Chapter Text
“And, this is the garage.”
Starting a new job was always something a bit strange, for Johnny. Discovering a new place, meeting with new people. He was a sociable person, loved to meddle, to chat and speak for hours, he could hold a conversation with no effort at all but it didn't take away the slight nervousness he was currently feeling.
Being ex-military didn't help. Everybody knew how hard it was for them to go from active duty (and active warzones) to a civilian life. The change of scenery, the lack of rules, the little help they received to smoothen with the transition, it was harsh. Harsher than what Johnny had braced himself for, harsher than he could have ever expected.
But with the explosion that had almost taken his leg away, leaving him with chronic pains and limping for the rest of his life, it wasn’t as if he could have continued there any longer. He hadn't passed his last physical exam, unable to run for the demanded amount without excruciating pain, and his psych eval had revealed that even a desk job wouldn’t suit him.
Hence why he had been discharged. Honorably, with a box full of medals for missions which reports were mostly blacked out and locked under seals and securities. With a pension that technically would allow him to live the rest of his life comfortably enough, along with the money he had amassed along the years, for not having to spend a penny on food or shelter as the military had provided with these.
It didn’t mean Johnny could have ever lived that kind of lazy life, especially not so early after his discharge. It was never in his character to stay idle for too long, needing to move around or, at least, have something to do.
And he had traveled the world already, his job had forced him to. But he wouldn't be against doing it again, at some point. Maybe he’d be able to enjoy it, now his life wasn’t in danger anymore.
Not just now, though. Not now he was starting a new job, having been hired by that company.
Finding a job after his discharge hadn’t been easy, after all. People were wary of veterans, fearing anything might trigger their PTSD, fearing they might go off for no apparent reason. Johnny had struggled with it, with the rejection letters he had received for jobs he was more than qualified for.
He and his team had taken down entire terrorist cells. He could man a cash register for sure.
The last grocery store he had applied to hadn’t been too sure about it. They had sent him back his letter along with one of their own stating they didn't need anyone.
The “Help wanted” sign at the front of the store still was up, three weeks after said rejection.
It was why Johnny had decided to create his own job. No one wanted him ? He'd hire himself. And it hadn’t been too hard to find what he'd do.
From a young age, Johnny had always been attracted to visual arts. He loved to draw and paint, and had become quite decent with both as well. He loved going to galleries whenever he could, before signing up for the army, and loved learning new things.
Photography had been one of his interests as well and he had taken some nice shots before but Johnny had never imagined making it his job. Until his discharge that was, until he sat in his flat and started wondering what the fuck he would do if the usual means to find a job didn't work out.
His mother had helped, bless her heart. She had reminded him how he used to bother her to be able to take the family pictures, as a kid. How he could try his hand at it more seriously.
So, Johnny bought himself a decent camera. He found online courses to teach himself the technical aspects of it, reading for hours and hours until he felt good enough to give it a try.
He started to advertise himself online, using his best pictures in hopes it'd be enough.
And enough it had been.
It was how he had found himself here. Hired by that huge car dealership who wanted to improve their already great image.
The job in itself was easy, Johnny was to take the new pics for their website and their ads. And, most importantly, they wanted to create some sort of documentary.
Johnny didn’t know the details yet, he’d only be tasked to take the pictures once the text was written. But they had hired him for six weeks, paying him a hefty sum of money for a job that wouldn’t require his full time presence on site.
He sure wasn’t going to complain about it.
“Guys, come on, gather up !”
Linda was his guide. The amazing lady that had welcomed him for his first day at the place, who had shown him around the dealership, introduced him to the staff. She knew them all by first name and had implied that being a little familiar with people was almost demanded, that they were a family here, that the majority of the team had been working together for years.
Johnny was wary of it, preferring to stay as proper as he could be for the time being. Not wanting to appear too confident. Or maybe that was the last decade or so talking for him, reminding him that the nicest drill sergeant could be the worst shithead one could think of behind your back.
“This is John,” Linda said as a dozen or so of men and women had gathered. They all wore similar overalls, stained with oil and dirt and liquids Johnny couldn’t recognize, the dealership’s logo at the back. “He’ll be here with us for a few weeks, as we discussed during our last meeting. He’ll be taking pictures and … Wait. Where is Ghost ?”
As if in answer, some drill started ringing from across the workshop. Johnny frowned.
What kind of name was Ghost ?
“I’ll go get him.”
“Thanks, Roach.”
What kind of name was Roach??
But Johnny said nothing as a tall guy with messy brown hair and scars on the side of his face started to walk towards the noise all the while the other people around them stepped closer to welcome him in the team, with big smiles and some pats on the shoulder.
Roach returned after a couple of minutes. And if Johnny had found the man tall, it was nothing compared with Ghost, if Ghost was the man following after him.
Because then, Ghost would be a giant. A tall bastard with wide shoulders and a bulky frame, his company overalls doing nothing to hide the muscles straining underneath his sleeves. His hands were black with whatever he had been working on, his work clothes showing clear signs of abuse. And half his face was hidden under a neck gaiter, a skull pattern painted on the black fabric.
Johnny had met his fair share of scary fuckers during his career in the SAS. Enemies and friendlies alike. He wasn’t sure he had ever met someone quite like Ghost before.
Fuck, that guy was impressive.
“There you are,” Linda welcomed Ghost with a warm smile and a soft nod. It didn’t seem to affect Ghost, the frown on his brow didn’t bulge but unlike what his expression could have predicted, he didn’t snap at her, he merely stood there, waiting. Obviously eager to go back to work. “As I was saying, John here is going to spend a few weeks with us. He will take pictures for our documentary too, you might see him wander around the shop. You can ask him not to take pictures of yourself if you don’t feel comfortable with them,” she added, pointedly looking at Ghost. “As we discussed during our last meeting.”
Only then, did Ghost seem to notice him and Johnny found himself trapped once honey brown eyes settled on him.
The air was knocked out of his lungs then. From Ghost’s stare, from how unsettling it was to be looked at this way. Again, Johnny was a vet and had faced worse enemies than a mechanic in a good dealership in the outskirts of London, he had faced fuckers that would have killed him without as much as a blink, hadn’t he been the one to shoot first.
But here and then, Johnny found himself unable to react, unable to do anything but stare back. Wondering why his knees felt weak and painfully aware that it had nothing to do with his injury.
Fuck.
Ghost was ..
“Any question, John ?”
Linda’s sweet voice startled him out of the moment and Johnny became painfully aware of how rude and weird this might have been. He blinked, several times, like awoken from a strange dream and he forced a smile as he looked at her.
“I don't think so,” he answered and hated how weak his voice sounded to his own ears. “Thank you for the tour.”
“Of course. Don’t hesitate to look around, make yourself comfortable with the place. And if you have any questions, I'm available to answer them.”
Johnny smiled, touched with the warm welcome and Linda nodded one last time before she was leaving his side, heading back towards her office.
He couldn't help it, as he looked back at Ghost. Tried to anyways, because the man was already gone, disappeared as quickly as his namesake, nowhere to be seen anymore.
“John, was it ?” A soft voice caught his attention, before he could crane his neck to try and find where Ghost might have gone. Johnny turned around and was met with Roach’s soft green eyes looking down at him. “I'm Gary, but you can call me Roach. Nice to meet you!”
“Call me Soap,” Johnny answered out of habit. He had been called by his call sign for so long that his own name sounded foreign to him. His mother kept pestering him about it.
Johnny just couldn't shake it off.
It did make Gary, Roach, snort. Johnny raised an eyebrow at him, because his nickname wasn't any better and Roach snorted.
“Touché,” he nodded and he glanced at him again. “So, you're the photographer, then ?”
“I am.”
“I’m sure you'll fit right in,” Roach said with a little nod. “Want me to introduce you to the team ?”
Roach, Johnny realized after a minute or two, was as sociable as he was. Easygoing, laid-back, obviously comfortable and well liked in the team. People smiled when they approached, laughed at his jokes, their shoulders relaxed. It was funny how little the man needed to make people untense, but Johnny found himself feeling the effects of Roach's charm easily enough as well.
Yeah, Johnny hadn’t planned on making friends, not really. He was there for six weeks only, it sure wasn't long enough for him to create strong bonds but the more time he spent by Roach’s side, with the man introducing him to the mechanics, the more he wondered if it was even possible for a friendship to begin so easily.
Or maybe his brain was fucked after years in the military, where you were forced to rely on the next soldier to make it out alive. But Johnny had never been wrong about who to trust and who to avoid and his gut feeling about Roach was quite clear.
The man was to be trusted.
Johnny couldn’t help but notice, though, the moment Roach's energy dimed. It wasn’t by much, he still kept his smile but the way he moved was different then. Like he was trying to approach a wild animal and not spook it and Johnny realized why when he recognized the messy blonde hair half hidden under a car's hood, along with an unmistakable bulky frame.
“Hey, Ghost,” Roach called gently, stopping a few steps away and keeping his attitude neutral. “Got Soap with me, showing him around the shop. Wanna tell him what you’re working on ?”
“Who the fuck is Soap ?”
Ghost didn't look up, didn't straighten. Remained working on the engine of the car at his station.
“John ? The new guy ?”
Ghost huffed.
“What kind of name is Soap ?”
This time, he straightened. After one last spin of whatever tool he had been using that was. He did check his work, fingers tugging at this or that thing before he was turning around and glaring at Roach.
But then, he was looking at Johnny again and Johnny tilted his head to the side.
Again, he had faced worse than a grumpy mechanic in a fancy dealership in London. And as impressive as Ghost might be…
“What kind of name is Ghost ?” He retorted, doing his best not to smirk and probably failing, seeing the way Ghost's eyes flickered to his lips.
“Don’t want my face in pictures,” Ghost stated, not answering his quip. “Hands and body are fine.”
“Noted.”
“Oh, Ghostie! You’re so handsome, you should ..”
“Fuck off, Roach,” Ghost interrupted Roach's teasing with a groan and another glare.
It made Roach snort.
Johnny did his best not to laugh.
It was obvious how close these two were. They were friends and Johnny couldn't help but wonder for how long they had known each other. Roach was comfortable despite Ghost's apparent coldness, used to his antics, he knew how to handle him, how to tease him without making him retract behind a shell of coldness.
It made him curious, in a way, made him wonder how they had come to work together, he knew some companies didn’t like to hire people who were too close to each other in fear it might alter their performances.
Not here, it seemed.
“Are we done ? Still need to figure out why the clutch drops for no reason at random times.”
Johnny blinked. He had no idea what any of Ghost had just said meant, no fucking clue and he must have looked it because Roach snorted, patting his shoulder.
“Maybe Soap could stay and watch you work ? I’m sure he’ll ..”
Ghost’s glare was enough to silence Roach before he could finish his sentence and his glare did have a hint of “why me?” hidden under a thick layer of “leave me alone”.
It made Roach roll his eyes.
“Fine,” he relented dramatically, rolling his eyes. “You stay brooding like a teenager and I'll keep Soap with me.”
But Ghost wasn’t listening anymore already, back to work as he walked around the car to attain the buttons laid on his working table and start to lift the car.
The walk to Roach's station was silent. Almost awkward and Johnny couldn't help but wonder what he might have done wrong. Not that he had done anything besides teasing the man but maybe it had been too much already. Maybe he had pushed back too fast but, then again, it wasn't like Ghost intimidated him in any way. Sure, the man was big and dark and all that but .. he was just a mechanic in some fancy dealership in London.
“Ah, sorry about Ghost,” Roach interrupted his thoughts as they reached the car he was working on, an obviously expensive thing, not that Johnny had any idea what brand or model it was. “He’s not that bad, just hard to approach.”
Johnny hummed. He wasn’t hurt or put off.
“It’s the idea of pictures that makes him pissy. Doesn’t like to show his face, especially since ..,” but Roach seemed to remember himself, interrupting his sentence before he could finish it. “He’ll warm up to you in no time. Until then, you’re free to bother me with any question you might have, I love talking while I work.”
And talk they did. God, Johnny wasn’t stupid, he knew he was a chatterbox, had been told to shut up more often than not and his propensity to talk too much had landed his ass in detention, back in school, more times than he could count. The army hadn't changed that about him either, with him discussing orders when he knew they were wrong and stupid and more than one of his superiors had complained about it, and tried to shut him down, some harsher than others.
That had been until he had joined the 141. Until Price had taken him under his wing and made him the best soldier he could have ever been, managing his energy and channeling it into what he needed to do. Price had been an amazing Captain and an even better father figure, filling out the void his absent father had left when he had decided that kids weren't his thing.
Honestly, Johnny couldn’t even remember the man and he was aware he had turned out fine without him. He also was glad to have Price in his life instead, knowing full well that he’d give everything for the man to stay in his life a while longer.
He wasn’t sure it'd be possible now. Not with his discharge. Not with how silent his text conversation with the man has been for the past few weeks.
Johnny did his best to cling to the thought that Price and the team probably were deployed and didn’t have the time to answer his messages.
He did his best not to think about the worst case scenario.
Until then, well. He only had to keep the faith and keep on going.
Roach distracted him from his thoughts easily enough though. With how he explained what he currently was working on, keeping the lingo easy for him to understand, as if aware that Johnny knew nothing about cars. It probably was obvious as fuck, if Johnny had to be honest about it but cars had never really been his things. He didn't own one, the bus would take him anywhere he needed to be in the city and he could rent one if he truly needed it.
He just couldn't be bothered with them.
But listening to Roach talk was nice still. Hearing the passion in his tone, how happy he was to share his knowledge. Asking him to join him under the car once it was lifted to show him this or that problem he had to fix, letting Johnny know that he could take pics if he wanted to.
And Johnny did, mostly to get used to angles he had never taken pictures from before. Knowing he might be comfortable with them, to take the pictures that'd go with the documentary. He wasn’t sure about the details, and had been told that he’d be given the text as soon as it was finished, that he then would have to figure out how to illustrate it. It was a bit of a stretch, not exactly his specialty but … well. They paid good money for it.
“How long will you be around ?”
Roach was apparently done with the car now, rubbing his hands on a not so clean towel to take most of the grime off. He had already lowered the car to the floor again, had turned the engine on and let it run, its rumbling low in idle next to them. Johnny hummed.
“Six weeks,” he said with a quick nod.
“And you’ll be on site for all that time ?”
“I’m not obligated to. There’s a lot of editing to do, once the pictures are taken, I'll probably work from home then.”
Roach hesitated a split second only before he smiled again.
“We have a desk in the back. I'm sure you could use it. If you don’t mind the noise, that is.”
The offer was .. strange, to say the least. Uncalled for. Unexpected. Johnny wasn't sure where it was coming from, he wasn't sure he was even allowed. Sure, he was a temp worker for the dealership now, part of the team but in the end, he was just that : temporary. Surely, he couldn't just settle anywhere he wanted.
“I’ll ask Linda, I'm sure she'll agree to it.”
Roach was unsettling with the offer but then again, the man had been nothing but friendly with him, nothing but comfortable. Was it his very own way to make him feel welcomed here ?
“I don’t mind the noise,” Johnny admitted after a beat, scratching the back of his head. “On the contrary.”
One of the things that had disturbed him the most, since leaving base, was how silent everything was. He thought he was going mad, the first few nights in his flat, when his neighbors settled to sleep and all he could hear was the beating of his own heart and the blood in his ears. It had been too much and not enough at the same time. Overwhelmed with the silence and underwhelmed, his mind racing from one thought to the next, to the point of making him dizzy.
He had almost broken down then.
Almost.
All he had needed had been a call to Price and knowing the man would stay on the phone with him the whole night if he needed to.
Roach smiled.
“I’ll finish up with that beauty and go see Linda then. Wanna ride her with me while I take her out ?”
Johnny felt so out of place, riding the passenger seat of a luxury car, that he refused to sit in the next car Roach brought inside the workshop and went by foot.
But when Roach started to ramble about what he was supposed to do with that one, his mind settled again and Johnny found himself listening more intently than before.
And maybe, just maybe, his first day at his new work place couldn’t have gone any better.
He was drained, though, when he went home that night. Dead on his feet, uncharacteristically, his limp worse than before for having been standing this whole time, finding himself unable to leave Roach’s side as he watched him work.
Yet, he had refused when Roach had offered to find him a stool to sit on, his stubbornness getting the best of him and he was now paying the price for it.
His leg was stiff, his muscles aching and spasming, cramping in the worst of ways and Johnny stumbled ungracefully to his couch to finally, finally be able to sit down for the first time of the day.
“Fuck..”
It wasn’t always that bad. It was when he pushed too hard on it, when he stood for too long but he usually was fine enough.
The pain did make him eye the cane he was supposed to use daily but couldn’t be bothered with. Out of stubbornness or pride, he couldn't say. A mix of the two most likely, his mind reeling everytime he gave it a thought but painfully aware that he might be forced to use it at some point. Maybe even tomorrow, seeing the state he currently was in, hating the idea of showing himself to be so weak, hating having to rely on something like that.
He was stronger than that, after all. Youngest soldier to ever pass the SAS selections, demo expert, sniper, a fucking force to be reckoned with. He had been sent solo to active warzones, carried out missions only he could achieve and returned without so much of a scratch.
All it had needed was a mine going off at an odd timing to almost take him out, to damage his leg so badly he had to be dragged out like a corpse.
“Lucky” they had said he had been. Lucky to still have his leg, to still be able to walk. Lucky enough to have avoided being stuck to a wheelchair for the rest of his life and if he had, Johnny wasn’t sure what he would have done, to avoid that kind of fate.
God, he didn't want to think about it.
But the cane was taunting him, standing half hidden in a corner where he had left it and he knew he wouldn't have any other choice tomorrow. Knew he'd have to use it if he wanted to show up, as promised, and start with the website’s pictures. It was simple work, nothing that asked any talent, they would be generic as fuck. But he was paid for them and he’d be damned before he did a half assed job with them.
He already could feel the lingering eyes, though. The ones that made his skin crawl, as they were silently asking why a man in his early thirties would need a cane for. He could already see the pity and hear people coax him to sit down on the bus, offering up their seat like he was two seconds away from collapsing, like he still wasn’t strong enough to snap their neck with his own bare hands.
Maybe it was the part he hated the most about his whole situation. Not feeling weak but .. people thinking he needed help or their pity.
It was in moments like these ones when the tat on his forearm burned. The emblem inked into his skin forever, like a painful reminder of how short his run was in the end.
He probably should have it covered up.
It wouldn’t take the burn away but, at least, he wouldn't have to look at it anymore.
It was his phone chiming with a new text that pulled him out of his downward spiral. He had been so deep into it that he barely heard the notification. But he did and his heart leapt into his chest when he read the preview on his locked screen.
The name itself was enough to put a smile on his lips.
“Back on British soil, sorry for going dark without a word. How are things ? First day today, wasn’t it ?”
Johnny could have cried. He didn't, certainly not, he only wiped some imaginative dirt on his face with the back of his sleeve and he started typing his answer.
He was interrupted with an incoming call, to which he answered immediately, his entire body relaxing at the familiar buzz and the rumbling tone of his former Captain asking him to debrief his day like it was an important mission.
And if they stayed on the phone all night and Johnny wiped more dirt off his face after admitting how painful his leg was, how he didn’t want to use the cane, well. There were no witnesses to bear his weakness anyways.
The bus ride hadn't been too bad. Mostly because there had been plenty of empty seats, enough for him to settle without having to force someone to stand and Johnny had done his best to tuck the cane out of view then.
How Price had convinced him to use it today, he had no fucking clue. But one moment he was yelling, frustrated, about how he didn’t want to, and the next, he was agreeing to it.
Price had always had that sort of power over him, one Johnny never took the time to analyze. He was aware that the man had abused it before, mostly for his own sake and Johnny was grateful for it but it didn’t make it easier to accept it. It just made him feel like a child scolded by a father that wasn’t even ten years older than he was.
God it made him feel like an idiot.
But the cane helped. Johnny could already feel it, he could already feel the pain fade, helped with the meds he had taken in the morning, and the bath he had indulged with the previous evening, coaxed, again, by Price.
It made him wonder, always, why Price cared so much for a former soldier, why he didn't seem to want to let go of him but sometimes, his brain provided answers he wasn't comfortable with, the main one being guilt. Being that Price felt responsible for what had happened and wanted to make up for it.
As if he had been the one to set the mine off.
But he wasn’t and Johnny knew they'd have to discuss it someday. Later though. Because even a year later, it still felt too fresh in his mind to address it.
He had expected it but Johnny still felt a little overwhelmed with how warmly everybody welcomed him at the dealership. Maybe it was because he still felt a little soft from the previous evening, or maybe it was because he easily noticed the curious glances to his cane but the obvious nonchalant way it was taken in, as if accepted without question. Sure, they all noticed his limp the previous day, it was hard to miss after all but it didn’t mean much, in his eyes.
He could have just sprained his ankle or something like that. The cane made it more permanent. No one used a cane just for a sprained ankle.
But he received no question about it and Johnny continued his way towards the workshop, intent on making a good impression on the whole team. And to be meeting with Roach again, with how comfortable they had been with each other the previous day, without anyone trying to remind him that he wasn’t paid to chat with the mechanic, not even when one of the higher ups had come to ask him how his first day had been.
“Soap!”
Roach’s easy and cheerful greeting had Johnny smile as he approached. His steps didn’t falter when he realized that Ghost was standing near the other, quick to pull his gaiter back up his nose, before Johnny could see the rest of his face.
He didn't look annoyed with it, though. Only a little more tense.
“Tea ? Coffee ?”
“Coffee,” Johnny answered gratefully. He hadn't slept much after all, and had spent most of the night on the phone with Price. Not that he regretted it.
“Don’t forget.”
Ghost’s gruff words were all he said before he turned around and headed to his station to start with today's work. Roach huffed.
“We’ll be working together on a difficult task today, if you want to watch. He won’t mind,” he added after a pause, as if sensing Johnny’s hesitation.
“Thank you but with today’s weather, I'd rather take some shots of the facade. The light is quite good.”
“Sure,” Roach nodded, obviously comfortable, a small smile on his lips. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need help.”
And for the first time in a long time, Johnny felt like being offered help like that had nothing to do with his injury and everything to do with Roach’s kind personality.