“Yeah, I’m Ghost,” Simon runs a hand over his face, almost self-consciously, suddenly missing the balaclava. He can feel Sgt. Westbrook scrutinizing him as he answers Sandman’s question.
Doc dropped the last of the cast on the floor and smiled, examining Roach’s arm and pressing his fingers along the long, pink scar that now resided the length of his forearm.
“He blames himself for what happened to Trojan,” Ghost explains to the two delta operators.
Ghost glances back at the two Delta operators, noting with some sort of grim pleasure that they, at least, recognize Roach’s name.
Roach followed Doc quietly, pointing the way to Soaps room and they enter, Doc shutting the door quietly and setting down his bag.
“Yeah, I’m Ghost,” Simon runs a hand over his face, almost self-consciously, suddenly missing the balaclava. He can feel Sgt. Westbrook scrutinizing him as he answers Sandman’s question.
Ghost turns to look over his shoulder at Frost as the sergeant shrugs.
Sandman gives Frost an encouraging smile as Soap let out a laugh at Ghost’s remark, glancing at Doc then at Roach who took the hint.
Ghost glances back at the two Delta operators, noting with some sort of grim pleasure that they, at least, recognize Roach’s name.
Ghost allows Roach to lean against him, gathering the sergeant into his arms, making a hushing noise.
Roach was aware of Ghost pulling him in and he gripped his arm tightly, the sudden warmth and security that encircled him calming him but his gaze never left Sandman, fixed upon this man who was so similar, yet completely different, but Roach couldn’t keep a grasp of the differences, only the similarities.
Ghost turns to look over his shoulder at Frost as the sergeant shrugs.
Ghost gets the gist of John’s look and sits back down, sliding his chair closer to Roach and putting his hand back on the sergeant’s shoulder. “Hey,” he murmurs quietly, leaning in towards his lover. “You okay?”
Roach kept his gaze fixed on Sandman, this…this man who was so much like Trojan that it hurt.
Ghost allows Roach to lean against him, gathering the sergeant into his arms, making a hushing noise.
Ghost gives Roach’s fingers a strong squeeze before he takes his hands back, withdrawing from Roach as he rises to answer the door.
Roach ignores Ghost, knowing he’s only saying it to keep him calm, despite yelling at himself that it’s true, that it’s not his fault, that everything is fine and Soap was just upset.
Ghost gets the gist of John’s look and sits back down, sliding his chair closer to Roach and putting his hand back on the sergeant’s shoulder. “Hey,” he murmurs quietly, leaning in towards his lover. “You okay?”
Ghost reaches out and puts his hand on Roach’s shoulder, recognizing the look of guilt and other emotions in the younger man’s eyes. Those were feelings Ghost hadn’t seen in a while, things he hadn’t wanted to see again.
Roach glances at Ghost with smile which is clearly faked and forced and nods, his eyes betraying the hate he feels for himself.
Ghost gives Roach’s fingers a strong squeeze before he takes his hands back, withdrawing from Roach as he rises to answer the door.
Ghost glances at Roach’s untouched tea but is suitably distracted by Roach’s statement.
Soap couldn’t help but scoff bitterly at the words.
Ghost reaches out and puts his hand on Roach’s shoulder, recognizing the look of guilt and other emotions in the younger man’s eyes. Those were feelings Ghost hadn’t seen in a while, things he hadn’t wanted to see again.
“Sir—” Ghost sighs exasperatedly, slipping back in to his military way of addressing John. “I’m not even injured. I can help you with paperwork, it ain’t gonna kill me.”
Soap merely gave a tired smile at Ghost’s obvious an annoyance, the computer beeping yet again and he clearly tightened his grip on the mug, almost restraining himself.
Ghost glances at Roach’s untouched tea but is suitably distracted by Roach’s statement.
Ghost sets a mug full of black tea in front of MacTavish, and sets Roach’s chamomile tea in front of him, along with a small jar of honey.
Roach eyed the tea and honey, hugging the cup with his hands but not drinking, watching the phone on the floor.
“Sir—” Ghost sighs exasperatedly, slipping back in to his military way of addressing John. “I’m not even injured. I can help you with paperwork, it ain’t gonna kill me.”
