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A loud rapping stirred me from my sleep, my eyes slowly fluttered open as they lazily traveled to the direction of the door. Slight disorientation plagued my consciousness as another series of knocks sounded out through the small room, followed by one loud, annoying Scottish voice. "Lass up and at em'," Soap screamed, still fucking knocking, "We got a location!" Groaning loudly, I grabbed a pillow next to me and harshly slammed it over my ears. Clenching my eyes shut, I prayed Soap would do me a favor and fuck off. "Lass! I know you can hear me," Soap yelled, his knuckles still smacking against the wood separating us. I'd be fucking baffled if his hand wasn't bleeding, holy fuck. "Las-" I cut Soap off immediately. "FUCKING OKAY!" I screamed in return, propping myself on my elbows with a huff. 

Soap snickered and finally stopped knocking, "Always a peach," he laughed, as if it was the funniest thing in the universe, before I heard his footsteps retreat. Rolling my eyes, I yawned loudly before patting the bed next to me, expecting to feel Simon's rock hard body beneath my touch. But I was met with cold sheets. My eyebrows furrowed as my eyes darted around the room, my chest beginning to tighten. "Simon?" I mumbled quietly as I slowly sat myself completely upright, a strangled wince falling from my lips as the ache between my thighs made itself known. "Simon?" I desperately called out, praying I'd hear his gruff, British voice, but was met with no answer in return. The realization that he'd left me, left after he'd promise he'd stay, stung like hell. 

It felt like a gallon of ice cold water had been dumped on my body, freezing my blood and hindering my movements. It was like I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Tears prickled my waterline, my lip began to quiver as reality struck into me like lightning, electrifying my nerve endings and wracking my body with an undeniable hurt. I had given my most intimate self to him, and he had left me, used me. "No," I whispered softly, my voice choking up. Tears traveled down the smooth contours of my face, dripping from my jaw and onto the white sheets that Ghost once shared with me. Where Ghost had fucked me and then fucked me over. As if I meant nothing to him. 

Angrily wiping my tears, I shook my head, I was being stupid. I should've known better. Silly, stupid fucking me. Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, I forced myself to stand upright. Forced myself to box away my feelings like I always have, to lock them inside and throw away the key, never to be found or touched again. But why was it so hard now? Why was it so hard to accept the fact that Simon simply did not care? Not about anybody, and especially not about me. My eyes slowly looked into the direction of the door as I took a deep shaky breath, almost wishing Simon was on the other side of it, moments away from knocking and telling me he had only left to bring me back a fucking coffee. Wishful thinking. Delusion. He didn't care. 

Redirecting my attention back down to the floor, my shirt and panties laid ripped up at my feet. More tears began to brim my eyes as I recounted everything that had happened. While I felt love, all he must've felt was lust. With all the strength I could muster, I bent down and interlocked my fingers around my cargo pants before stepping into them, sliding my socks on my feet after, followed by my combat boots. Guess today I'd be going commando. How awesome. Rolling my watery eyes, I made my way over to the small closet directly to my left, just hoping the universe would at least let it contain a shirt my size. As I opened the door, I was seconds away from losing my complete and utter mind. Who have I pissed off up there that just has it out for me? Stacked neatly in front of me laid three different shirts in three different colors in one fucking size. XL. 

"Of fucking course," I hissed under my breath before growling curses to myself. My hand reached out and snatched an army green shirt that was about four times bigger than my size. Inwardly fuming, I yanked the fabric over my head and promptly tucked the excess into my pants. It looked like I wearing a fucking diaper. Shaking my head, I stomped over to my gear and put it on, still mumbling profanities to myself. Today was not my day, that much was for fucking certain. Firstly, Simon quite literally fucked me. Secondly, I looked like a complete buffoon. Quickly I made my way over to the door, just wanting to leave the room I stood in and the painful memories I had made it in behind. Glancing over my shoulder for just a second, I bit my lip before turning the handle and walking straight out, letting the door slam shut. 

My eyes flitted toward the direction of the briefing room, where I'd assumed everyone was currently waiting for me. Where Simon would probably be. My chest tightened again, tears begged to form but I blinked them away. Never show weakness. Los Vaqueros soldiers nodded in my direction as I made my way through Alejandro's extensive base. Nighttime was beginning to fall, the crisp air surrounding me chilled my bones, but that feeling took backseat in my occupied mind. My thoughts mostly contained either Simon or... no, just mostly that British fucking asshole. "Why me?" Was the only question running through my head. Why does this shit only happen to me? Why did Simon leave me? Why didn't Simon care about me? Me, me, me. Why, why why? An endless loop, a broken record. 

Before I knew it, I stood in front of a door that led to a room I had only just been in earlier this day. Where my heart raced, where Simon stared at me with a longing expression, where I felt a mixture of emotions. Now, I only felt one: Betrayal. As I stepped inside, all eyes fell on me. Except one pair, except Simon's. "Good you're here," Alejandro chuckled before motioning toward an empty seat right next to Simon. My chest hurt at just the sight of him, my heart feeling like it was slowly being ripped from my chest by his large, calloused hands. Beating in his palm before it flatlined, and he just simply would not care. Shaking my head, I looked back over at Alejandro, "I can stand," I replied, my voice sounding more choked up than I would've preferred. 

With a confused expression, Alejandro nodded and proceeded with what I assumed was important information. Only some keywords filtered through my mind. "Gulf of Mexico", "Oil rig", "Missiles", and so on. I did my best to pay attention, to absorb every bit of information that was thrown my way, but that effort proved to be futile. My eyes continuously wandered to where Simon sat, almost hoping he'd be looking right back at me. But he never was. The only thing that truly grabbed my attention was the mention of Al-Qatala. "The rig will be heavily guarded by AQ soldiers, they will protect this missile with their lives," Alejandro darkly stated, his lips pulling together. It didn't take a genius to recognize how everyone was doing their best not to look over at me. My eyes fell to the floor and I remained silent. What could I possibly say? "Don't worry guys, this time I won't fuck everything up?" Hell no. 

After some more talk about nautical miles, whatever the fuck that means, and the different boat teams, everything was quickly wrapped up. "Let's go get that missile," Soap chirped with a cheeky grin, everyone glanced in his direction and completely disregarded him, a smile tugged at my lips. Rolling my eyes, I flashed Soap a thumbs up as he stood up and followed everyone out of the room, he glared at me in return before grinning. Immediately my heart rate spiked when I realized it was only me and Simon left inside, alone, together. My eyes followed where he stood as he began to filter through the door behind the others. 

My mouth ran dry as I quickly approached him, grabbing his arm and attempting to turn him around to face me. His muscles beneath my fingers tensed up as he instantly yanked his arm from my grasp, not even bothering to glance in my direction. My eyebrows furrowed as I bit at my lip, reaching out again, but being met with the same response. "Simon-" I went to speak but he cut me off. Finally, he looked down at me, his gaze hardening the minute it met my confused, saddened features. "It's Lieutenant to you," he hissed bitterly, his voice dripping with malice I hadn't heard in a long time. My mouth fell open as tears blurred my vision. "Bu-" I went to talk again, but he held his finger in front of my face, cutting me off harshly, "Unless you have any input on the mission, I suggest you stop talking Y/L/n," he snarled before walking off.

My heart had finally been ripped out, Si-Ghost took it with him as he stormed off, leaving me broken behind him. My lip quivered as sobs desperately begged to be released from deep in my throat, but by the grace of God himself, I managed to hold them back. Somehow I also kept tears from filling my eyes, wiping away any stragglers than broke free against my iron will. Slowly, I walked through the door, making my way toward the SUV, my vision remaining downcast the entire time. The minute the vehicle came into view, I made my way into it, ignoring Soap and Alejandro as they tried to talk to me, to ask me what was wrong. I remembered when I wasn't such an open book, remembered when I could hide everything I felt. What was happening to me? I was changing. For the better or worse? For right or wrong? For good or bad? I couldn't tell. 

The car ride felt excessively long, and I was only glad we took the bigger SUV so I wouldn't have to be squished in the middle, so I wouldn't have to feel my Lieutenant's body pressed against mine. The moon illuminated the world passing us by, its soft glow was something I wished I could bask in. For my problems to melt away beneath its calming abilities. Shaking my head, I looked into my lap instead, remaining silent and paying no mind to the conversations around me. The sound of slamming doors all around caught my attention, my head shooting upright. We had already pulled into a dock with three military speed boats floating above the deep, ocean water below. Graves was speaking with Alejandro, using more hand gestures than necessary in the most annoying way possible. Rolling my eyes at the interaction, I exited the vehicle as well, Soap's chatter directed at me going in one ear and out the other. 

My skin began to go pale as I stared into the inky blue water, my legs starting to tremble. What the hell was up with all this water related bullshit we've been doing? For a moment I could've sworn I saw my Lieutenant taking a step in my direction at the sight of my scared form, but he never approached, and maybe it was all just in my delusional head. Soap patted my back, ripping me from my fear-filled stupor, "Don't you worry lass, you'll be a'right," he reassured, shaking my shoulders slightly. Narrowing my eyes down in his direction, I turned my attention onto him, "If I go down you better bet your ass you're coming down with me," I muttered under my breath, earning a grin from him. "I don't doubt that," he replied in return before making his way over to one of the boats. 

Groaning loudly, I realized maybe this obvious near death experience would be enough to take my mind off my Lieutenant. So I guess it really wasn't all that bad. Shakily, I stepped into one of the small speed boats, almost knocking straight into a Shadow. What a dumb fucking name. One of Graves' soldiers. "You alright?" The soldier asked me, his American accent prevalent. "Oh just great," I mumbled in reply before latching onto a handrail as tightly as I could. "Yeah, I'd hold on," the soldier chuckled before revving the fucking boat engine. My eyes narrowed down at him, but before I could very loudly complain, the boat lurched forward causing me to yell.  Ghost's large body running up to the side of the pier caught my attention, but that couldn't have because of me. He didn't care. 

The ocean waters were raging, waves looked to be almost reaching eight feet tall. The salt from them crashing onto the boat clung to my skin and hair, the intense storm above us did little to wash away the sticky feeling. Thunder boomed in the distance, shaking the already unstable ground beneath my feet. This must be hell. Rain whipped and slapped against my face the closer we got to the oil rig, the little silhouettes of soldiers grew larger in the distance the nearer we became. "Eyes on the rig," Soap's voice cut through the comms, the words almost drowned out by the loud crash of waves and ear piercing booms of lightning. My entire body shook, this was fucking insanity. What if there's a fucking tsunami? At this point fuck the missile, if they have it who fucking cares. Cursing loudly, I watched as my boat and Alejandro, Soap, and Graves' boat pulled up to the edge of the rig before halting to a stop. 

Reaching into my pack, I pulled out my grappling hook, letting it fly upwards before it latched onto the rig above me. The Shadow directly to my right did the same thing, gripping the small device that would aid in his ascent up the thick, beige rope. Mimicking his actions, my hands grasped around my own handle, just praying the damn rope wouldn't fucking snap because God knows that's how my luck has been going thus far. Glancing over to my left, I watched as Soap and Alejandro sent their own hooks up, Graves and Ghost waiting behind them. Clicking a small button, my feet levitated off the ground as my body ascended, bringing me all the way up to the edge of the rig, the minute I met solid ground, the biggest sigh of relief expelled itself from my lungs. 

"All Shadows the missile is on this platform," Graves called out through the comms, his voice attempting a whisper. My eyes fell on the rest of the group as I met up with them, along with the other Shadow from before. Soap smiled at me, "Told you you'd be fine," he grinned. Rolling my eyes, I flashed him a sarcastic smile as I pulled my rifle off my back, the metal feeling more slippery in my hands as rain coated it. Alejandro jerked his head in one direction, motioning toward the different stairwells. We all nodded in reply and agilely made our way toward them, sending off controlled bursts of gunfire at anyone who got in our way. At the Al-Qatala soldiers. At my old comrades. Shaking my head, I imagined them for who they really were. Terrorists. Not that I was much better, the soldiers shooting at us had been me at one point. But now it wasn't. Didn't that at least mean something?

Deciding to save that dilemma for another day, I kept my rifle close to my chest, pointing it out defensively. Rain continued to slap against my exposed skin making me wish I had brought some sort of damned water proof jacket. Rolling my eyes, I kept them peeled as different Al-Qatala soldiers aimed their weapons at me, moments away from sending a deadly shot, but I was faster, dropping them in mere seconds. But then, something caught my eye. Something that made my body freeze more than the icy rain ever could. My limbs became rigid, unmoving, my gun shaking in my hand as I watched a bullet fly past my face straight into the Shadow behind me. His strangled cry was completely drowned out from the blood rushing in my ears. His body doubling over past the platform couldn't steal my attention from who stood before me, weapon in hand.

Blaze.