Chapter Text
Soap broke.
Every part inside of him fell apart immediately at the news. His sister, his beautiful, amazing older sister had gotten into a car accident with her husband and three kids. Only the kids survived. He had been in the common area when he got the call.
The team was playing cards, a happy aura between all of them as they laughed at Gaz obviously cheating again. Price and him were arguing loudly about it when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out.
His mother was calling which immediately sent an unnerving feeling down his spine as he glanced at the time. She should be in bed by now. He stands, walking away from the group a little and immediately answering the call.
On the other end was loud sobbing that could be heard probably from miles away. She was speaking incoherently, rushed. His friends quieted down at the sound before he heard two chairs screech against the floor, along with multiple pairs of footsteps. "Ma, I can't understand you. What's wrong?" He asked, patiently.
"She's dead!" She wailed, "My baby is dead."
Alarm coursed through his veins. A coldness followed as he processed the words. Her baby was dead. She was dead. One of his sisters was dead. Tears pricked at his eyes as he croaked, "Ma, who? Which one? Is it Anna or Clara?"
"Anna," She manages, "They got in a car accident."
He felt like his world collapsed in on him. Flashbacks of his older sister practically helping to raise him flooded through his mind as tears began to freely fall. She was his best friend growing up as they were only nine months apart. They did everything together. Not that he hoped it was Clara, his younger, either.
He felt himself stumbling backwards and a hand on his back caught him, before rubbing circles soothingly. Soap felt so many things at once. Disbelief, shock, anger, grief— but it all came to a startling halt. They. She said they. "Chris? The kids. Are they okay?"
"Chris is gone too, John. The kids are alright. They lived. Some drunk driver hit them head on and— I just don't understand? Why?" She sobbed again, "It's not supposed to be like this. I go first. Me. But now I have to bury my baby. My eldest daughter. What am I supposed to do?"
He didn't have answers for her. But, he knew she wasn't looking for them. She was just letting her grief out freely as she talked to, probably not even aware of what she was saying. Soap let out a shaky breath. She then says, "I still have to call Clara. Then the kids are going to stay with me until they go through her wishes... So I have to go. Will you be coming home?"
"Of course. I'll talk to Price once we hang up."
"Alright," She sniffles, "I love you."
"I love you too, mom."
She hangs up and Soap can feel his resolve slipping. He slowly brings the phone down, hands visibly shaking as he does so. She can't be gone. He just saw her at Christmas. Anna is gone? He turns.
Ghost and Price are both standing behind him, concern clear on their faces. The hand, that he now knows belonged to his lieutenant, slides to his arm gripping it. He meets his eyes. Then, he breaks.
Absolutely shatters.
Soap's knees collapse in on him and two arms catch him before he falls as loud sobs leave his lips. He blindly grabs at whoever it was, not entirely here at the moment due to his emotions overtaking him. There's a soft, "Johnny, I got you" in his ears as a hand comes up to cradle the back of his head.
"My sister's dead," He whispers.
—
Price grants his leave that night, telling him to pack his bags since he's leaving in the morning. A numb had overtaken him as he did so. He thinks that when he broke in front of his friends, a piece never came back to him when he reassembled. Every few moments he'll let out a choked out sob. But then take a deep breath and compose himself. Yet no matter what, his eyes still feel wet even if tears aren't falling from them.
A tentative knock is sounding on his door before it opens. Gaz is standing there, sympathy clear on his face. "Hey Soap," He greets quietly.
"Hi, Gaz."
He comes up to him then, placing a hand on his shoulder. "How you doing, mate?" he asks. Soap just gives the fellow sergeant an incredulous look causing him to wince slightly in response. Then, Gaz is wrapping him up in the tightest hug he's ever received from him. The weight feels comforting. When Soap lets out a choked out noise, he squeezes tighter with quiet, gentle soothing coming from him.
"You're going to be alright, mate."
Soap hopes to a God he doesn't believe in anymore that that's true.
—
It was after the funeral when his world really got flipped off is axis and hurled into the sun at full speed. Anna's oldest, Leah, was in his arms as tears streamed down her face and gross boogers leaked from her nostrils. There were a couple of cuts on her face from the accident. Her long, brown hair was curled in a delicate way and her black dress was still neatly on her as she refused to change. There was a knock on the door.
The three year old, Alec, looks over at it from his spot on the floor with Clara. The little car in his hands halted. Soap watches his father cast a confused glance at his mother, who had the newborn, Sophie, in her arms. He made his way to the door. Upon opening it, an older, official looking lad with a briefcase stood there with a neutral expression on his face. None of them recognized him. "Hi, sir. My name is Harold Gerber. Im a lawyer. I'm here to see a John Mactavish?" The man says.
Soap immediately stands and makes his way over to stand behind his father. "That would be me," He says. Leah grips onto his now tear stained suit tighter. The man nods, wordlessly pointing to the inside of the small house and both Mactavish men step aside to let him in. Harold steps in, setting the briefcase on the coffee table. His eyes dance between Alec and Leah.
Soap sets his niece down with a, "Why don't you two go play outside, yeah? Let the adults talk."
Leah looks like she wants to object but tender upon looking at Harold, causing her to grab her brother's arm and race out the back door. Soap's mom makes her way closer to them as the lawyer sits, opening the briefcase to pull out some papers. "I'll cut right to the chase, alright?"
The family nods. He directs his attention onto Soap, saying, "Your sister left you everything. The house, the kids—"
"What?" John can't help but cut him off, "The kids? She left me the kids?"
He snatches the paper out of his hand and immediately realizes he's staring at a will. Sure enough, as he reads, he realizes that it says in the event of her husband passing as well that John Mactavish, her younger brother, is expected to care for her three children. He blinks. Why would she leave him with her children? Half of them growing up, he's been on a whole other continent. He doesn't know the first thing about taking care of kids.
Harold stares at him, unamused. But, doesn't say anything as he processes it. His heart was pulling him in all kinds of different directions as he read it over and over again. The kids were... Everything to him. When away, he'd write letters with funny little drawings on them for the little ones. When Leah was born, Soap had requested leave so that he could meet the wee rascal.
However, if he did this, he'd have to give up his career. Something that makes him feel whole. It makes him soar with purpose and confidence in who he is. Plus, the 141 is there. They're his family also. If he never came back, would they replace him? Would they move on?
Ghost is there.
Simon "Ghost" Riley; the man he had fallen hopelessly in love with last year after the events of Las Almas. Would he be able to give him up? To leave? After they've gotten so close? Ghost certainly wouldn't come visit. The military is that man's whole career.
But this is the last thing his sister left him with. Her last wishes. She had confidence that he could do the job right and he doesn't know if he could turn it down. Anna always had so much faith in him. Even when they were younger and he had no idea what he'd do with his life. She was his best friend. After their parents had responded poorly to his coming out, she had been there to catch him. To tell him what they were saying was wrong. That she loved him.
He swallows, "Did she say why?"
Harold sighs, "Yes. She had told me your parents were getting older and couldn't keep up with raising three more kids. Anna didn't want to do that to them. Clara is too young. She's only twenty-two and still in college. You, however, are twenty seven with a stable income along with more life experience. She also said she doesn't know anyone else in your family well enough to trust them to raise her children. All money from her career and her husband's goes to you also. It's for the kids. If you'd like to turn it down, that's fine. But we'll need to figure out an arrangement."
Soap nods, looking down at the writing again. A steady hand lands on his shoulder with a tight squeeze. He has no doubt it's his father. It's something he's done since he himself was a child. It was a comforting gesture meant to give him a clear head to decide a big decision.
He could turn it down. Go back to living life. But he knows he won't. Abandoning those kids would haunt him for the rest of his life if he did. Plus, Anna would probably rise from her grave and beat him senseless if he did.
"I'll do it."
Harold smiles, "Good man."
Simon haunts his brain again. But he can't be selfish like that. He just can't. Not when there's three children that need someone to raise them involved. He has no idea how he'll do it on his own. Just an hour ago he was a single bachelor with nothing else to worry about but himself. Now, he's suddenly a single dad with three mouths to feed and no idea how the fuck to even raise them.
—
The phone rings once before it's picked up immediately. A new set of nerves settle in his stomach as the man he looks up to as a father figure answers with a, "Hello?"
"Hey, Price," Johnny manages, "I have some bad news."
"What's wrong?" He asks, concern lacing his voice.
"I can't come back, sir. I'm sorry. Anna left me with her children. I thought about turning it down but... I Just cant. And I'm not going to raise them from a base. I'll feel too guilty leaving them like that," He explains. Soap leans against his childhood bedroom wall, picking at the slightly chipped blue paint. A frown had etched itself onto his lips as pain rigs deep in his heart at the idea of quitting the one thing that made him feel like him. The thing he's wanted since he was a teenager visiting his cousin on base. It all feels so long ago now. Which it is. But he hates to let it go.
"I see," Price mumbles. It's quiet between the two of them for a moment. Both men mourning the end of a chapter. The sound of a book slamming shut echos in the back of both of their minds.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Don't be. I completely understand. We'll miss you dearly but this is certainly more important. I'll send a car to pick you up tomorrow so you can come pack your things. I'll inform the team..."
"Thank you, sir," Soap sighs, "For everything."
A knot forms in his throat after the words leave his mouth. It causes his voice to crack slightly at the end of the sentence and he knows the captain had heard it. A sad chuckle resonates from the other end, "This isn't goodbye, son."
"Feels like it is."
"It's not. We're a family. I'll always be a part of your life, Mactavish, even if I'm not your captain."
A warm feeling erupts in his chest. However, before he can even respond through the speakers sounds another voice rumbling a loud, "What?" Soap instantly knows who it is. The nice feeling drops. It turns into a cold, icy fist clenching his heart. Loud rustling and thumping is heard, as if someone's trying to snatch the phone away from the old man.
"Ghost just walked in," Price informs, "I have to go. Be ready tomorrow at 0900."
Then Price hung up.