Chapter Text
Ghost, Price, and Gaz skulked into the basement. The air was murky with the scent of blood and sweat. Sweeping the large open room, "Clear!" Gaz called to the other two.
"He's gotta be in one of these." Price murmured, walking swiftly over to the cells lining the far wall. Inside the cells, cuffed chains were bolted to the walls. Blood stained the concrete walls and rusted the metal bars, some sort of torture chamber for sure.
"There!" Ghost jogged over to the cell in the furthest corner, Price followed, while Gaz stayed guard on the door. And there, chained to the wall in the cell, laid Sergeant MacTavish. "Soap!" No response. "Johnny!" Still nothing, the man was out cold, maybe even dead. With the wounds coating his skin, it'd be surprising if he wasn't. Fuck.
Ghost rammed the cell door, it didn't budge. Again, and again, and again. Rage and fear overtook his mind. Irrational.
Nowadays, whenever it comes to anything Soap, he would be irrational. Ghost needed the man, like a person needs water. The only calming solace he had in his mad, chaotic life. When he was with Johnny, he'd forget all of the dog awful shit he's been through, and just get to live peacefully for a moment.
Then the next moment they were thrust into a mission, culling some feral werewolves that a terrorist group had control of, and trying to get to the root of that whole operation. And somehow, between all the fur and blood, John MacTavish had been captured and taken prisoner.
That was a week ago.
A week.
When the three had stormed this warehouse only an hour ago, Soap's chance of still being alive was well overdue. He wasn't going to give up any information through whatever torture they put him through, Ghost knew that he wouldn't crack. So why would they bother keeping him around?
"Ghost, calm it." Price's stern voice broke Ghost from his stupor. He gently pushed the other man aside, and with a precise hit with the butt of his gun, the lock popped. "Christ, has all your experience gone out the bloody window?" Price huffed as he walked into the cell, crouching by Soap's body.
And Ghost just stood there, frozen. So close, yet so far. There was a chance Soap could be alive. But it was low. If he was dead, Ghost wouldn't know what to do with himself anymore.
"He's alive, Simon, just unconscious." Price said, checking over the damage on the body laying in front of him. "Call in exfil, we need to get him straight to medical."
Ghost let out a curt sigh of relief before his hand moved to his comms as Price snipped the chains. "Watcher, this is Bravo 0-7. 7-1 is secured, requesting exfil."
"Copy, 0-7. A bird will be at the RV in 25." Laswell responded over the radio.
Ghost finally walked into the cell. "Wake him up?" He looks to Price.
"Tried, he'll be out for a long while. Best to let him rest up anyways." Price stood.
"Affirm." And without another word, Ghost picked up Soap with ease, holding him over his shoulder. I got you now, sweet'art. Safe. He tried to keep his anxieties at bay. Right now, they just needed to make sure they got back to base, all four of them this time.
They made their way out of the building, Price and Gaz checking every corner while Ghost carried Soap through. They were fairly sure they had taken down the few guards on the way in, but they were still on alert.
It had been suspicious, how few guards were stationed around this place. No backup called in either. Honestly, bar the lacklustre guards, the place seemed recently abandoned.
Ghost didn't want to think much of it right now, he just wanted to get back with Johnny intact.
When they finally made it to the RV point without a hitch, Soap was gently moved to lay down in the chopper. Price hopped in after, going straight for the med kit and back to Soap. Wanting to patch up his injuries the best he could while on the way back to base.
Ghost, however, now on the final stretch back home, his mind started to stew. Were we too late? Will he survive the journey back? We know they're turning people, making more werewolves, is he even still human? They didn't know the intricacies of this operation yet, how and why there were mass turning people into wolves. Would they even bother turning prisoners?
His attention was drawn when Price got up to mumble something to Gaz, they both gave him a look. Sympathy? Shock? Something along those lines. He tilted his head in response, his eyes squinting. "What?" He grunted.
"Simon," Price started. "it's Soap, he.."
Ghost was instantly tence hearing his name in that tone, expecting the worst.
"His eyes are orange." Price glanced down at Soap as he spoke. The Scott was still unconscious on the floor, now with a few bandages and gauze covering his torso. Rough work, but it'd do until they got back to base.
But with those four words, Ghost near enough broke. It confirmed his anxieties. His captors had turned Soap into a werewolf. He didn't look like one, though. Didn't have the usual features they'd have in human form. Bar the eyes, apparently.
Ghost didn't realise how tight his fists were clenched until it hurt. He slowly eased his hands open, taking slow breaths in an attempt to calm his growing anger.
"I don't see any bites on him, though." Gaz spoke up.
"That's a myth, son." Price responded. "To turn into a werewolf, you have to drink the blood of one."
Was this some sort of sick joke? At least he's alive. At least he's still here. But he's different now.
Ghost didn't really like humans much, let alone supernaturals. Didn't know much about them, didn't need to unless he knew he would encounter some during a mission. The perks of being on a taskforce with only other humans. If he were being honest with himself, he'd say he was scared of what Soap had become. How different he would be now. Would he even be that much different? Ghost didn't know, so that did indeed scare him. And that fear, as usual, turned to anger.
So he sat, stewing in his mind for the remainder of the journey home.
-
When they landed, Soap was quickly whisked away to medical. While the other three went straight to Price's office for debrief.
Price wanted Ghost to stay after. "Look, Simon, I know you and John have .. whatever going on. But he'll need time to adjust to this."
Ghost didn't respond, just glaring at the other. Soap and himself were an open secret between the team. They never confirmed their relationship to the others, but everyone knew anyway, it was easy for them to tell. Especially for Price. But as long as my boys are happy and it doesn't effect you in the field, I don't care what you do behind closed doors. Price wasn't entirely happy with his Lieutenant and his Sargent being together, given their ranks. But he couldn't really say much, having had fooled around with subordinates before. As long as no one higher up found out, it'd be fine.
"We'll..." He sighed. "We'll have to keep close tabs on him, maybe even restrain him if he hasn't shifted yet. And we won't be able to take him on the field for a while."
"Since when did you so know much about wolves?" Ghost spoke bluntly.
"I don't know that much. But I've worked with some before; well, pure wolves. I've never had a new blood under my wing." He paused to light a cigar. "I'll get someone in from the centre to tell us what we need to know. And a handler for training. For now, let the medics do their thing, and we'll keep you updated."
"I can't go and see him?"
"I know you will regardless. The med team might pipe up about it, though." Price chuckled.
"We done 'ere?" Ghost grunted.
"Yeah, dismissed. We'll have a meeting in a few days when we get a wolf expert in."
Ghost nodded as he stood, before swiftly exiting the office.
He didn't go and see Johnny straight away. He didn't want to. He needed to be alone for a while, to think everything through.
So, with almost everyone being asleep at this late hour, he decided to hit the gym. Taking some anger out on a punching bag would help.
-
The next few days for Ghost were eerily quiet without Soap's near constant precence at his side. He would visit Soap a few times a day, sitting by his side in silence while he slept doped up on painkillers.
The doctors had told him that MacTavish had two fractured ribs, a shattered hand, and a plethora of cuts, bruises, and burns. Thankfully nothing life threatening.
When he wasn't visiting Soap, Ghost would busy himself with paperwork or working out. Going to the gym in the late hours of the night to avoid everyone else as usual.
That was until on his way back from the gym one night, he heard screaming. Coming from the med bay. What? ... ... Soap!! He ran over to the commotion. Bursting though the doors to see Soap atop one of the doctors, pinning them to the floor. "Ye think ye can jus' stick that thing in me?!" Soap sounded near feral, snarling his words.
"Stand down, MacTavish!" Ghost's voice boomed through the room, but the other man didn't seem to register it. Soap was now raising his arm to punch the doctor. But Ghost was quicker. He zoomed over and grabbed Soap by the wrists, hauling him up and restraining him against himself. One arm keeping both of Soap's arms behind his back, and his forearm across his chest, pinning his back to Ghost's front. "Fuckin' 'ell, Soap. What the fuck are ya doin'?!"
Soap writhed against the larger man, snarling. Suprising mobility for someone who had broken ribs and a shattered hand a few days ago. Ghost held tight restraining him while the doctor got up and ran out of the room. "Johnny." Ghost spoke softer now. "Settle down, com'on."
It took a while, but Soap finally calmed a bit, stopping his struggles. He craned his head back to look at Ghost, his eyes a fierce orange.
"Soap.." Gost said. He hadn't seen him awake since they got back, hadn't seen his eyes. And acting out like this, attacking a medic, that wasn't something Soap would usually do. If ever. "The hell's gotten into ya, huh?"
"They were stickin' a feckin' needle in me!" Soap spat.
"Yeah, that's their job. You're injured, Johnny, they're lookin' after ya." He spoke as if Soap didn't understand the concept of a doctor. "Was probably just some pain meds, ya've been on the good stuff for a while."
"Don't feel injured, LT." Soap tried to pull away from the other man, but Ghost's arms were wrapped around him tight. "Jus' a bangin' headache. Lemme go."
"No."
"Why?" Soap perked his head up a bit, feeling the brick of a man behind him. "What, wanna have some fun now ya have me back?" Ghost could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Jesus, Johnny, no. Fuckin' calm it. You're meant to be recovering, and.." Ghost trailed off, not able to bring himself to say it.
"And..?" Soap grumbled.
"You're... You're a-"
"Right, what the fuck is going on here?!" Price's shouting snapped both men to attention. Soap glared at him with a snarl, still confined in Ghost's grip. Neither responded. "'Cause Dr. Peters just came running into my office at this godforsaken hour saying they'd been attacked by their patient."
After a beat, Ghost spoke up. "Affirmative. I heard screaming, came in to find Soap about to beat the shit outta doc."
"Jesus wept. Look I ain't dealing with this now. Soap, with me, spending the night in the lockup."
"What the fuck?! Why?" Soap snarled again, trying to pull away from Ghost.
"Because, Soap, you just attacked a doctor. Regardless, with your .. condition you're unpredictable. So for the safety of everyone on this base, I'd rather you stay where you can't hurt anyone. Or, we'll just sedate you." Price spoke sternly, but Ghost could tell it hurt the man to do this.
"What condition..?" Soap stilled his struggling again.
"Just come with me and we'll have a chat about it in the mornin'. Copy?"
Ghost leant down to Soap's ear. "Better do as 'e says, Johnny." He mumbled.
It was silent for a minute or two. "... Copy." Soap sighed eventually, the fight leaving him. Ghost dropped his arms, freeing the other.
Price grabbed Soap's shoulder and pushed him along. "Alright, on me, no fuckin' attacking anyone else, or I swear to god I'll-" He stopped as Ghost stepped in line behind them. "No, Simon, you get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow."
So he stopped with a huff, watching them as they walked off towards the cells. When they were out of sight, he made his way back to his bunk.
Soap could be quick to anger enough as it was, but this was just so ... well, not like Soap. If he ended up being like this all the time, Ghost wasn't sure of he could let him stay on the team. Hopefully this was just a one off. Waking up somewhere after being tortured for a week is confusing as hell. Dunno where you are, what's happening to you, if you're even safe. That calms him a bit, seeing this as a defensive response. Probably thought he still had to fight for his life before he saw Ghost.
Ghost couldn't get much sleep that night, the image of Soap's wild eyes printed in his brain.
-
Ghost haulded himself out of bed when the first rays of sunlight seaped through his window. Going through his usual routine before getting called into Price's office in the early afternoon.
"Hey there!" A cheery voice greeted him as he entered the office. The voice belonged to a short satyr who had stood from her seat, holding her hand out to Ghost. Her long brown hair split on the top of her head by two little horns. Goat like legs stood under her skirt.
"Ghost, this is Dr. Sarah Clark. She's joined us from the Hereford Supernatural Center." Price stated from behind his desk, a cigar in his hand. Ghost said nothing and sat down.
"Okay.." Dr. Clark's hand dropped to her side and returned down to her seat. "So, I've informed the Captain about everything he needs to know on the subject matter, but I wanted to speak to you directly. I have been told that you're close with Mr MacTavish?"
Ghost shot a punishing glare at Price before looking back to Clark. "He's my Sergeant."
"Well, uh, yes. Mr MacTavish has been turned into a werewolf, as you know. From the blood tests I received from your medical team, we suspect he was only fed the blood a few day or so prior to his extraction. In this stage, he'll be more relying on primal instincts. I've been told he's been aggressive to members of staff, is that correct?"
"Yes." Ghost grunted. He's decided that he doesn't like this woman. Her voice is way too upbeat for the situation. His partner has changed, this isn't a thing to be all giddy about.
"His emotions should even out after his first transformation on the next full moon. Along with any injuries he has getting near fully healed." She smiled at him.
"So he'll be the same? Just with the monthly wolf thing?"
"Not exactly.." She flinched a bit at the look she received from Ghost. "He'll basically be the same, don't worry! Just a few more canine like mannerisms and such. It'll take him a while to get a hold of his instincts even after his first shift. Oh, and he'd need retraining to get used to the way his body works. The Captain has called in a military trained handler to deal with Mr. MacTavish through that process."
Not every supernatural needed a handler, only really the shifter and hybrid types. Just in case they got a bit too deep in their animal instincts and needed someone to keep them in check. In the past, Ghost had compared them to attack dogs needing a tight leash. He wouldn't dare think that now. Well, unless Soap would enjoy it, of course.
Clark chirped on about more about werewolves. How they need more consideration, how their shifts work, the dangers of it all. Learning more about it did put Ghost's mind at ease for a bit. Refused to show it, though. His stone cold eyes still boring holes into Clark's skull.
She pauses her yammering to rummage though her shoulder bag, pulling out a booklet. "The next full moon is only in a few days, in the meantime I suggest you read through this. Everything we've gone through and more, but in much more detail."
Ghost takes the book. "An information booklet, really? Why aren't these just given to us during training?"
"Uh, well, with the majority of the population being humans... I mean, there's a lot of types of supernaturals that we'd have to get through. We have started providing detailed information about the most common supernaturals, though. It's actually rather intresting-"
"You're rambling." Ghost muttered. This woman seemed anxious in his presence. Good.
"Sorry." She shook her head. "I know a change like this can be hard on everyone involved. But trust me, it's nothing compared to what he's going though. He's still the same person, just give him time to get used to his new being. I hope you and your team will provide the support he needs, on top of the handler thats coming in." Clark closed her bag and looked to Price, obviously uncomfortable under Ghost's lingering gaze. "I can come back in after his first shift to check in on him if you'd like?"
"We'll call if we need you." Ghost responded before Price could speak. "We done here?" He looked to Price, receiving a small nod. Ghost quickly got up and left the office, near slamming the door behind him.
He didn't need to be treated as if he were a child with a fragile animal. And, damn, he hated her voice. Johnny would be the same but a little bit different? How the fuck is that supposed to make sense? And Price too, telling this woman about his relationship with Soap. Christ, he'd murder for a whiskey right now. If they had only gotten to Soap sooner, none of this would be happening. Why was he the only captive in the base with barely any guards about anyway?
It all kept repeating in his head. Slowly getting angrier and angrier. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts this time. He, strangely, wanted comfort. *Bloody Johnny, makin' me soft.* And his only comfort was Soap. But Soap might not be Soap anymore. Apparently.
And the cycle in his head repeats.
But he finds himself walking over to the cellblock anyways.
-
The cells were rarely used. They almost never held prisoners on base, usually on an offsite facility instead.
Ghost supposed they would come in handy now they had a werewolf to deal with at least once a month. Not just a werewolf, it's Johnny.
"Ghost.. That you?" He heard Soap before he even got to the cell door.
"How'd you know it was me, Johnny?" He felt a grin on his lips under his balaclava as he heard his partner.
"Could smell ye." Soap chuckled, already at the door when Ghost got there. His eyes were now more blue, with only a ring of orange around his pupils. Ghost was so damn relived to see that peircing blue again. Like a calming ocean. His eyes then raked over to all the cuts and bandages littering Johnny's body.
"You seem better today. How ya feelin'?" Ghost spoke, his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.
"Shite." Soap huffs. "Head's killin' me."
"That it?" It was odd at how calm Soap seemed, given his state last night.
"'Side from the obvious. Week of torture. Werewolf... I don't even remember jumping Peters, I didn't mean tae-" Soap's gaze dropped to the floor.
Ghost didn't respond, still standing a few feet away from the door. Still not really knowing how he feels about this whole situation.
Soap breaks the short silence. "Simon, please. I need you." His voice was small.
"Soap, I.." Ghost sighed, hesitating before stepping towards the barred door. He rested his forehead against Soap's. Soap brought his hands through the bars to rest on Ghost's sides. "This is my fault.. I shoulda found you sooner. Should have-"
"Ain't on ye, darlin'." Soap smiled, bringing his hands up to hold Simon's face. "Ain't on any o' ye. 'S on them terrorist cunts."
"How... How bad was it in there?" He didn't want to ask, but he needed to know.
Soap's hands dropped to his sides and he took a step back. "Don't think I should get int' it now, aye. Dinnae wanna get all angry again." He shrugs. "That doctor lady said it'd be better after the first shift, but.. I'm scared, Simon."
"Johnny.."
"She said it'd hurt, like a lot. And-"
"She's annoying. Piss cheery voice." Ghost interrupted in attempt to break Soap from his thoughts.
"Aye, actually hurt me ears." The Scott chuckled and moved back to hold Ghost through the bars of the door. "'Least me senses are better. Won't be able tae sneak up on me anymore, I'll smell ye."
"Suppose so, Johnny." Ghost's eyes squinted with a smile.
The two stood in a comfortable silence for a while, just holding eachother. Despite everything, it felt so good to have Johnny in his arms again. Even with the bars of the cell door between them. Simon would stay with him if it meant Johnny stayed calm like this. Unfortunately for both of them, a Lieutenant has duties. Ghost gave Soap a gentle kiss on the forehead through his mask.
"I'll be back for ya soon, luv." Simon mumbled as he pulled away. "Got paperwork to sort, and a damn book to read. 'Parently they've got a handler coming in soon, so they'll probably come by t' talk to ya."
Soap looked up at him, fear flooding his eyes. "Dinnae go." He whimpered.
"I gotta. Jus' hold out 'till the moon. I know it's shit being in here, but it's only a few days."
"Stay." Soap growled, orange flooding the blue in his eyes. Ghost glared at him in return, his look matching Soap's sudden anger. "What's that look for, eh? Just want some fuckin' company while I'm stuck in this cage." Soap's voice was getting louder with each word. "Went from one cell tae a-feckin-nother!"
"Johnny, stop." Ghost demanded, trying to keep his voice calm but authoritative. "Look at ya. You rarely get this angry this fast, who knows what you might do with it. You know why you're in here, Price told you the drill. So just stay. A few more days. I fuckin' hate seeing you like this, but please."
Soap was glaring at Ghost as mulled his words over in his head. The silence between them was tense, looked like Soap would lash out at any second.
Ghost hared this. Hated the unknown that came with a wolf's emotions. Hated seeing Johnny like this, caged and angry. Or sad, or scared. Flickering though emotions like a broken light. But he knew it should, *would* even out after the full moon. Will just be back to regular Soap, just with some more wolfy aspects.
It seemed Soap was going though a similar train of thought. He eventually stepped back with a sigh, looking to the floor again.
"Aye. For you." He looked up at Ghost, the orange slowly fading from his eyes. "You'll come see me every day, though, aye?"
"Can't promise that, Johnny." Ghost sighed. "Got a lotta wolf shit t' learn now so we know how to deal with ya." He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood again.
Soap smiled, though it didnt reach his eyes. "Aye, well get going then before I flip out again, I guess." He lifted his hands and waved Ghost off with a shooing motion.
"Yeah, yeah. See ya soon, sweet'art." And with that, Ghost walked off, not looking back at Soap as he went.
Well, that was .. something. About to bite Ghost's head off one second, and the next he's all okay. Ish. Must be exhausting for him. Well, it is for both of them.
Ghost put it to the back of his mind for now, as much as he could, trying to focus on the task at hand.
Price had handed off all the paperwork regarding Soap's rescue mission, given the Captain now had to sort out all the measures to have a wolf on the team.
The paperwork took the rest of the day to fill out. Detailing the mission and Soap's injuries wasn't really what Ghost wanted to do. But the sooner it was over, the better. Honestly, this week had been a shitshow. Between rescuing Soap, finding out he'd been turned into a werewolf, dealing with Soap constantly being on an emotional roller coaster, and now recapping it all on paper.
Ghost just wanted to sleep.
-
By the time he had finished everything it was early evening. Time to call it for the night.
Ghost locked up his office and sauntered back to his room, before flopping down onto his bed. He let out a long sigh, already knowing it'd be another struggle to sleep without Johnny there next to him.
He absentmindedly put his hands in his pockets, finding the booklet from that satyr woman. Clara? Clark? Something like that. He opened up the booklet to flick through the pages. Types of wolf, full moons, shifting, temperament, diet, werewolf culture and religion, training, packs, ... mating cycles?
He sighed again. Bloody 'ell, this is a lot..
He found himself reading through the 'A Newblood's First Shift' section. As much as his feelings mixed on this whole situation, he wanted to know as much as he could, to support Johnny.