Phoenix in the Light

The Hunt

Writers Note: I wanted to give a quick thank you to those of you that have stuck with this journey since the beginning . I can't believe we are approaching 10,000 views on the first story. Bless you all. This is a shorter chapter but pivotal. Luv y'all.

Trigger Warnings: Discussions of death and torture, slight claustrophobia.

Ghost had been pacing the outside of the operations meeting room for damn near an hour now, and he was beginning to lose his patience. The evening sun cast a red and pink hue into the sky that reminded him of blood-soaked ground and rose petals. He knew everyone was inside that room, everyone accepted him of course.

Soap and him had been in the middle of a weight lifting session when Price came knocking, rounding up the crew for the mission over a year in the making. Ghost couldn't help himself when he followed Johnny to the only building in this place, but didn't argue when Price had forbidden him from being part of the conversation. Twelve weeks ago Ghost had been on strict desk duty, going over the paperwork for field operations and tactical training that were more boring than watching paint dry. Ghost supposed that Price was beginning to take pity on him and allowed him to spend a few hours at the rifle range every day as well as monitored training sessions with some of the British marines that had come to base.

He had gone on a few mock field survival missions, testing out the instincts of the men. He wasn't impressed by most of them, but he had learned to understand that he was biased when such trials had become second nature to him. He had become astoundingly aware of how old he was becoming in comparison to the newbies that came in. Some hadn't even heard of Ghost and the tales of his confinement in Mexico all those years ago. He supposed that all stories eventually turn to myth and legend eventually. These nineteen- and twenty-year-olds that joined up were tough, but mindless. It reminded him of himself when he was still a lad in England, trying to escape his father's vindictive games or his brother terrorizing him.

Watching them find comradery was fascinating to Ghost, as it was something he had been deprived of after his mission in Mexico and being tortured by Manuel Roba. Seeing the way they treated each other like trash, only to hold onto one another like brothers when it was needed... was something Ghost had never seen or felt before. Brotherhood was important to morale in the military, Ghost was well aware of that. But it wasn't something Ghost craved or felt he needed to keep himself level with the playfield of soldiers. But that was due to the fact that he had seen and done more shit than any of these men would see in their careers. That thought brought a smile to his face.

Until Soap came along. Soap was... tolerable at best. But Ghost had seen the way he was learning as a commander for special forces, and even though Ghost was his senior, Soap had grown into his britches, so had Gaz. For so long it had been a nuisance to see them going on a mission without Ghost, but quietly, in the back of Ghost's heart, reminding him he was still human, still Simon... he felt proud of his teammates. He was seeing boys become men, strangers become brothers, people become gods. He had been watching from the outside. He was certainly jealous of them, but there was an unspoken sense of goodness to the fact they didn't have to go through everything that Ghost went through when he was a young soldier. The betrayal, the torture, the nightmares.

For the first time in nine months, Ghost was beginning to feel like himself again. Holding and firing a gun again put him in a mindset not to think about her, not feel anything about her. It was like riding a bike and it took him less than a day to fire his TAC-50 with perfect accuracy and precision. He had thanked Price the next morning, although Ghost had not fully forgiven Price for leaving her to die and Price did not fully trust Ghost to operate on a mission again. The two of them had shared a moment of recognition of respect and honor, embracing for a moment the way a father embraces a son he had not seen in many years.