Ashes in the Darkness

Respite

Authors Note: I hope you have tissues. I'm sorry in advance. Don't quit though. There are still two more chapters and an Epilogue after this. I'm also planning on writing a second complete fanfic that follows the one... this isn't how this story ends. Just trust me. This is only the beginning.

GIANT TRIGGER WARNING: major character death (kinda, *wink* *wink*) Blood and gore, near drowning, emetophobia, a lot of cursing.

This far north, in the mountains the late spring air remained cool in the morning. The night sky was still retreating from dawn when we heard the sound of heavy trucks not far in the distance. Price, seldom giving himself more than a few minutes of rest, gave us the orders to take our places. Fortunately, all of the boys were already posted around the meadow below and it was only I that ran quickly to the top of the fire tower, picking up Ghost's TAC-50 and laying out on the balcony.

The sniper rifle had become familiar to me now, and I gave myself a small moment to appreciate how far I had come. The first time I had seen the firearm, I had scoffed that I would ever be able to shoot such a thing with any kind of accuracy. Soap, despite being a terrible teacher, had at least given me the benefit of the doubt. Scrambled thoughts of the nights naughty event had caused my heart and stomach to not agree with each other, and with each longing look between Ghost and I, my heart would drop into my stomach. Bringing on an unbearable wave of nausea. Or perhaps it was just the fact that the last thing I ate was Oreos and potato chips.

We had finished scouting a perimeter in the forest, found decent places for the boys to hide amongst the woods. All of us had returned to the fire tower late into the night, Ghost and I making sure to be as far as possible from each other when Captain Price asked for an update. Gaz and Soap spent the rest of the early morning putting on all kinds of camouflage face paint and trying out the ghillie suites.

"I haven't gotten the chance to wear one of these out in the field," Soap said from behind a screen of fake foliage that covered his head.

"They aren't all to comfortable and their bulky, but they are cool," Gaz said, pulling one of Ghost's balaclavas over his head.

Ghost was already dressed and ready to blend into the black spruce moss, wearing a dark green balaclava. To say that the tension in the one room at the top of the fire tower was terribly lacking in morale or positivity was an understatement. Not even Soap was eager for the sun to rise, for the moon to dip away. A silent fear spread amongst all of us. Although I knew that I would never get used to it, the nervous feeling was familiar. Before medical evacuations, before missions, before combat, the mind seems to wonder through the things you had done in your lifetime. Had you been a good person? Done the right things? Made the right choices? Often hyper fixating on a moment you wish you could change, words you wish you could take back, or words that you would have said. Dead man's thoughts.

Price stood on the balcony, viewing the world from above one last time. I don't know what had compelled me to walk out onto the balcony, but my feet moved before my thoughts could be stopped. His arms were folded over his chest, beard long and scraggly, I was guessing it had been a long time since he had been able groom himself.

He didn't turn towards me when I walked out, barely even acknowledged my existence but I could tell from his eyes that his thoughts were a cyclone of "what ifs."

We stood silently for a long time, taking in the cool late spring air and the dark abyss of night in the wilderness. I didn't know what to say to him, to reassure him that I believed that our team could finish this once and for all tomorrow. Leadership was something I didn't wish on my worst enemy; the responsibility of good men's lives on Price had to be a curse that not even Satan would bestow. I couldn't even bring myself to imagine the mental anguish he had to go through every time he sent us on a mission, sent us to possible death. How many men had he lost to remain so stoic on a night like this?