As had happened on previous leaves, however short, Johnny didn't return to base that night or the nights that followed.
Yael hadn't invited him and he hadn't asked; he simply stayed, as it seemed natural to them both. This new, strange routine had been a breath of fresh air for the girl.
She had managed to leave work behind for the longest period she had ever allowed herself in three years, without qualms or second thoughts. She had given herself time. Time to spend with the man she loved.
In a few days, she had discovered things about John MacTavish that the boy would not have been able to tell her in a lifetime. Small things, almost insignificant perhaps, but which had only served to sharpen the need she had built for him inside.
On sleepless nights, she had watched him sleep. And by sleep, she meant sleep so deep that she doubted she could wake him with conventional methods. It was as if he was recharging from that constant state of fight or flight he must be in during a mission.
He would toss and turn in her bed, his rough hands often grabbing her between the sheets to pull her against his massive, burning body. Yael felt almost embarrassed by the ease with which she had fallen in love with him, and perhaps also guilty for that desire to steal those moments of absolute serenity from him.
She would often rest her head on his chest, losing herself in the slow, steady rhythm of his heart, smiling at those involuntary movements of his arms that welcomed her with a sleepy groan.
Awake, on the other hand, he was a menace.
When he wasn't running in the park or taking her around the city, he paced those four walls like a tiger in a cage, begging her to give him something to do. Whether it was chewing gum or fixing something around the house, he had to keep busy. In fact, the apartment had never been as efficient as since Johnny had been with her.
However, if he wasn't focused on something else, his fixed thought was...well, Yael.
He didn't care how or where, the girl discovered that he had a desperate need to touch her, feel her close, give her pleasure. Perhaps stockpiling before being forcibly thrown back into the line of fire.
He kissed her greedily, as if the girl was air and he had been holding his breath until that moment.
He used the most absurd pretexts, and often Yael simply went along with his adorable pantomimes, amused.
"Seein' anything ye like, bonnie?" he had chuckled smugly once, when the doctor's eyes had lingered a bit too long on the gloved fingers that were nervously drumming on the car's steering wheel.
"Chatty. It was the tapping, it distracted me." the girl had promptly retorted, but she had looked away.
"Mhmm. Aye. Keep tellin' yerself that, bonnie." the shameless arrogance was palpable in the husky tone, the confidence plastered on his attractive face, as one corner of his mouth curled towards her.
The thick Scottish accent on every word, deliberately making her blush. Then it had returned to the rhythmic pace of before, this time deliberately.
That voice.
Yael had a strong suspicion that Johnny was aware of the effect it had on her. That husky, deep cadence that rolled over her skin into parts of herself she didn't remember having.
He knew how to whisper confessions and images to her that, in other times, she would not have allowed a man to evoke in her. The way he wanted her was all-consuming, dizzying.
"Dinna haud back, lass."
"I cannae come till ye moan my name, bonnie."
For her, John MacTavish was like the storm.
She felt him before she even saw him. That electric shock between them, his metallic and familiar scent, the grip of his arms protecting her from the world. In those moments, the doctor felt herself in the eye of the storm, breathless, paralyzed by the sparkle of those sea-blue irises in hers.
Wrapped in his towering and imposing frame, safe, overwhelmed by his downpour and captured by the solid and constant beat in his chest.
Despite the resistance so deeply rooted within her, she had eventually begun to succumb to the sweet flattery of that stentorean presence in her life.
However, as the days went by, she had also had the distinct feeling that the sergeant was carefully avoiding something. Something uncomfortable, cumbersome inside him. Something that, in all probability, scared him.
After seven days of that curious asylum, late one afternoon the peace was interrupted by the indiscreet vibration of Johnny's cell phone on the kitchen counter.
The lad shot up from the sofa, almost mechanically, leaving the TV on that they were both watching distractedly, Yael more than anything else busy reading some medical article on her laptop.
She watched the imposing figure cross the room with measured, almost cautious steps, as he took the call. He answered curtly, his voice husky and deep, heading for the stairs. He clearly didn't want to make her a part of that conversation.
Yael feigned a detachment she didn't feel. She turned off the TV, tried to go back to concentrating on what she was reading, but to no avail.
The words tangled in her brain in turmoil, losing their meaning, while the thought that that phone call would take him away from her for an indefinite time became clear in her mind. Suddenly, the comfortable nest she had created on the old sofa seemed unbearable to her.
In the silence, the muffled ticking of the modern wall clock ticked mercilessly a very slow time.
From the large three-part bow window, the last light of the day set the clear sky on fire, caressed the yellowed hedges and fragmented into intricate patterns on the wooden floor of the living room.
The last chirps before sunset occasionally animated the immobile, almost suspended background of the sleepy external reality. Then, Yael heard it. Johnny was pacing the bedroom furiously, the harsh tone of his voice just a little higher, not enough to let her make out the words, but enough to make her realize how upset he was.
She didn't want to eavesdrop, it wasn't in her nature and she doubted the sergeant would have tolerated such an intrusion into his work.
Despite everything, those mechanisms were still so deeply embedded in her that they knotted her stomach. She would pretend not to understand, not to have caught the name of Captain Price, nor another name, unknown, but pronounced with such hatred that it made her shiver.
She wouldn't ask him anything. Because deep down she feared the answer.
Lost in those thoughts, she didn't notice the muffled, measured footsteps on the stairs.
When she saw him appear on the threshold of the living room, his shoulders so broad that they blocked the entire passage, her heart immediately accelerated its beating. Not out of fear, nor out of surprise. For love. Simply. In its purest form.
The boy gave her a crooked smile, the stormy sea in his blue irises engulfing her deep down, but he didn't say a word. He took his place back on the couch, sitting at her feet, as if nothing had happened.
Yael watched him for a few seconds, cursing herself for that old modesty that didn't allow her to intrude further into Soap MacTavish's life.
What she had felt for her father, what she still felt for him, was a tremendous love, terrible in the devastating emptiness it had opened up inside her in years of silence, of broken promises and of words unspoken.
She had lived until then in its quiet company, wounded, crumpled by that abysmal weight, gathering every crumb of her life force so as not to break.
And yet, that's not what she wanted for Johnny.
In that silence, the laptop humming on her lap, the gentle ticking of the clock behind them, Yael shook off that shiver she had been carrying inside for a lifetime and listened.
The more she listened, the more that breath crept into her. Each inhaling more laboured, each exhalation longer, as if he wanted to empty his lungs of any sensation that had clung to him inside.
An unfamiliar and overwhelming tenderness instinctively guided her fingers. They travelled delicately to the base of Johnny's neck, that unexpected connection creating a sudden hitch in his breath, but he didn't pull away.
As the girl's hand danced lightly between his shaved scalp and the last strands of his Mohican crest, MacTavish pulled his head back further, almost begging her for more contact. The tension in his muscles was undeniable.
"Christ, Johnny... you're as stiff as a board. What's wrong?" the girl whispered softly, perhaps with too much honesty.
The comment seemed to touch a nerve somehow, because the sergeant adjusted his posture slightly, but didn't answer. His gaze was still distant, almost caught by the patterns of shadow on the floor.
"Soap!" she called, this time her tone slightly louder, a smile hidden in her lips curled with concern.
MacTavish slowly turned his head to face her, his clear blue eyes almost in shadow flooding hers. She knew he was the ghost haunting the battle that must be raging in his head.
"Where's my Johnny?" she asked him more softly, her fingers still pressed firmly into the hot hollow of his neck.
"Aye, I'm here, hen. Sorry. Just... bad news." he croaked quietly in reply, cracking a smile, the tone something quite different from his usual energy. Resentment, perhaps, regret.
Yael closed the laptop with a sharp gesture, placing it on the ground, adjusted her back against the old cushions that adorned the armrest and made space. Outside and inside herself.
"Come here. Close your eyes, relax." she breathed with a devotion she struggled to recognize in her own voice, her arms open, her body ready to accept his light and heavy presence at the same time, weighed down by whatever fragility he wanted to give her.
She was surprised by that look of surrendered sea silk in her own, a spark that just rekindled behind his extinguished eyes. Soap entrusted himself to her without hesitation, almost as if he had done nothing else in his life but dedicate it to her.
The crested head lightly impacted against her sternum, his broad back pressed against her abdomen as the boy's rough hands clung to her legs. Yael just slipped her fingers into the black t-shirt and let herself be guided by those contracted muscles, by the need embedded in those tense and knotted fibers at the base of the broad neck.
The more strength she put into her fingers, the more the sergeant's breathing became regular, occasionally letting out a few hoarse groans from his full lips.
"Take a deep breath, Johnny." Yael ordered him tenderly, in a low voice, without getting tired of tracing those attractive contours with her clear eyes, now familiar to her heart.
The sergeant obeyed.
The doctor watched the broad chest rise, hold the breath deep in the lungs, before releasing it slowly, slowly between the barely parted lips.
"Bonnie..." the sergeant sighed, making her shiver, his tone almost broken, as the muscles in his neck began to relax under her fingers.
Over time, Yael had come to understand that for Johnny, physical contact was a paramount, essential for his psychological well-being, perhaps to send Soap MacTavish back into hibernation, until the next deployment.
"Shhh. I'm here for you." she interrupted him softly, her heart aching, letting her small and warm hands continue to work on their hold at a pace that mimicked his breathing.
In the same way, Yael felt herself drowning in that warm and sweet sea of words they had spoken to each other since she had known him, words she had never spoken in her life and that no one had ever spoken for her.
She felt caught, domesticated, like a nightingale that had been free and wild until that moment. And yet, she didn't care.
As Johnny's last resistance gave way, crumbling like rubble to the howl of the wind, she was surprised to find that she had left many of her own behind.
She only realized it when, in the silence, broken by the ticking of the clock and Johnny's breathing, she distinctly heard, albeit distantly, her own voice singing a melody.
She felt herself flush.
"Christ, hen, the things ye do tae me..." the sergeant muttered, a husky growl vibrating indiscreetly from his broad chest straight into her bones.
MacTavish turned his head slightly, still leaning back on her shoulder, and began to gently rub his forehead against her face. His soft lips brushed her cheek, his warm breath tickling her neck, forcing her to look at him.
He was searching for her. Desperately. He craved that last connection with her, perhaps to willingly fall apart in her arms, lulled by the comfort of those lips just inches from his. His scent so intense it made her head spin.
"Open your eyes, Johnny."
It was an order again, although there was a gentle sweetness woven into it, almost a regret. Once again the sergeant obeyed and a flash of cerulean flame engulfed her, warm as the furnace of a forge. Finally, relief, comfort.
"There you are." Yael smiled at him, her fingers reaching for the curve of his jaw, up to his shaved scalp, to the strands of his mohawk.
MacTavish hesitated for what seemed like an eternity. His blue irises tracing the contours of her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. Surrendered to her touch, his massive body abandoned to hers, his warm and steady breath on her face.
It seemed almost impossible to her the way he had entrusted himself to her, a man who, in all probability, should be unstoppable on the battlefield. Instinctive, precise, courageous, lethal.
And yet, there he was, the broad line of his shoulders pressed against her chest, his huge biceps relaxed on her knees. Vulnerable.
"Sing for me, bonnie."
The tremor in his voice was gone. He was calm, confident, resolute.
The words exploded on her skin with the power of a grenade.
___________________________
Here I am back again in the notes!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, especially the first part where you get to know our Johnny a little better through Yael's eyes.
He is a character that I care deeply about, so I hope I have done justice to his sunny, courageous, slightly impulsive and extremely intelligent character (yes, Soap is very intelligent even though he is often relegated to the role of sidekick or portrayed as an idiotic caricature... guys, the dude is an expert in explosives...).
Today I also leave you with a song to listen to along with the chapter, if you like:
And also a little surprise... a moodboard inspired by the story! I love editing, so I hope you like it ^ *^ You can find everything on my Instagram (linked in bio).
Bonus: what distracted Yael in the car... well, I'll leave you guessing!