Chapter Text
Ghost had shifted their position to the couch, settling Noah in as he heard the shower start running. He ensured Periwinkle was secure in Noah’s arms, wanting him to have any and every inch of comfort he may need for this conversation. The next step forward was to remove his mask, almost pocketing it before remembering Soap’s words from the night before. Instead, he tossed it beside the coloring book on the table as his anxiety steadily rose.
To say Ghost’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest would be a vast understatement, his pulse thumping away in his ears. Knowing the right words to say had never exactly been Ghost’s strong suit, and now it was more important than ever to say the right thing. The last thing he wanted to do was mince words beyond comprehension or simply drop this revelation on the poor kid, but where the hell was the middle ground? What the hell was the middle ground?
A lump was forming in his throat, preventing anything from getting out, let alone the right thing, and Noah was still looking up at him expectantly. The silence stretched on, with Ghost about a hair’s breadth away from breaking into stress sweats.
“Simon?” Noah finally said, worrying his bottom lip and fidgeting with Peri’s fluffy little paws. His expression quickly morphed from anticipatory to concerned, maybe even scared.
Shit.
“Am I in trouble?” The boy whispered, pulling his hedgehog close now.
Shit. Fuck.
“No! No, no, of course you’re not in trouble, kiddo. You’re fine.” Ghost spat out quickly, bringing his hands up in what he hoped was a vaguely soothing gesture. “It’s just… You know how Miss Elanor said your mum wanted me to care for you?”
Noah nodded, his eyes tracking across Ghost’s face as he took in the words, but otherwise remained quiet.
Ghost swallowed, “Well, I wanted to tell you more about why that is, why she chose me specifically.”
Again, Noah remained silent. It reminded Ghost of himself, holding back on commentary preferably until after he had the whole picture. His son was just the same, it seemed. He wasn’t loud, but he was listening and taking everything in before revealing his thoughts. Another point for nature over nurture.
But Ghost was halfway to convincing himself this was already going wrong. After all, Eliza rarely came up. Simon didn’t want to upset Noah, and Noah only mentioned his mum tearfully after nightmares, begging for her to come back. So, he needed to check in, needed to make sure Noah was okay so far.
“Is that alright?”
“I think so.” Noah nodded, releasing the grip on his stuffie ever so slightly.
Okay, this was it. Just get it out, just fucking say it. Well, maybe not just, but bloody say something.
Ghost took a deep breath through his nose. “Your mum and I were friends a long time ago. We went to the same secondary school but got a little closer after graduating.” That wasn’t a lie, right? No stop. The point of this was not Ghost’s internal crises.
“We went on dates, um, we dated for a while before I left for my current job. You know, we saw movies, had dinner together, that sort of thing, yeah?”
Noah appeared to follow along still, if his little nod was anything to go by but was clearly starting to lose the thread, his eyes flicking away.
“Well, after I went away for work… I’m part of the SAS, a soldier in the military, and I have to travel far away all over the world a lot of the time.” Ghost could practically hear Soap saying ‘Steamin’ jesus, Lt, get tae the point’.
“Anyways, um, your mum wrote me a letter that Ms. Turner, from the Justice Centre, gave me.” He paused now, thinking over his following words. Shifting blame about his absence onto a dead woman felt fucked up, and all his tiptoeing around the headliner of this conversation was taking him in that direction. It was time to just say it.
“I was able to bring you here and start to take care of you because… Because I’m your dad. You were born after I had to go away. But I’m your father, Noah.” Ghost held his breath now, watching the way Noah’s face smoothed over in surprise and then confusion before going a little blank.
“Okay.” He finally said.
“Okay?” Ghost balked, unsure what this lack of reaction meant. “Do you have questions? About me or your mum and me? Anything you want to ask is okay, kiddo.”
He tried not to let any worry into his tone. If the kid just needed time to process, that was okay, but Ghost knew firsthand how things could spiral out of control when internalized, tucked away to never see the light of day. He didn’t want Noah to harbor feelings or feel like he had to bury them away.
“Can I…” Noah trailed off and leaned away from his guardian, his dad, his little frame sinking into the back of the couch as he pulled Peri up to his cheek.
“Can you what, kiddo?” Ghost reached out slowly and grabbed the edge of the cushion Noah was sitting on to let him know he was there without encroaching too much on the space he might need.
But Noah just shook his head, practically rolling onto his stomach to get farther away, and Simon pulled his hand back, an unpleasant weight settling in his chest.
“You can tell or ask me anything, especially right now. I know this might be confusing, but feeling that way is okay. I promise you won’t get in trouble.” Ghost managed, his throat tight again.
The silence that settled between them was almost physically painful, making Ghost feel like he was being flayed open with a sense of failure. He just dropped Noah into this whirlwind and clearly wasn’t adequately equipped to help him out of it.
“Can I ask about Mummy?” Noah whispered at long last, his voice barely audible through where his face must have pressed into Peri or the cushions he shielded himself with.
The answer was easy here: Simon would do his best to answer everything truthfully and openly, even to his own detriment, if it meant helping his son. But before he could open his mouth to respond, the boy spoke again.
“Miss Elanor didn’t like it. She said no talking about Mummy.”
The rage that swept over Ghost almost had him up and marching to the foster home to demand what the fuck had gone on that Noah felt like he couldn’t talk about his own fucking mother, his whole fucking world. Why in the bloody hell would she tell him that?
At the lack of answer, Noah peeked over his shoulder, looking askance at Simon as if this had all been a trap to get him in trouble, and he had to let that anger go. Elanor had seemed like a fine foster mother, so maybe there was miscommunication here, but either way, Ghost was absolutely not going to let that thought pattern continue.
“If you want to talk about her or ask me questions about her, that’s okay. I know you miss her; I miss her too.” Even if Eliza and Ghost hadn’t truly been close, her loss was still a finger pressing into the hardly healed over wound that was this whole fucking city and all the people he had lost here. “But talking about those feelings and your mum is okay.”
“Did Mummy ask you to come home to see me?”
Alright, they were headed down this road anyway. Ghost glanced back towards the bathroom, noticing now that the shower had stopped, but the door was still closed. It made him wonder how committed Johnny was to staying in there. He almost wished he had asked his sergeant to help. Almost.
“I don’t think it was that easy, little one.” Ghost said gently, trying to think of ways to put something like this into the perspective of a six-year-old.
Noah turned back again that uncertainty returning to his expression, but he slowly lowered the hedgehog stuffie to listen intently to what else Simon would say.
“Have you ever done something you were afraid to tell someone? Maybe you accidentally broke a toy and were afraid to tell your mum?”
Simon waited patiently for Noah to think that over. The boy pursed his lips as he wiggled around on the couch and processed the questions. “I dropped my friend’s book in a puddle once.” He nodded. “I didn’t want to tell her because I didn’t want her to be mad.”
“It’s a bit like that. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the truth, even if it’s the right thing to do. Sometimes it has us scared or worried, and your mum just wanted you… She wanted both of us to be happy and was trying to figure out the best way to do that, I think.”
“But isn’t that like lying?” Noah frowned, folding his legs under himself to sit up on his knees.
Ghost tilted his head to the side and back, tension tightening the muscles of his neck. This was a horrible jigsaw puzzle of a situation, and it seemed like every time he got a piece put in the right place, another would fall out of alignment.
“A little, but sometimes there are things that are better to tell your friends or grownups about right away. Like your friend’s book or when something bad happens, and you need help. But other things are hard to say, and it takes a long time to find the courage to do it.” He really didn’t feel like he was making a fucking lick of sense, and Noah was now back to nodding quietly. Ghost prayed it was in understanding and not because he was so confused that he didn’t know what to say.
“I think what’s important is that I’m here now, and I will take care of you. I’m happy I get to be here for you now. Is that okay? How do you feel about that?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Noah said softly, his shoulders slumping forward. “I don’t know. Sometimes I’m sad, but you’re nice, and so is Soap. I like it here, and I don’t want to go somewhere else again.”
Simon nodded, reaching his hand out in another little test. When his son leaned towards him instead of away this time, he carefully reached out to tuck him gently into his side. “You don’t have to go anywhere else, kiddo. I promise I’ll be here for you.”
“Si-,” A pause. “Can we have pizza for dinner again?” Noah looked up at Ghost, who took that as a sign to wrap this conversation up, that Noah had reached his limit.
“Sure, we can do that.” At least that meant Ghost could stretch their groceries another day and worry about the supermarket tomorrow. “And, Noah? You can still call me Simon. You don’t have to worry about calling me anything other than Simon if you don’t want to. Change is tricky, yeah?”
With that, he got another nod, “Yeah… Can I finish my butterfly?” Noah pointed to his still-open coloring book on the table.
“Of course. Just let me know if you have more questions. You asked some good ones today, but you can always ask more.”
Noah pulled away to retake his spot on the floor, snatching up the purple marker now and getting right back to his coloring. Simon was left to stare momentarily, relatively pleased with how that went. There was no shouting, no tears, so that was good, right?
He had probably handled it as well as a poor sod like him could, but it still felt like there was a weight on his shoulders. Probably some ingrained fear of the eventuality of the other shoe dropping, some sort of disbelief that he did this right or well enough. He just had to trust that Noah would come to him with anything he needed down the road. Had to be okay with things being out of his control.
Ghost sighed, checking the bathroom door once again. He should probably let Soap know he didn’t have to hide himself in there any longer.
“I’m gonna go check on Johnny, okay?” It felt like he had to fight an extra layer of gravity to get up. “Make sure Soap had enough soap for his silly haircut.”
Noah smiled and let out a small laugh, “Okay.”
Ghost released a breath and replaced his mask before crossing further into the flat until he was close enough to knock on the bathroom door. At this distance, he could hear the faint buzzing of electric clippers and then silence as Soap presumably switched them off to answer the door.
The lock clicked out of place as the sergeant opened up to reveal himself standing in front of the mirror in jeans and a smattering of loose hairs across his bare chest and the sink below him.
“Lt? How’d it go?” Soap asked with no preamble.
But Ghost was still recalibrating, trying not to drift on what was, probably pessimistically, a sense of doom. And spent a few moments too long taking in Soap’s partly shaved down beard and freshly trimmed and styled mohawk.
“Ghost, are ye alright? Did Noah take it well?”
Simon blinked rapidly, then shrugged, “I’m fine. It went fine. I think, maybe. I don’t fuckin’ know.” He wiped his hand across his face, needlessly adjusting the medical mask.
He ducked his head down a bit, looking off to the side. “I think he needs time to process, and…” Ghost carefully thought over his next words. Something inside him wanted to talk to Johnny about it more, but the rest of him wanted to fall back on old habits and shove everything away that wasn’t in neutral emotional territory.
“And ye do too. We can talk about it later.” Soap said easily. “Let me finish up here, aye?”
With a quick turn, Ghost took a couple steps away. “Make sure you clean up all that bloody hair, sergeant.”
“Right away, sir.” Soap chimed back playfully in response.
Ghost only rolled his eyes, certainly not fighting a smile as he walked away.
-
By the end of the day, the three of them found themselves worn out. With Ghost and Noah having had a tough day emotionally and Soap having eaten way too much fuckin’ pizza.
They were all piled onto the couch again, an older Scooby-Doo animated film playing on the telly. Simon vaguely recognized the plot, and if he had any mental bandwidth left to pay attention to it, it would probably be unlocking long-forgotten childhood memories.
However, Noah was already passed out leaning into Ghost’s side, breathing slow and even, and Ghost wasn’t far behind him. He was pretty confident he was hitting delta waves of sleep, losing time and consciousness without realizing it. Because he swore right before this blink, Shaggy and Scooby were running for their lives from the masked villain, but now Daphne and Velma were talking to some other character Ghost didn’t know the name of.
The next time he woke up, he knew he had fallen asleep. His eyelids were heavy, and his legs stiff. The telly had been turned off, the only light coming from behind the ajar door to the bathroom. Ghost had left it on when they shut off all the other lights to enjoy the movie, in case Noah needed to get up and go.
It took a few seconds to realize his head wasn’t tipped back against the not-so-premium grade IKEA couch cushions anymore, but rather his whole body had listed to the side. Noah was still using him as a pillow, but now he was leaning against something warm, his cheek pressed against softer fabric where the medical mask didn’t cover.
Ghost shifted his face into the feeling before his brain could process what he was doing and seeing. A soft scratching sound brought him back into complete focus, pen on paper, his mind helpfully supplied. Suddenly, he realized the fabric beneath his face wasn’t a pillow or the couch, but Soap’s t-shirt, his strong shoulder keeping Ghost from collapsing entirely.
“Sorry.” Ghost said, his voice rough with sleep, as he tried to pull back gently to avoid waking Noah. Pure force of will and false apathy kept him from jolting away from Soap. Very false apathy, if his suddenly flush face had anything to say about it.
Johnny just hummed in dismissal, that scratching sound now drawing Ghost’s attention to his sergeant’s hands. He leaned back in to get a better look but remained careful to avoid any more contact.
“You sketching?” He couldn’t distinguish what exactly Soap was scribbling in the leather journal Ghost had given him. Furthermore, the dim lighting made it look like a misshapen blob on the paper. He had no idea how Soap could possibly tell what he was doing.
“Oh, ye woke up.” Johnny paused and turned his head towards Ghost. “Sorry, I get so focused in when I draw. What did ye say?”
“Just… sorry.” He whispered, starting to pull back again.
The action seemed to make Soap realize how close they were in the first place, his eyes flicking down toward Ghost’s mask before darting away to look anywhere but at the taller man. “No. I mean, ye dinnae hae to. Ye and Noah,” He abruptly cut down in volume to avoid being loud enough to accidentally wake the boy. “jus’ went doon like dominoes. ‘Nd I didnae wan’ tae wake ye up.” Now Johnny’s words were making up for in speed and accent what they lacked in volume, but he finally paused to breathe and look his lieutenant back in the eye.
“So, I managed tae grab my journal from my duffle without disturbin’ ye. Ye can go back to sleep if ye dinnae want to move Noah just yet.”
Ghost just stared again, trying to wrap his head around how Johnny was making him feel. Vulnerable? Maybe, but that didn’t seem right. It was that warm feeling again, worming its way through his abrasive, protective exterior, right towards his heart.
He barely managed to hold back the instinctual, whether metaphorical or actual, fleeing from this type of situation. Actually talking about it was not happening yet, but- Bloody hell, did he really just tack a ‘yet’ to that sentence?
But he could do Johnny the justice of staying, even if he changed the subject in the process. “Did you bring NVGs from base?” Compromise.
“W-what? NVGs? Why…?”
“Maybe you need some sleep, Johnny.” Ghost chuckled, sitting a little more upright now, but still shoulder to shoulder with Soap and Noah, peacefully asleep. “It’s dark. You’re drawing. An activity that generally requires seeing what you’re doing.”
Soap smiled and rolled his eyes, “Ye ken what I’m gaunnae say, don’t ye.”
Ghost just huffed out a breath. At this point, he did, in fact, know the Scottish slang Soap liked to use to tell him to shut up. That didn’t stop him from wanting to goad it out of the man, though.
At the indignant lack of reaction, Soap leaned back in until their noses nearly brushed. “Haud. Yer. Wheesht.” He said, the smile still playing about his features even if it was no longer on his lips.
Simon laughed; he couldn’t help it. The fluttering in his stomach turned into laughter bubbling up and out into their quiet conversation. “English, MacTavish.”
“Ye ken what it means.” Johnny elbowed him, trying to hide another glance down to where Ghost's mask his the lower half of his face.
“Possibly, but I think you just like to hear me say that.” He quipped just as he felt Noah start to stir at his side. Ghost looked back down, gently carding his fingers through Noah’s blonde waves of hair. He should probably ask if he was interested in a haircut any time soon. “I should get this one to bed.”
“Guess my night vision will hae to remain a mystery for now, Lt.”
“For now.” Ghost relented, gently gathering his son up in his arms as he stood. “I’ll get him to bed, then throw the takeaway boxes out.”
“Ah, dinnae worry about it. I can fold them down and toss them in with the recycling. G’night, Ghost.”
“Night, Johnny.”