground, he spat a command at you to run and push up to the alleyway in front of you. He crouched and raised his gun above the brick wall that had previously been a club - now blown up - which you now both currently reside behind.
As you run out from the only thing separating you and the steel bullets of your enemies, the only thought on your mind is making sure that Valeria is okay.
Abandoning any vow that you made before getting in the truck with your comrades, you sprint towards the building that you know she resides in as she conducts her daily business.
She sleeps there, she eats there, she kills there. She has to be there.
You narrow your vision to the path in front of you, ignoring the cry of warfare around you that embodies the city of souls.
"Keep going, keep going" you chant over and over under your breath. A shot rings out from above.
A near miss, it hits the pavement in front of you.
BANG! That one whizzes past your shoulder.
BANG! Searing pain spreads across your leg. A glass shattering scream escapes your lips. This one connected.
You stumble in agony and hit the ground. The bullet went through your thigh, spared from hitting bone.
Tears blur your vision. You manage to divert your focus to ripping the exposed part of the bottom of your shirt into a thin strip of fabric. Wincing and crying out in agony, you wrap it around the bullet hole and pull tight. It rips another scream from your throat as your vision blackens, threatening a blackout.
"No no no no no NO I need to get to her I need to find her."
One hand on the ground, then the other. Now push, straighten up your back. Put your feet flat on the ground, stand up.
Arms out to your sides, balance. Shift your weight off your bad leg.
You walk yourself step-by-step of standing up in your head, each movement taking up the little strength you have left. Getting shot is never a good feeling.
Find her, find her, find her, move, one foot in front of the other.
Faster, I have to go faster.
Limping, basically dragging your wounded leg behind you like a zombie, you persevered towards your one true goddess.
The only one worthy of your worship.
You reach the building in time to see her - accompanied by her most trusted guards - burst through the front door of the homestead.
"VALERIAAA!!" You screamed for her. Your arm reached out towards her.
Her eyes snap to you, shining through them was the sheer terror that was always hidden by the authority of her role. You could see through it, you always could.
It was one of the qualities she liked best about you. Behind the mask of violence she fronts to her sheep and the innocent citizens of Las Almas, you see through to the fear she experiences in this twisted charade.
Her body twists towards you, her arm reaches out, followed by a leg. She pushes off the other into a leap - the start of a sprint.
A whizzing, a comet of light streaking your eyes. It makes contact with the building.
It explodes like a firework.
Within a second the sky is engulfed in a cloud of smoke. It resembles a small mushroom cloud, but the only nuclear explosion was in your heart.
The shock wave slammed into your ribs, your head collided with the pavement, and everything went dark.
Three months later you awoke from your coma in the med wing. Bullet wound and broken ribs nearly healed.
You sat up, and the recollection of the last thing that happened before you blacked out flooded back into your memory.
Tears cascaded down your cheeks, streaming down your chin and neck, soaking the top of your medical gown.
Tears turned into sobs, your cries rang through the base like a mother who had just lost her child.
Your head pounded, your heart ached, your stomach churned bile just from thinking of the explosion, threatening its release through your mouth.
Footsteps grew closer, but they were just an echo in your head.
The door was thrown open, voices resonated through the air like the false promises of a loved one. Ignored, and unimportant.
Someone was shining a light in your eyes, a voice asking your name drifted into an echoed repetition, until you were no longer sure if it was even said at all. Like a bad high gone wrong.
You blinked, vision blurry, mind overwhelmed, distraught. Covering your face in your hands, you fold your body over your knees and sob into the bed. Even muffled, they rose above any other voice in the room.
"Love? Love, we're here." Price put a hand on your back, tracing up and down in an attempt to bring you back to the moment and calm you down.
Ghost leaned up against the wall nearest the door, eyes trained on the ground in front of him. For once, they looked a bit sad, glossy and heavy, dissociated in a far away place. Back to the night of the attack on the Las Almas Cartel.
Ghost and Price had been the first to find your body, laying lifeless on the pavement, covered in rubble. Price had dropped to the floor and grabbed your wrist, confirming a pulse to Ghost. It was a flood of relief for the team, but back at the base, the weight of a suspected coma brought down their spirits. It was three long months long of worry that you would never awaken again.
Now, in the room, they had no idea that your display of grief was about Valeria, and not the trauma the war had put on your body.
Your body started to shake, starting to hyperventilate as you tried to calm yourself down enough to form words.
Gaz moved to the side of the bed, and Soap sat on the side of you that was not claimed by Price. He reached around your body to pull you into a tight embrace.
It was not his fault, or Gaz's, or Ghost's, for it was your Captain that helped to devise such a plan. Nonetheless, you gathered the strength to take a deep breath, pause the sobs and hyperventilating, and to shove Johnny's arm off of you.
Scurrying off the bed and getting your footing on the floor for the first time in a long time, you whipped around to face your Captain.
"LOVE? OH YOU'RE HERE? YOU'RE HERE NOW BUT YOU COULDN'T BE THERE FOR ME THREE MONTHS AGO" you spat into his face.
He was not shocked at your reaction, rather, his face dropped even more than it had before. "I know love. I am so, so sorry. I should'a made sure you were nowhere near tha building before they sent the missile." Tears started to fall from his eyes, "it was all my fault, I confirmed the launch..."
"ME? YOU THINK I'M UPSET THAT I GOT HURT? YOU THINK I'M UPSET THAT IT BROKE MY RIBS AND PUT ME INTO A COMA?"
"I deserve the sarcasm love, I deserve whatever you have to throw at me right now."
"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT MYSELF. I'M NOT BEING SARCASTIC... VALERIA. VALERIA WAS IN THAT BUILDING." The last parts of your sentence faltered with the whispers of your heartache.
"Wot?" Ghost exclaimed. "Why do you give a flying fuck ab't her?"
"SHE WAS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. I FUCKING LOVED HER. I FUCKING LOVED HER" you jabbed your finger towards him, another sob escaped from your chest, bringing a sore, sharp pain up your stomach, through your ribs, and into your throat.
"What the hell are you on abou' bonnie?" Soap questioned, his brows furrowing.
Everyone was looking at you, staring into the depths of your eyes. Secrets that you had fought so hard and so long to keep - life altering secrets - were ripped from within your soul in this moment. Brought to the surface, exposed in a beam of light from the heavens above. It was finally time to face the music.
"SHE WAS MY EVERYTHING. SHE KNEW EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING BUT THAT WE WERE GOING TO KILL HER THAT NIGHT. I SHOULD HAVE TOLD HER. SHE WOULD BE ALIVE. SHE WOULD BE ALIVE AND I WOULD BE DEAD TO YOU BUT SHE WOULD BE ALIVE." You turned to Ghost, "YOU THINK THREATENING HER WAS GOING TO GET YOU THE INFORMATION THAT YOU WANTED?" You scoffed at the recollection of the sheer stupidity in their tactics. The sound that came from your chest sounded psychotic, evil, and mocking. Trained killers with bodies of steel had been too afraid of a naked woman to properly torture her.
"I GOT THE INFORMATION FROM HER," you put your hand on your chest, "WITHOUT EVEN TORTURING HER."
Your success in securing Makarov's location had brought about questions as to what made her break. You had resorted to a story about physical violence, as you were the same sex and were not bothered by her exposed form.
"What do you mean hon?" Price's face contorted in confusion, attempting to recall the results of the intervention that was staged earlier in the year.
Your voice turned shaky, you looked him as the eye as you jeered, "I fucked her. I got the information that you needed by having sex with her. I connected with her, mentally and physically. We bonded, she trusted me, and I trusted her. Since she already closed her deal with Makarov, him being dead would mean she didn't have to supply him with the drugs that he bought. He would never find out that she ratted on him, I told her that I would make sure of it. I promised my soul to her that I would keep her safe. There is good in her, her trade requires violence so that people obey her, so that they are scared enough to conform and not to question. She understood the importance to me of finding Makarov, how much it would mean to our mission. She opened up to me, took pleasure in me, confided in me. We met for months after, helped each other's missions in small ways, built as much of a life together that we could in the fucked up rules that our titles held for us. Then you burned it to the ground," you gestured towards Price.
Your sadness turned to anger. Your first connected a blow to Price's face, and the others scrambled to get a hold of you. Kicking your leg out, your foot made contact with Soap's abdomen. The breath was sucked out of him, and he doubled over in pain.
"OY, FUKIN' CALM DOWN" Ghost pushed off the wall and stalked towards you. Crouching down and swerving around him, you grabbed the knife off his holster and kicked him in the back of his shins. He fell on his knees, and the moment they hit the floor you kicked his upper back, sending him face first onto the ground.
Gaz's advances were cut short upon seeing the knife in your hand. He was a skillfully trained killing machine, but he had never been taught how to handle a situation quite like this.
You strode towards Price in two wide steps and lunged the hand holding Ghost's knife towards his throat. Grabbing your wrist with one hand and blocking your body with the other, he managed to stop the attempted murder you intended to inflict on him. He could basically see the red behind your eyes. Fueled by rage you freed your wrist from his grip and gashed his arm with the knife.
At this escalation, Gaz freed his mind from the chokehold of you being a beloved friend and lunged at you. He pinned you on the floor from behind and Ghost took this opportunity to grab ahold of your wrist with one hand and then to snatch the knife from your grip with the other.
Spitting obscenities at them, you flailed around in attempt to break free from your captors and continue your righteous attempt to kill Price. You were unsuccessful. Rage turned once again into sorrow, and more sobs climbed out from the depths of your newfound hell.
"Let 'er go," Price mutters from the bed, nursing his wound.
"I don't think that's a good idea Cap'..."
He takes a breath in, "do it."
With wavering looks they released you from their hold.
You needed to get the hell out of there. It was enough for you. You needed to find your peace, and to further try and kill them would either end with your imprisonment or your own death.
Rising to your feet - without looking at any of the four bodies surrounding you - you turned to the door, stepped outside, stole the keys to one of the military issued trucks, drove down the path towards civilization,
