Chapter Text
The boys were back at it again.
This time, their jobs had taken them to a large mansion deep in the forests of Scotland. Soap was glad to be working in the land he remembered from his childhood. Ghost was honestly glad to see him in such a good mood. Ghost wasn't sure if the duo was actually the best for the job, or if Price just assigned them this mission to give Johnny a chance to see his old stomping grounds.
Either way, nothing they were doing was particularly new for them. Some Russian crime organization had set up a base of operations in Scotland for whatever reason. They just needed to get in and see about collecting any documents or intel regarding any possible connections to Makarov. The man seemed to have his hands everywhere, it was difficult to keep track of everything.
Their men would move in to clear the building, that way Ghost and Soap could focus on the intel gathering. Everything was going pretty normal. Pretty straightforward. But of course that couldn't last. This was them after all.
They picked their way through the halls of the large house. It was quite fancy honestly. These crime folks clearly doing well for themselves. They were doing their best to pick people off quietly. Made things easier on them, less gun fire that they would have to dodge. So, Ghost took the lead, driving blades into necks, ending people quickly and efficiently. They had looped through the massive house once already, and it didn't look like it contained a single piece of information.
Which meant somewhere there had to be a lot of it.
A place like this doesn't just have nothing in it. These people had clearly hidden it. Ghost was just starting to become frustrated when he turned around to find Soap dragging a massive rug to the side of the hall.
"Jackpot, LT." He said, looking down at the hatch he had revealed.
"Good work, Soap." Ghost told him as he leaned down to pull it open. It revealed an old rickety wooden staircase, a dimly lit room below. It had probably been a wine cellar once based on the shelves he could see. They carefully worked their way down the steps, weapons at the ready. They met no resistance.
The cellar was a veritable gold mine of information. Old files and papers littered the shelves. Soap let out a low whistle at the sight.
"What's our best course of action here, Ghost?" He asked, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of everything.
"As much as I'd like to, we don't have time to go through all of this." He gestured to the walls; his eyes landed on a very old computer on a little wooden table, "That'll have to do."
He crossed the room and got started on opening the computer up to remove the hard drive. Hopefully it had something useful on it at least. Soap crossed the room behind him, looking around the space. By the time Ghost had the drive secured, he realized he wasn't sure where the man had wandered off to. He was about to call out for him when he heard him yelp.
"Jesus calm down!"
Ghost swiftly rounded a nearby corner, gun raised. He froze at the sight in front of him. Soap was on his knees, in a headlock, a small pistol pressed firmly to his temple. His assailant had to have him on his knees for the headlock to work, as they were much shorter than him. By quite a bit for that matter. It was a girl. She appeared to be attached to the wall behind her by a chain around her neck. The floor of the space was covered in straw, as if she was some sort of livestock. She had quite the flash of ginger hair on her head, it was ragged and frizzy. Clearly overdue for a trim. She was obviously a kid, but Ghost had never been good at the age game so he couldn't place how old she was.
"Put your gun down." She practically growled. When he didn't move to do so, she shoved her pistol into Soap's head harder, "Now!"
"Easy there, Lass." Soap soothed, sounding incredibly calm for a man with a gun to his head, "We aren't here to hurtcha."
She didn't take her eyes off of Ghost, but he watched her brows furrow as Soap spoke.
"Who are you?" She demanded, "You're obviously not Russian."
"Neither are you." Ghost said, still keeping his weapon raised. She sounded somewhere between American and Scottish. Accent ebbing and flowing with the intensity of her speech.
"I'm Sergeant MacTavish and that's Lieutenant Riley. We're with British Special Forces." Soap explained calmly. "Ghost. It's alright. Put the gun down."
Ghost's eyes flicked to meet his for a moment. He didn't like how calm Johnny was about this, but after a moment he relented and lowered the gun to aim at the ground. The girl didn't relax, kept holding his gaze.
"I'm just gonna assume based on the fact that they have ya chained up down here, this isn't where you wanna be, yeah?" Soap asked, continuing to speak to her, "We'd like to help you if you'll let us."
Ghost watched her breathing falter a bit at his words.
"If ya just put the gun down, we can help you outta that chain there."
"I'm not giving you the gun!" She suddenly barked.
Soap shook his head against the barrel a bit, "You dinnae hafta hand it over. You can keep it, Lass. I promise we aren't gonna hurt ya."
For a second, no one moved. Ghost wasn't sure if Soap's words had convinced her or not, but then she pulled the gun away and removed her arms from around Johnny's throat, taking a couple quick steps back in case he tried to jump at her.
Soap slowly stood up and Ghost crossed the room to look him over. He looked fine, likely not even bruised. Even still he rubbed at his neck and chuckled, "Yer a strong wee one. Quite the grip you have there."
The girl didn't comment, only swallowed as she backed herself into the corner of the room.
"You alright, Johnny?" Ghost asked.
"Aye. I'm fine, Simon. Didn't expect there to be someone down here chained up. I startled her is all." He explained.
Ghost looked down at the hay strewn floor to see some small tools about. Soap must have tried to unlock her already. Soap leaned down and picked the tools back up and held them out so she could see.
"It alright if I come over and get that off of ya?" He gestured toward the metal around her neck. After a look of consideration, she nodded, and he slowly approached. He worked quickly, eager to get her out, and she complied, probably even more eager to be released. When it unlocked, he dropped it and it fell into some of the straw, muffling the sound.
"There you are, my dear." He gave her a happy smile that seemed to relax her a bit. Ghost was glad Johnny was here, he didn't think he would be very good at this on his own. Ghost was about to radio about exfil when they heard shouting coming from upstairs. More gunfire echoing above them.
"Shit!" He hissed, spinning around, and gunning down two enemies that had come down the stairs, "Sounds like these assholes have got back up!"
Soap angled himself in front of the girl, trying to block her view of the corpses even though she had just seen them killed anyway. "Are ya hurt anywhere?"
"I can run." She said simply, which wasn't really an answer to his question, but would have to do for now.
Ghost turned to face them, "Is there any way out from down here?" He didn't like their chances of getting out if they had to go back through the house based on all the gun fire they could hear.
She scanned his mask briefly before seeming to come to a decision and nodded. She moved forward and pointed out one of the shelves.
"There's a mechanism. But I don't know..." She trailed off, eyes frantically looking over the shelf and its contents. It was out of view from her place against the wall. The angle wrong, so she had never gotten a chance to see how it worked.
"That's fine!" Soap said, probably a little too cheerful. He pulled out a couple of little grenades and they all fell back behind the wall where she had once been chained. Soap held his hands over her ears so that they would be protected from the loud sound of the blast. His own were quite accustomed to the noise at this point. When the blast had finished and the dust had settled, they peeked back around to see the shelf utterly decimated but revealing a small opening behind it.
Beyond the opening was a metal ladder leading straight up from a hatch. They crossed back over to it, Soap going up first, then the girl, the Ghost. Ghost went last so that he could cover them as more reinforcements made their way into the cellar. The metal hatch creaked open, and climbing out, they found themselves at the edge of the property.
"We makin' it to exfil, LT?" Soap asked, although he already knew the answer.
"We'll contact Price. Exfil isn't secure. We weren't expecting them to send more men." He said anyway, he nodded toward a nearby fence, beyond it, the woods.
They hurried over, Soap helping to hoist the girl over it. She winced a bit when he did, but otherwise let herself be moved. Once they were all over, they ran into the forest. For a long while. The girl was fast. They both were willing to slow down for her, but they ended up having to push themselves to match her pace. She wasn't loaded down with heavy equipment like they were.
Once Ghost was satisfied with the distance, they had put between themselves and the mansion, he slowed to a walk. The walk was quiet. Only the sounds the dark forest to keep them company. The girl just trailed behind Ghost and in front of Soap. Based on how he had first seen her, Ghost hadn't expected her to be so cooperative, but he appreciated it, nonetheless.
One thing about Laswell, she always prepared safehouses nearby to their missions. She always made sure that if things went awry, they would have somewhere to go. Things often did go awry for them, so Ghost always studied her maps well. This time was no different. An eight-mile hike through the middle of nowhere forest in Scotland would get them to a place to stay for the night.
The quiet of the forest slowly became paired with a muffled chattering from behind him. Ghost glanced back to find the girl walking with her head down. She was clearly trying to conceal her shivers and quiet her chattering teeth. Ghost couldn't blame her. She was wearing a raggedy old, oversized t-shirt and a pair of ill-fitting jeans. Her bare arms were probably ice cold in the night air, and Ghost hadn't considered the fact that she wasn't wearing any shoes. She was probably getting cut up beyond belief. But she hadn't once complained. Clearly in survival mode, and unsure how trustworthy these two strange men were.
Soap caught his eyes and then he scanned the girl as well, frowning as he made the same observations Ghost had. Ghost stopped then, and the girl nearly crashed into him. She gave him a questioning look, but he went ahead and crouched down in front of her.
"Hop on my back."
"W-what?"
"We still have a ways to go yet. Safer for everyone involved if we just carry you the rest of the way there." He reasoned.
She pursed her lips, seeming unsure, but stepped forward and climbed on. She let out a strained grunt before he stood up and she seemed to settle against him a bit better. He gently held one of her arms that was clasped around his neck, feeling her lean her head against him. He felt a strange wave of protectiveness shoot through his gut that he quickly tamped down at the little smirk Soap gave him from his side.
Halfway through the rest of their walk, Soap traded so that he was carrying her. Ghost had handed her over a little reluctantly. When they made it to the safe house, Ghost did a thorough sweep of the inside and of the perimeter before he let the other two enter. It was basically just a shack. There was a small room with a bed, and a pullout couch in the main room. There was a sink and a toilet in what looked like a closet. There was a wood stove and that was it. But it would do for the night.
Both men silently agreed to give the girl the bed. They could share the pullout. Soap eased her off his back to sit on the mattress. She had fallen asleep on the walk and was trying to conceal her grogginess now that they had arrived at their destination. The little room had a closet, a box of old clothes inside that he picked through, trying to find something that she could wear. He decided to make some idle conversation.
"So, what's yer name, Lass?"
Ghost stood in the empty doorway. The actual door not on its hinges.
She didn't answer the question at first, "You call him Ghost?"
Soap turned his head to look at her, "Aye. We call him Ghost. They call me Soap."
She scrunched her freckled nose at that, and Ghost couldn't help the breathy chuckle that escaped him. "That's sort of strange, isn't it?" She asked.
"A bit I suppose." Soap shrugged, going back to rifling through the box.
After a few moments of silence, she spoke again, "Flora."
"Aye?"
"That's my name."
"Ah." Soap said finally, "A good name that."
"Thanks. I didnae choose it." She shrugged and Soap snorted.
"No, I suppose you didn't." He said, smirking to himself.
"How old are you?" Ghost asked, drawing her attention. "Like ten or something?"
She looked a little affronted at that, "I'm fourteen! You must be ancient if ya think I'm ten!"
"In any case," Ghost said changing the subject, "what was a Russian crime syndicate doing with a fourteen-year-old girl in their basement archives?"
She huffed, "Your guess is as good as mine I'm afraid. Said I was there for 'safe keeping'." She said the last part with air quotes.
Soap crawled over on his knees next to the bed and tossed some clothes down. They were still men's, but they were at least a little smaller than what she had on now. He dragged his vest over and removed the first aid kit from it.
"You injured?" He asked again, this time hoping for a better answer.
She shrugged, "Not too bad."
Bad answer.
"Can you show me what you're workin' with at least?"
She scrunched her nose again before deciding to cooperate. She brought a hand up and moved part of the sheet of hair out of her face. High on her forehead near her hairline was a dark bruise. A cut along it, leaking blood.
Soap hissed, "Yikes. That looks like it hurts, honey."
She wasn't done though. She dropped her hair and carefully rolled up one of her pant legs, twisting her leg to reveal a long slice along part of her calf. Ghost grimaced as he slowly stepped forward to get a better look himself.
Finally, she rolled up her shirt a bit. There was some old gauze hastily taped over a cut just under her ribs on the side. The whole side of her was various shades of purple. Dark bruising along her ribcage.
No wonder she had been wincing all night.
"Steamin' bloody jesus." Soap breathed.
"It's fine." Flora said, shrugging.
"It really really isn't." Soap's brow furrowed impossibly low. He and Ghost got to work on patching her up. They started with the head injury, cleaning it and applying a couple of butterfly bandages for hold the wound shut. The leg was easy, cleaned and bandaged it. It wasn't particularly deep. The wound on her side was the worst of it.
Soap carefully removed the old gauze to assess the damage. It was deep. The skin around it red and hot to the touch.
"This one is gonna hurt pretty bad for us to take care of, Flora." Soap admitted.
"Stitches?" She asked, sounding actually fearful for the first time since they had met her.
"Fraid so, darlin'.
She grimaced. Ghost climbed onto the bed so that he could hold her against him and still. She didn't fight him which he appreciated. He pressed her face into him, angling it away from where Soap would be working.
"Not a fan of needles?" Ghost asked.
She shook her head against him, and he hummed sympathetically. Soap doused a spare rag in disinfectant and held it above the wound for a moment. "This is probably gonna sting, yeah?"
She nodded against Ghost and held onto him tightly. Soap counted down from three before pressing it firmly to the wound. Flora let out a little yelp but did her best to stay quiet. Her fingers gripped onto the fabric of the jacket Ghost was wearing. Soap pulled the rag away finally and rubbed her forearm up and down encouragingly.
"Sorry about that, my dear. You did great. Just gotta get this closed and then you can get changed and go to bed." He told her.
When he had the needle threaded and had just started to poke at her skin she flinched, hard. Ghost held her tighter, doing his best to keep her still but not hurt her. She jerked against him with each pass of the sharp object. Neither man could blame her, especially with how sore and bruised the skin around the area already was.
By the time Soap finished she was practically panting. He got her torso bandaged, wrapped, and secure before declaring himself finished. She quickly wiped her eyes of a few stray tears trying to conceal them as she pulled away from Ghost.
As Soap helped her change clothes, Ghost left the room to work on contacting Price. The radio was their best friend in times like these. Normally they didn't have a kid with them though, so Ghost hoped the man would answer sooner rather than later. Fortunately for him, Price picked up their signal almost immediately. He must have been hovering and waiting for them to get in touch.
"Ghost?"
"Captain."
"It's good to hear you alive, son. Your location?"
Ghost gave him their coordinates and waited for Price to input all the proper information.
"You injured? How urgent do you need exfil?" The man asked finally.
"I'm with Soap. We're both fine Price, but there's a girl with us."
"Sorry?"
"A girl, sir. We found her inside. Chained up. She's just a kid, Captain. Fourteen." He explained, "Soap and I took care of her injuries, but she could use a medic. She doesn't know why they had her there."
There was static on the other end. He could practically see Price running a hand through his mustache.
"Her name?"
"Flora."
"Last name?"
"Not sure, Captain."
He heard Price huff, thinking.
"We'll pick you up tomorrow, Simon. That alright?" He said finally.
"Yes sir. That'll be fine."
Soap eventually emerged from the other room as Ghost finished speaking with Price. He looked at Ghost expectantly, "Tomorrow."
Soap hummed in confirmation. He gestured to the other room with his head, "She's asleep. Lord knows she needs it."
Ghost nodded.
Soap let out an exasperated noise, "What the hell are Makarov's men doing with a random girl?"
"I'm sure we'll be finding out, Johnny."