The Bullet's Mark (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 Fanfiction)

Chapter 31

Three Months Later

    "On this historic day, the representatives of two great nations stand before you united...."
    I'd always lived a path of loneliness. It wasn't anything new of course, but it was what defined me. Being alone, fighting alone, was something that had always come naturally. 
    But if I'd learned anything in the last year of my life, it was that loneliness was—at times—a weakness. Strength in numbers was really a mantra to live and breathe by. 
    "...a new chapter in which we pursue peace..." 
    Numbers gave strength in physicality. That was easy, simple-minded really. The complex part, the part I'd come to know once more with the Task Force 141, was the emotional strength. The knowledge that those around you had your back with both their rifles and aura. 
    It was that aura...that comfortability...which was unexplainable. At first I'd avoided it and now I craved it more than ever. However, while it was a comfort it held a deeper, more flighty feeling of panic...of regret and fear...
    "...our very existence..." 
    I turned away from the blaring television, uncrossing my uniform-clad arms. My tired hazel eyes shifted to something more important than an announcement from world leaders: Makarov. His location, his next steps...his impending death. 
    My fingers curled around the mobile phone, untraceable just in case. I hit a single button programmed to connect to the man I was staring at in the glossy, faded picture; Yuri's careful seeking and research had paid off.
    "Privet," there was a pause after the Russian greeting. "Who is this?" 
    "I'm coming for you Makarov." 
    "Samantha, how kind—"
    "Do you think they'll care to remember you?" 
    There was heavy silence on the other end of the line. 
    "Even if you get your revenge, you will never be satisfied," his words were poisonous. 
    I stifled a low chuckle. "You think this about my revenge? This is about the millions you've endangered and killed, the innocent and uninvolved." 
    "All war has casualties." 
    "Not like what you did." 
    "The war is over, what's it matter?" 
    "Not by a long-shot you bastard," I hissed. "My war—our war—ends with you."
    "I have a question that's been on my mind quite frequently," the rat sounded smug but I allowed him to continue. "How slowly did he die Samantha?" 
    I stayed quiet, anger flaring in my gut and causing my cheeks to flush in the dim room. Anger and blindness is what he wanted but wouldn't get. 
    "How much blood did Gary Sanderson lose because of your worthless actions?"
    "Shut up." 
    "Your world has been taken apart piece by piece Miss Hall. When will you just give up and join the rest of them?" 
    "When you go with me," I hissed, hating the accuracy of the beginning of his comment.
    "If you can find—"
    "When," I interrupted him. "When I find you...you'll be wishing I hadn't." 
    With that I hung up and tore the small, older phone apart and threw it against the wall to my left. A groan that left my throat that was foreign, exhausted. 
    "Maybe I should've kept a better eye on you," a voice spoke from the base of the stairwell behind me and I turned, "making late-night phone calls to the enemy is quite a scandalous deception lass." 
    I forced a small smile as Soap closed the distance. His arms closed around my smaller form as he sighed into the crook of my neck. We stood like that for a few moments. 
    "Why are you up Samantha?" 
    I moved out of his grasp in order to face him. "I can't sleep." 
    Soap opened his mouth to speak and then took it back, deciding an argument with a sleep-deprived, bloodthirsty woman wasn't the best of ideas. He sat back against an empty supply crate, folding his arms. I quietly paced about the area. 
    "I've never felt this way about anything before John," I whispered. "It's like everything has been leading to this and that failure isn't an option...no matter what." 
    "It's always worked out in the past, whether there's loss or spontaneous changes...we get things done. You know that." 
    "Doesn't mean I trust it this time." 
    Soap grew silent as I stopped by my pistol on one of the desks. My fingers slid over the engraving carefully thought out by the late Roach. I picked up the pistol, dropped the loaded mag and then popped it back in, enjoying the smooth feeling of the rest of the weapon; I swore it had been done a million times in the last few months.
    "Soap can you promise me something?" 
    "Anything."
    "If it comes down to it...to me or him...or finishing the mission," I faced him after setting the pistol down. "Stay focused. Choose him and the mission. Every single time." 
    Soap looked torn as he searched my eyes for a sign of softness when there was none. He had a crack in his trained soldier self and what we'd developed was the cause of it. I couldn't allow anything to jeopardize what we had taken months to figure and plan out. 
    I had regret towards him...towards what had blossomed between us. 
    Love had always been something I lacked—something I pushed away from the day my mother had died and began my military life. Soap had been my crack just as I'd been his and, as wonderful as it had been, it sucked when it came down to the situation we were dealing with. 
    "Sam, I—"
    "Promise me John." 
    Soap didn't want to nod or say any sort of agreement. His frown deepened as he forced himself to tilt his head up and down. I reached out to feel his bicep, giving a firm squeeze. 
    "Thank you."
    Soap said nothing, knowing fully well that though he could care all he wanted nothing would be the same until after it was all over. Even then, I'd had time to consider so much in the last three months, what happened after was going to be interesting and unknown. What I was aware of, however, was a life settling down for wasn't for me. 
    "Have you thought of what comes after this?"
    "Not exactly no," Soap cocked his head. "I do know I want to do whatever it takes to stay in your life Sam. You're one of the few people who I've grown to love and who has taught me so much."
    I stayed quiet, pondering his words and knowing I wanted the same thing deep down. Though, there was a thick wall in the way of those feelings and I knew it had to do with everything piling up as it was. 
    "I'm not sure if I'm someone you'd want to keep company with any longer than you had been." 
    "Nonsense lass," Soap pushed off the supply crate and clutched my wrist. "I've seen it all with you...killing, crying, angry, and sad. I've seen you excited and at peace. I've seen you sleeping and fucking..." I smiled at his smirk to that comment. "There's no one else I'd rather keep company with, stubborn." 
    His words couldn't stop a true smile from landing on my lips, color flushing into my cheeks as if I was a younger version of myself. I fell into his opening embrace in a quiet, temporary bliss. It was sweet while it lasted, and I knew it wouldn't for much longer. 
    "Come back up to bed," Soap whispered, finally releasing me. Seeing the look of disagreement on my face he added a plea. "Please?"
    I looked over my shoulder at the disarray of papers and documents, of photos and intel. Sighing, I nodded and let him guide me back upstairs to the little bit of comfort of our shared bed. Even if it felt odd or wouldn't last long, I needed to embrace the small moments a little more than I had been over the last three months. Afterall there was a big possibility that I would never have them again...