I flinched when Price's hand flashed out and thumped against my armoured chest as I was walking into the bird. It gave me such a start, not only his touch, but realizing it was him who had reached out, that it brought a fierce shade of pink to my cheeks. "Yes, sir?" I asked.

The Captain narrowed his eyes. "Are you ready for this?"

"I have been for more than a month, sir," I replied. "I'm tired of waiting. Let's go!"

Price dropped his hand to his side. "Don't do anything stupid on this trip; not that my hopes are very high anyway."

I hadn't been allowed to get into fights yet, despite passing all of my training with flying colours. The least Price owed me was a little trust. I shook my head as I got inside the helicopter and sat down next to Ghost. I didn't like that he treated me like this. Part of me wanted to think it was because he was looking out for me, but another part of me was sure it was because he still thought I could screw things up and get all of them killed. 

But there was only one way to prove him wrong, and that was showing him that I could do this.

The cold, damp night clung to us like inky water as we stalked through the mist. I held my rifle under my arm, my (y/e/c) eyes darting around at every Russian whisper. Ultranationalists were everywhere; it like an infestation.

No one made a sound, fixing themselves into positions over the small village and watching over every enemy movement. There was something just so satisfying about hovering over my prey without their knowledge.

A bright white light caught Soap's face and all of the Ultranationalists began to panic, barking coarse commands at each other, and the team began firing. I aimed into the field, picking off a few tangos until I felt the sting of a bullet across my collarbone. Lucky; that could have been much worse.

But in shock, I fell from my post atop a balcony of an evacuated house. I dashed away as a Russian took off after me. I wasn't about to be caught on my first mission.

Desperate cries rang over the com. "I'm out; cover me!" "I'm backed in a corner! Someone come help me out!" "I'm hit!"

I skidded under a stone bridge, barely managing to shake that stupid tango. I looked around, realizing that the cries were growing faint, but the Russian whispers were still as audible as ever. My hands squeezed around my rifle, which was empty now. I scrambled to reload, but the second I released the last magazine, I heard sharp whispers overhead; they'd heard me. I couldn't move.

I flinched when I caught movement across the small brook under the bridge. Who the hell was that? I jerked my rifle upward.

Price put up a flat palm and swiped his finger to his lips with the other hand. I breathed out a sigh of relief, and then set my brows. What was he doing out here?

He stepped out from under the bridge and looked up to see what the Ultranationalists were doing. His hand held its position, commanding me to stay where I was. 

After far too many moments of silence I stepped into the pale beams of moonlight and stood at his side. "Why are you out here?" I whispered in his ear.

The Captain was breathing huskily, only that giving away his lack of collection. "Why are you out here?" he hissed back.

"I didn't want to get shot again." I growled. "Plus, I had one of those damned Russkies on my tail. His blue eyes shot over to me. "You got shot?"

I shrugged. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. Now tell me, why are you here?"

He huffed again. "... I'm out, and I lost my mags in the dark when I got in a tangle with one of those tangos."

"Damn..."

"You need to get yourself taken care of." he said eventually. "You're bleeding; I can see it." he said, glancing at my wounded collarbone. 

"I said I'm fine." I whispered.

A light zoomed over our heads and Price ducked. "Get out of here." he warned.

"I'm not going anywhere; I can fight just as well as you can, with or without a graze wound. Let me fight!"

He turned a fierce look to me, and I stepped backwards away from him. Price was walking towards me, a bit fast, now, but before I could apologize for me resistance, he jumped at me, pushing me backwards to the ground under the bridge. "Get down!" he whispered shrilly just before landing on top of me. 

Just as we landed, we could hear another group Russians trotting by us, somehow passing over our hiding spot as they stopped to talk to the patrol on the bridge. There was nowhere to run now, and it looked like they were closing in on us. I was gripping his arms, looking past his shoulder at what was happening. 

My eyes then turned to meet his, as if to ask him, "what now?" These were likely our last moments, and I was scared to death.

He took one last look over his shoulder, then looked back at me. His muscular arms squeezed tight around me, holding me safely against him as he bowed his head against mine. Then, gently, he put his mouth on mine in a tame, but deeply affectionate kiss. 

My head was spinning. I was in so much shock, at first I wasn't sure what to do. 

So I deepened it.

We lay in breathless affection, too scared to move or breathe in case our lives were stripped from us in that very moment. I kept my arms wrapped tightly around him, and he kept me hidden in his, the tips of his fingers playing across my lower back as if to say a first and last confession of love.

The footsteps suddenly moved away, and were soon gone. Silence surrounded us, as did an overwhelming sense of relief.

John broke the kiss with a desperate gasp, his head bowing into my neck. I could feel his ribs rapidly expanding and compressing over his heaving lungs. "Oh... My God..." he breathed. "I can't believe we survived that..."

I was weakly rubbing the heated blush from my cheeks. "Yeah... Me neither...."

He rolled onto his back, took a breath, and then stood up, pulling me to my feet. "Well, uh... We should probably get out of here, and see if we can't find the others."

Later, we had finally made it out of the village with the persona we had come for: some whiny little Russian bloke who smelled far too strongly of vodka, and somehow had a very lithe, but frail appearance. He was secured in the back of the bird with a bag over his head, through which many worried phrases in broken English could be heard. 

We landed just as the play pink and gold rays of dawn poked through the blue clouds, and Ghost was dragging the informant out my the bound wrists. "Good Lord, this bleeding rat won't shut up! Price, what shall I do with him?"

"You and Soap can have your first go at him; I'll ask questions in a little while." he replied.

 I had barely gotten out of the hangar with my supplies when John grabbed my arm gingerly. I looked back at him with surprise. "Yes, sir?"

His face looked a bit off, like he was suppressing a giddy smile. "You did very well this time. I'm impressed." The smile he was holding off them broadened. "Maybe we can find some time to continue that kiss?"