Something in the Orange | ghost x soap ✓

xii

"You hid this. Why?" Price says, looking into the computer.

He hasn't felt this type of way since Laswell told him that Alex was missing after a shitty mission in Urzikstan. It was a strange mixture of disappointment, guilt, powerless with a sprinkle of numbness. He was the captain and could barely keep his men safe. He knew that in times of war, he was lucky to see every one of their damned faces on the other side; but it came in waves. It was something he was constantly working through with his therapist.

"We all keep secrets, Captain," Shepard replied. His words cut Price deeply.

"Why the hell wasn't I informed?" Price asked, his voice getting louder. He was allowing his anger to spill over the top of the cup. Maybe he would allow it to completely spill over this time.

Shepard rolled his eyes, "Consider yourself well informed now, John."

Price could feel his heartrate spiking, he knew what was coming next, "Oh, that's really fuckin' helpful, General. Thank you."

Shepard rolled his eyes again and waved Price's anger off. The General never would get it; the Task Force 141 was his family. At least, the closest thing he had to family. He looked over them; Gaz leaning over the table, stretching his back; Soap with his arms crossed over his chest, looking serious; And Ghost, standing in the shadows watching this all play out. He had a new addition to his task force, Alejandro, Rodolfo, and The Los Vaqueros. He was upset that Shepard had used his international pawns to fix his own wrongdoing.

"But you're a day late and a missile short," Price continued to drill into Shepard, "There's three of them—we have only found two."

"Then point yourself in that direction and fix it," Shepard commented, in a tone that made Price want to put his fist through the field laptop that was sitting on the table. It would have been nicer if Shepard said no fucking duh dipshit. Price could feel his throat burning keeping back the words he wanted to say to the General.

"And who fixes you, eh?" Price asked, his voice low.

Shepard scoffed, "I don't need fixing. I am a patriot protecting my country!"

Price had enough of the bullshit spewing from Shepard's mouth. He stood, "You're protecting your own ass."

"I do what needs to be done and no one holds me down with a roll of red tape," Shepard replied, "I know what's best for the cause."

Price chuckled and shook his head, "You've lost your mind, General."

Soap threw a look at Ghost over his shoulder. He nodded, thinking the same thing that Johnny was; Price laughing in this kind of situation was never a good thing; it meant he was ready to snap. And it was not going to be pretty at all.

"And you've forgotten what you're fighting for, John," Shepard commented, "To do good, you gotta do some bad. When we shit, we bury it. That's how it works."

The room fell silence. The three Task Force members were holding their breath; Price never forgot what he was fighting for. Often, he was the one reminding the team what they were fighting for. This wasn't just another job; they were fighting to keep society as they knew it in order.

"Yeah," Price replied, nodding his head, "But we don't bury each other with it, do we?"

His tone made Soap flinch. Ghost put a gloved hand on the younger man to steady him. They were almost done with the conversation and then they could decompress.

"You need to turn off that side o' your head and face down the real enemy," Shepard commanded.

Price pulled the chair out from the table, leaning in close to the laptop; his voice was low and threatening, "You need to call off your shadow."