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Soap was nearing his limit.
He could feel it approaching the longer the debrief was taking. An amassing hot pressure in his chest, that was steadily rising, demanding more and more of his focus just to keep it back. Every moment, every word, was begging it for him to release, for him to spill it forth to inflict on the world around him. To finally get rid of the awful energy that climbed through his body, that flickered in every one of his nerves.
A fuse, so close to being lit. One spark, one flicker of a flame, all that would be needed. Just one, and an explosion would follow.
Soap bit his tongue, hard, to continue in keeping it in. Professionalism and his own training demanding him to keep quiet, to deal with it. To suppress and defuse.
He knew he was feeling this wound up, this agitated, because of his own problems. Not those of the rest of the 141, not of the three men surrounding him. They shouldn’t bear the brunt of it.
A visit later to the gym, to bruise his knuckles on punching bags until all he could feel was the pain, was definitely in order. Or a run far away from everyone else so he could explode in peace. Alone. Without dragging anyone else into his messy state.
And all of this just because he had fucked up the mission.
Or, well, almost fucked up the mission.
The mission itself had been a success. Barely.
Still felt like an absolute failure on his part though.
It had almost ended in the worst case scenario, and all because Soap hadn’t managed to snipe the target before they had found cover. Other enemies and the roar of an explosion had distracted him for too long, only able to catch a person ducking around the next corner in his crosshair before they were already gone.
The prime target, the one they had specifically been sent to kill, escaping. About to flee so that they could live another night, another day, full on prepared to cause even more death and destruction in their wake.
Ghost had saved the day. He had managed to reach the target at the last second, cracking their head open with one precise shot. Leading them to a mission success despite the chaos that had been unleashed.
No thanks to Soap, that was for sure. Especially since he had originally been responsible for the kill.
A failure. Just like always.
Soap breathed in with a controlled inhale, trying to keep the shake in his fingers from starting to be noticeable. Ghost was in the front corner of the small briefing room they were in, watching Price’s debrief and glancing over every now and then. He would definitely be the first to notice if Soap continued like this, if he allowed to let any more signs of his current state to show.
Ghost was always watchful, always observing. Which Soap normally didn’t mind at all, but currently it was really not doing him any favours.
Gaz, who was sitting next to Soap, was too focused on the Captain, to notice anything. And Price was busy trying to put everything down for them to see.
Ghost was the biggest danger.
Soap couldn’t let himself be distracted from his control for a moment, though he also had to listen to the debrief too. And he was listening. He really was, but the continued building thrum inside of him made holding on to the information so hard. He would have to ask Gaz later on, after this had been dealt with, if there were any important points he had missed.
Soap just had to hold out. He could do that, it was nothing new. Smile for a while longer, keep his shoulders relaxed, but not too much. Definitely not flinch at every reminder that he had failed at his task, had not been good enough for his team.
Just endure it, like always, until he could work it off in solitude.
Within a blink, the projector switched to a blank white slide, brightening the dark room more than the muddy coloured maps and grainy dark pictures had. Price let the hand he had been pointing with fall back down to his side.
“Think that’s about it”, the Captain’s sharp gaze slid over them all. “Keep in mind what went wrong today and take better actions next time.”
Soap had to hold himself back from sinking into his seat, sure that Price was looking at him specifically when he said that. He gave a small nod and a weak grin, keeping up a wobbly appearance of normalcy in his own opinion.
Price however didn’t notice.
“But all in all, mission success. Good work, boys.” His warm smile with the praise was directed at Ghost in the corner, his sweeping glance through the room having ended there.
Of course it did. Ghost was the one who got the kill in the end. All Soap had done was need cover and then he had blown the one shot he had when it had really mattered.
But at least it was over. Only a few more seconds and Soap could disappear off to wherever he needed to go to finally get rid of the livewire inside his mind, the boiling heat inside his chest. To finally let go of his finely tuned appearance to bare the ugliness that was waiting to seep out.
What a soldier he turned out to be in the end. Holding on by a thin thread, thanks to just one small mishap. He deserved all the nightmares he had gotten at night recently.
The slight scrape of chairs sounded as he and Gaz stood up at almost the exact same moment, Price packing up his things at the computer. Ghost was in the corner still, waiting as usual until the Sergeants had left. Probably to talk with Price about some higher up details they weren’t privy to yet.
Or the future drills to be held.
God, Soap was not looking forward to the exercises he would have to run after his disaster of a try at a killing shot. It made his chest clench just thinking about it.
A sudden bump to Soap’s shoulder led his attention to Gaz, who was smiling down at him as they walked side by side towards the door.
Soap didn’t have it in him to convincingly grin back. He lifted a questioning brow, the rest of his face carefully neutral.
“Ready to blow this joint and get a few drinks?”, Gaz meant cheerfully.
Yeah, no. While kind of a tradition, getting tipsy right now would only lead to an even messier release of all the things that were fighting within Soap. He was not looking for any other company either.
Just as he was about to decline, Gaz added, “Or do you want to go to the range and polish that miserable shooting of yours?”
It was a joke. It had to be a joke.
Gaz was Soap’s friend, his brother in arms, he was just teasing. Soap knew all that. He knew that!
But it was too much.
The heat boiled over, Soap stopping his walk towards the door to whirl around. “I’m doing mah fuckin’ best Gaz!” His glare was scorching, voice low and sharp like it had never been before. “So juist haud yer wheesht an’ get tae!”
With clenched fists, Soap abruptly turned around, stamping towards the door. He was done with this, done with all of it. He just needed somewhere else, somewhere preferably alone, so he could scream himself hoarse in peace. He didn’t need any more fucking reminders of what kind of a failure he really was.
Abruptly Soap was stopped by a hard grip on his shoulder.
Anger erupted and Soap turned back around, slapping away the hand with a harsh move. Arms automatically raised to stop any further advances, counter any attacks. To fight, to bleed, to hurt someone else as much as he was hurting inside.
But no attack came.
Gaz had even taken a step back, hands raised in a show of non-hostility.
As if he wanted to calm Soap down, wanted to reign him in by his superiority alone. The perfect golden boy, the best selection had ever seen.
Soap’s own stance fell away, gaze burning with the fury inside of him. Being denied a physical release, he shouted, “Can’t ye see?! I’m tryin’ Gaz! I’m trying mah fuckin’ best and this- it-“
His everything hurt, throat clenched in a way only the coming of tears could do. But he held it back, hurling poisoned words as he tried to get rid of the toxic sludge filling his being, burning in his veins.
“We can’t all be as perfect as ye!”
But instead of relief, the taken aback face of Gaz only added towards the hurt, towards the blaze consuming Soap from the inside out. Chest heaving harder with every new stinging word he spoke. If they were aimed at himself or others unclear.
“- ‘m trying-!”
It was too much. He couldn’t hold back anymore.
His sight was the first thing to be affected, suddenly getting blurry. His throat spasmed in pain as his words immediately got quieter. Coursing anger flowed over into an agony that was fully turned inwards, flaying Soap open from the inside. Making him bleed within himself, only adding to the pressure that was taking over, was swallowing him.
He had to get out of here, he had to leave. This was not the place for this to happen.
But Soap was stuck where he stood, body full on trembling in upheaval. Not listening to his command, muscles frozen and cramping under the onslaught.
“- I’m trying. I really am. I’m trying so hard, I swear. I-“
He just wanted it all to stop.
Embarrassment was nothing noticeable to add to the list of emotions swallowing him up. The stray tears that had started to escape the cause, more immediately following. They trailed over heated cheeks, down his trembling lips. Soap futilely tried to wipe them away as more and more followed, but the dam was broken and no stop to the flood in sight.
His breath came hard, he had to fight for every inhale as choppy words continued to stream out. His closed throat forcing them into broken whispers.
“- I – I’m sorry. I’m sorry - I’m juist not good enough, I’m sorry- I –“
It was too much. It was all just too much.
Soap was helpless under it all, blind and bound to endure, even when he could endure no longer. His hands clawed into his shirt as he tried desperately to get some air, head dizzy. He had endured for so long, taking in every hurt, every pain, only for it to explode out of him now. To implode inside of him for everyone to see.
What a miserable spectacle he had to be, proving once and for all how unworthy of his position he was. How useless.
How he should just-
Abruptly, a hand landed on Soap’s shoulder. A full-body flinch, Soap’s brain too stuck for anything else. Blurry eyes just barely able to recognize that iconic hat through tears.
When Price had gotten this close, Soap didn’t know. But he didn’t fight the touch. Couldn’t fight the touch, drowning as he was.
A choked sound that could almost be a title the only thing escaping him.
Here it was about to come. Here he was about to be kicked out, discharged, just because of his incompetence. And all he could do was desperately try and drag in air, his throat closed up.
But to Soap’s surprise, something else came.
Another hand, on the other shoulder, other arm, slowly moving up and down. Lightly rubbing over Soap’s skin, encouraging him to loosen his cramped hold on himself.
“Shhh, shh-shh”, Price spoke in a low voice, “It’s alright, just breathe. It’s alright son.”
Soap couldn’t hold himself back. With Price this close, he suddenly lunged forward, grabbing hold of the Captain’s shirt instead, hands clawing into the cloth. Price let him. Didn’t fight him.
It made Soap’s head bow down, forehead pressing against a steady chest. A broken sob punched out of him, as he took the anchor offered to him with a greed that had to be punishable. Was certainly about to be punished, body tensing and shivering, hot and cold all over.
Soap wasn’t sure he could take anything more right now. Not when like this.
But nothing more came.
No hit, no reprimand. Only soothing hushes, Price’s arms slowly tightening into a gesture that was an actual hug, holding him close. Holding him steady.
It choked down Soap’s next breath, the unexpected move like a punch to his chest. Miserable sounds escaped from his lips, as tears and snot continued to stream down his face, dripping onto the Captain’s shirt.
His limbs trembling all over.
A sudden flurry of moves. Soap unable to keep track of them. He just realized he was suddenly on his knees on the ground, his kneecaps hurting. Price had followed or had led the fall. Whatever, his hold was still strong, continuing to keep Soap close to himself. A steady hand stroking over Soap’s shuddering back.
“It’s alright. Just let it all out. It’s alright.”
Price’s voice was calm, steady, just like always. But it was pitched softer, more soothing, than Soap had ever heard it before. Another hiccupped gasp tore out of his throat.
“Just breathe, you’re okay. You’re not at fault, you’re okay. Just breathe…”
Soap tried to follow Price’s lead. Tried to get a grip on his breathing, tried to get it under control, but it escaped him time and time again. What a failure, what a mistake. Unable to even follow his Captain’s lead.
Price should be able to see that. He should!
Soap was sure, was so so sure he would be pushed away any moment now, any second. Disallowing any further comfort through his disobedience of a superior. And it would be what would do him in.
Any second…
Any.
Second.
…
“Deep breaths, Soap. Deep breaths. Just take your time. I’m here.”
A tortured inhale.
Released just as suddenly, hiccups and gasps. Shudders all over. But Soap tried again despite that.
Tried again, and again. Each failure threatening to knock him back, only for those words to right him once more.
Again.
Choking inhale, hold for a second. Uncontrolled release, sudden, explosive.
But he had held it longer.
Again.
Failure, chaotic, not enough air.
“You’re okay. Just try…”
Again.
Better, just a bit. An awful sound slipped out along with it, but Price continued to hold.
And again. Just again.
Time was inconsequential as Soap fought to control his breaths, fought to control his body. It was a fight harder than he could have ever expected.
But he continued to fight. And he wasn’t alone.
Another hand suddenly landed on Soap’s shoulder. The touch brought him out of his attempt to inhale, head snapping up with a wretched gasp. Through his blotchy vision he could see Gaz on his haunches next to them. Soap couldn’t read his face through all the tears.
“We’re all here Soap”, the other Sergeant murmured. Just loud enough to be heard over the droning of Soap’s blood in his ears. “You’re doing well. Keep at it… We’re here.”
The unexpected praise snapped something loose in Soap.
With an animalistic sound, he suddenly grabbed Gaz’s shirt by the shoulder, dragging him closer. The thought of the other being even this far away, too much, too little. Gaz fell into the huddle, gripped into the hug by Soap with an incredible ferocity despite him trembling all over.
Still catching his breath.
Gaz didn’t fight it. He reciprocated the embrace, holding Soap in turn, as Soap laid his aching head into the crook of Gaz’s neck. Chocking on air, but dragging it in easier, faster.
It held longer.
Soap tried again.
The thought of the things Soap had shouted at Gaz ached something fierce. He had even almost gone for a brawl, for a fight, though he had been the one in the wrong.
After the next breath, he squeezed out the smallest of words through his clogged throat.
“S-sorry… Gaz, for-“
“Shut the fuck up Soap. You’re not at fault.”
Soap swallowed painfully at the words, catching his next breath before Gaz continued.
“Just breathe for me, yeah? Just breathe. We’re okay. You’re not broken.”
It hurt, it hurt so much.
But Soap didn’t let up, not with those two supporting him, not with those two keeping him upright. Keeping him together.
A rough gloved hand was laid on Soap’s neck. Grabbing him there lightly, comfortably. The move familiar.
“You’re doing well Johnny, keep it up.”
The familiar rumble of Ghost made Soap squeeze his eyes shut, more tears leaking.
He couldn’t help it, his emotions raw like an open wound, weeping and mixing and hurting. But slowly relieving as well, bleeding out the pressure bowing down on his ribs.
It felt so much better than all the other times.
The warm bodies holding him, shielding him, keeping him together through it all. A steady hand on his neck, rubbing the fine hairs there, calming his whirlpool head more with each passing moment.
All of it soothing him in a way he had never felt before. Helping him in ways he had never thought possible, not with this.
It was so much better than bloody knuckles on placid sandbags, screaming matches with the world in the abandoned corners he could find. Choked shouts and lost time, curled up from the world he was supposed to protect, to safeguard against danger.
But this time, he was safeguarded instead.
And it was helping.
Slowly the pain was draining, breaths becoming easier, better. Continued encouragements and soothing adulations showered over him, motivating him to keep trying. Motivating him to keep going. Gasps turned into small hiccups, slow sniffles. Throat easing up, aching but not fully clogged anymore. Eyes swollen and warm, but not continuously crying.
Tiredness was taking over, the exhaustion of the entire ordeal slowly hitting home.
But Soap was kept from keeling over through his close ones embraces and holds. Them keeping him upright as he slowly pieced himself back together, slowly calmed down.
And not a single word of judgement was uttered. Not a single action taken to stop Soap from getting what he needed.
It made something new, something light swell in Soap’s chest. Something that helped him finally raise his head, as small smile on his lips.
It would be alright.
They would make sure of that.
And Soap felt content. For the first time in a long while.