Chapter Text
-The Uncharted Yearning-
The door shuddered on its hinges as Gaz flung it open, the force of his entry echoing through Soap’s quarters.
“Can’t believe you would f*cking say that your new 2IC!” fury radiating off him like heat. He spun around to confront the other man, who had just entered, and closed the door with a heavy thud.
Soap flinched at the outburst, his bitterness hardening his response. "He's not a real second-in-command anyway," he mumbled, his voice laced with a defensive edge. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away from Gaz. Shame, a tight knot in his throat, twisted with a burgeoning anger.
“It doesn't matter, he was put in charge, and you just pissed off on his biology like it was nothing!”
“I know,” Soap confessed, his voice low.
Gaz's jaw clenched as he took in the sight of Soap. The man slumped against the closet in a picture of dejection. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and his shoulders drooped in defeat. For a moment, Gaz felt the urge to hug and give him comfort, but he held his ground.
"Spit it out, Soap," Gaz demanded, impatience lacing his voice. “Why did you do it?”
Soap's tongue clicked against his teeth, a nervous tic betraying his agitation. Those fiery eyes, usually blazing with defiance, were now fixed resolutely on the floor. "I just...don't know," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
“The hell you do!” Gaz argued, "You don't just pull a stunt like that on a whim. There's more to it."
A surge of anger pulsed through Soap, a bitter taste rising in his throat. ‘I hated the way he looked at you’, he wanted to scream.
“He was being disrespectful by flirting with you,” Soap finally forced out, his voice a low growl. The muscles of his jaw rippled under his skin.
“Not the first time that happens,” Gaz countered, dismissing him with a gesture of his hand. “And you’ve never acted like this before”
"I just..." Soap choked back the words he truly wanted to say. ‘I wanted him to see me too.’ A suffocating tightness constricted his chest, making it difficult to breathe. "You were flirting back," he muttered, crossing his arms in a defensive stance.
Gaz remained silent for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken tension. “Don’t play that game with me, Soap, that’s horsesh*t,” he finally said, his voice low. He turned away, a physical barrier against the emotions threatening to surface. A faint blush crept up his neck, betraying his attempt at indifference. “You never cared about who flirts with me or not”
‘This one scares me’
Soap raked a hand through his mohawk, the gesture a nervous tic betraying his churning emotions. His stomach felt hollow, a physical manifestation of his desperation. The air felt too tight against his skin, suffocating him. Gaz was right, of course. He knew it deep down, a truth he refused to acknowledge even to himself.
He craved Ghost's attention, that warm gaze focused on him again. The ease with which Ghost interacted with Gaz twisted a knot in his gut. It defied logic. He'd had that before, that singular focus, that all-consuming connection, before he pushed him away, In any other instance he would’ve taken the bloke, f*cked him o let him rail his scottish ass, and be done with the man before he asked for his name or phone number.
Instead, he had reacted with violence that he usually directed to enemies only. He tried to wrap his mind around it, why had this creature sent his heart into a frenzy he wasn't used to dealing with? Why did it make his skin prickle as if a storm was brewing on the horizon and Soap had nowhere to hide, exposed and naked before it, bracing for the impact of its presence?
“Besides” Gaz added, the tone of his voice, bitter and low. “Have you seen the piece of male he has? Please, he was toying with us, Soap. He doesn't need to look elsewhere.”
Soap narrowed his eyes, another layer of anger burning under his skin. “You still won’t look at yourself in the mirror, Garrick” he growled.
Gaz shook his head, brushing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I'm just saying, I wasn't taking it seriously, maybe he was just being nice because Kate brought us here.” He turned back to Soap, a tired look on his face “And neither should you. Not everyone on earth is going to flirt with us”
“Maybe coming here was a mistake”
“Horsehite again, you already love this place” Gaz lifted a hand when Soap tried to argue. “You need to apologize right now, cause either way you were out of line, and you know it. This isn't you, John”
When Soap remained stubbornly quiet, Gaz let his shoulder drop in disappointment and walked out of his quarters, leaving Soap chewing on his anger and shame alone.
**
Gazing up at the vast expanse of the starry night, Simon sighed. A dull ache throbbed in his chest, an unrelenting grip that refused to loosen despite his deep breaths. The twinkling stars, usually a source of solace, offered little comfort tonight.
His mind kept replaying his argument with the two men, throwing him into a never-ending loop of hurt and self-pity as he tried to figure out what he’d said or done to anger Soap so much.
Sighing again, Simon settled more fully onto the crate. His muscles ached from the awkward position, but the discomfort paled in comparison to the turmoil within. There was no use dwelling on the situation. There was only one answer and he had already gotten it. Soap MacTavish hated him.
The realization slammed into him, a physical blow that sent his heart plummeting. A cold dread that had nothing to do with the cold night crept up his spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
“It's punishment, isn't it?” he murmured into the frigid air, staring at the calm, dark, and cold ocean for an answer he wouldn’t get.
It had to be. Punishment for refusing to let go of his king, knowing what it would do to his mind. He wanted to believe Jonathan that he would be ok, and craved to have faith in his strength. Their love was as wild, and untamed as it was sweet and intoxicating. It couldn’t possibly be so wrong, so illegal. Yet the hate the man had been broadcasting all day after barely knowing him had to be unnatural.
**
Soap's steps echoed down the deserted corridors, with no clear direction, his mind a tangled mess of worry and regret.
He had tried to get Gaz to talk to him but the man hadn’t even bothered to open the door. The prospect of returning to his quarters and stewing in his misery was not an option, so he wandered like a restless spirit adrift in the labyrinthine halls. The compound hummed with residual activity – the low murmur of patrolling soldiers, the distant clack of equipment from the late-night labs. He paid them no mind, lost in his churning thoughts.
Soap pushed open a heavy metal door, escaping the oppressive weight that settled on his shoulders. A blast of arctic air slammed into him, stealing his breath momentarily. He breathed in, closing his eyes as a wave of calm washed over him
Yes, he knew he’d f*cked up bad. He would miss the view of the vast expanse that was the ocean in front of him. He had insulted the Captain’s boyfriend, no less. Soap figured getting kicked out in the morning was a sure thing. But he'd beg Kate to keep Gaz around. It was all Soap's fault, his stupid temper again.
Soap didn't know exactly where he was, but his feet carried him aimlessly, the rhythmic sway of the distant waves and the metallic scrape of his boots on the floor was the only sound in the vast, silent compound. He needed to think, to clear his mind, and figure out what to say to the triton before his ass got shipped back to Scotland.
**
Simon felt his throat locking, his emotions piling up behind the hard lump he couldn’t swallow. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, his legs twitching where he sat, pushing him to walk back inside the compound and find the sergeant. His heart begged for Simon to ask him why he was so angry. It made no sense, he had noticed his flushed cheeks, his pupils eating up the beautiful blue of his eyes. Simon was being nice to Kyle, his words sincere, and yet…
“It's a pretty night, is it?”
Ghost nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around to the voice behind him. He hadn’t heard the approach, and the soft voice startled him.
“Isn’t it past bedtime for you?” he greeted the young sergeant, swallowing hard as he tried to calm the frantic beating of his heart. “Did you get your milk?”
“You’re not funny, Ghostie,” Roach smiled, shaking his head. “Twenty-five, remember? No bedtime for this soldier, ” he added, pride edged in his face.
“You look seventeen,” Ghost muttered, deadpanned, joking to mask the pang of disappointment he felt. Who was he expecting to see?
He’d hoped to find a place where he could hide from the annoying humans wanting to engage in conversation with him, ask questions, maybe apologize for being assholes and perhaps give Simon another chance?
“Right,” Ghost murmured under his breath, rolling his eyes at how pathetic he felt and must’ve looked, moping there, between crates like an abandoned puppy. He let Roach approach, however.
Roach had certain privileges, like completely trashing Simon’s callsign, that walking contradiction – a 6'5" powerhouse disguised as a human, capable of snapping necks like toothpicks.
Not that he would do that to Roach, but still. The young sergeant had warmed off on him in ways Ghost wouldn’t admit under torture.
“Please,” Roach said, smiling as he leaned on the balcony right in front of Ghost. “I’m still trying to grow my beard, just like the Captain suggested, you know? with the oils he mentioned and all?”
“Mhm,” Ghost mumbled. He swallowed hard again at the mention of Jonathan, nearly shuddering under the blade he felt slicing through his heart. He missed Jonathan like the water of the ocean surrounding him, caressing his skin. He wanted to see Soap again!
“You ok, Ghostie?”, Roach frowned, watching the triton rubbing his hair in a frustrated gesture.
“Have your first wet dream before you think about growing a beard.”
Roach tipped his head back and laughed wide at the night. Fresh, relaxed, and always gentle, that was Roach. Not like a certain Scottish Pufferfish…
“f*cking hell, stop” Ghost cursed under his breath, getting another deeper frown from Roach while he adjusted his position again over the crate.
Roach's voice sharpened with concern. "Something's bothering you, Ghost. Is it the Captain? Did something happen?"
Ghost clenched his jaw, the familiar frustration bubbling up. "That's the problem, Roach. In this form, I can't sense his life force at all." He took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising anger. "It leaves me blind, adrift."
A moment of heavy silence stretched between them. Finally, Ghost sighed, the sound laced with a deep longing. "I hate this," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Roach met his gaze with a solemn nod. "Just wanna go home," Ghost added, the words echoing the yearning in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, buddy,”
“Hmm,” Ghost replied with a curt nod. That wasn't exactly true what he’d said, but Roach didn’t need to know that. He wouldn't tell him how many times he had glanced at the hall, waiting for someone else to come find him.
Waiting for Jonathan to rescue him from the hurt. He figured he also didn’t need to admit that home was currently in a very important meeting with another six monarchs who liked to talk like it was the end of the world and would probably be there for days. The thought alone made Simon want to sob in despair, but he would rather die in dry land than let a single soul see that.
**
“I wish you felt more at home with us,” Roach said, glancing at the stars. “You think one day merfolk and humans might be able to coexist in everyday life like we do here?”
“When your governments unite to start protecting the oceans instead of using them as garbage cans, maybe,” Ghost replied, unable to hide the dry tone of his voice. “So, the jury’s still out, as you say?”
“Yeah,” Roach sighed. “Heard you spent some time with the new boys,” He mentioned and wiggled his eyebrows, “What do you think?”
Ah, hell.
‘Beautiful both of them,’ His traitorous mind threw in his face. ‘One hates me. The other will take my love away from me. Bloody f*cking hell’
“They’re fine,” Ghost replied, clearing his throat, and averting his eyes toward the dark horizon.
Roach narrowed his eyes, staring at him as he tilted his head. Ghost cursed under his breath. Damn him and his ability to see past Ghost’s facade.
The young sergeant leaned in, his youthful features etched with concern. “And what else?” he pressed. “This quiet is...different, even for you."
“Don’t know them that well, Roach. They’re fine, that’s it.”
Roach pursed his lips, but he let the matter go, for now. He had heard of Ghost’s strange outbursts back in the cafeteria. Other scientists had seen him nearly fleeing the table and leaving the soldiers open-mouthed and stunned, but nobody had heard or seen anything else.
Instead, he turned around to contemplate the beauty of the ocean lit up by the intense shine of the moon.
“You think?...” Roach began again. “Do we humans have soulmates like you do?”
**
Soap heard the murmuring of voices nearby and his heart jumped inside his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as his legs pushed him in the direction of that raspy male voice that had sent goosebumps rolling over his skin earlier.
He should leave, he knew he should. Instead, he walked slowly, ignoring the way he tried to keep his steps hidden. When he made it to the corner, he leaned his back against the wall, hearing the question Roach made.
**
Ghost felt a tug in his chest, a pull tingling toward the corner in the far right. He kept quiet for a moment, but the intense heartbeat he heard was already unmistakable because it made his heart mirrored the rhythm.
“Yeah, I do.” He replied, knowing they were being overheard. “Humans have a soulmate like we do. You’ve described it well in your stories.”
“I don’t read sappy novels, Lieutenant,” Roach countered, smiling.
"Haven't experienced it, then?" Ghost's voice was a low murmur, laced with a hint of curiosity. "This profound connection, a bond that transcends everything else? It's...powerful. Unrelenting. You can't ignore it, can't escape its pull."
A thoughtful silence descended upon them. "It's a maelstrom," Ghost continued, his voice soft yet intense. "A collision of terror and exhilaration. You know you could run, but the very thought feels wrong. The only solace lies in surrendering, in embracing the warmth, the blinding light it brings. Suddenly, everything else fades. Every breath, every shared moment becomes a universe in itself."
Soap rested his head on the wall, putting a hand over his heart to calm the wild beating inside that threatened to leave him dizzy and sweating.
“It's freedom, and safety,” Ghost continued, “and at the same time, a storm and you’re naked and vulnerable in a way so painful and sweet that you don’t even know how to handle it, but the truth is, you don’t have to. You only have to let yourself be carried away. Then it becomes a gentle wave, but only if you let it happen.”
Roach kept quiet because he didn't know what to say to that.
“It's what I've heard, anyway,” Ghost added, his voice soft and apologetic as he tried to save what little pride or honor he had.
‘Is this how you feel about him?’, Soap would’ve liked to ask, if he were part of the conversation and not spying like he was. Another question sneaked his way into his mind but he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to let it voice it.
“Right,” Roach snorted. “I would like to feel something like that”
“Hmm,” Ghost mumbled, absent-minded as he stared at the corner.
He lowered his gaze a moment later when the heartbeat and stealthy steps moved away from them. His heart plummeted to his stomach and wished he hadn’t left him with such a bittersweet taste in his mouth.
**
The next day blurred by in a tense silence. Gaz was still so upset that even though he stayed by his side, they barely crossed words. Soap found himself stealing glances at his companion.
At his Lieutenant too, but the triton kept a deliberate distance. His orders were now relayed through a new triton, who replaced Keegan.
With his shaved head, 6.2’, and stocky build, Merrick was almost as big and strong as Ghost and just as quiet. His hazel eyes were cold and harsh every time they landed on Soap. The sergeant was certain he knew all about what happened and was only waiting for the opportunity to drown him at the bottom of the ocean.
“Great,” He mumbled to himself. He would have to apologize later if he survived the training and managed to get past the wall of muscle that was Merrick to get to another wall that wouldn’t even look in his direction.
**
By day two of their training, Soap had changed his mind. Merrick didn't want to drown him, he wanted to end the whole bloody team. It reminded Soap of his early training days when he would end up sore and bruised and begging for someone to end his misery quickly.
“I don’t think Merrick had it against you, anymore,” Gaz commented as he got ready to lift his sore body off the mat. “That triton just hates everyone.”
Soap chuckled softly, but the awkward look in Gaz’s eyes prevented him from saying anything. He saw his lover leave without another word, letting sadness wash over him. He had tried to apologize to the lieutenant but the triton avoided him like the Spanish flu.
Soap couldn't deny a flicker of awareness whenever Ghost was near. His cheeks would flare with heat if he lingered too long.
These stolen glances were fleeting, like gentle waves in a calm sea, vanishing the moment Soap's gaze met theirs. A frustrating game of cat and mouse, where Ghost would always be the first to break eye contact, leaving Soap with a tangled mess of emotions.
And if he tried to approach him, Merrick would somehow pop into view, his imposing presence acting like a physical barrier, even Ghost wasn’t looking.
**
At the end of day three, Soap figured he wouldn’t get kicked off the team, only murdered in his sleep when the Captain arrived. A surge of panic flooded Soap when he noticed Ghost's absence. Without a conscious thought, he marched towards Merrick. The triton was standing at the edge of the pool, with his arms behind his back and watching with judgmental eyes at the recruits going through their final exams before they could dive with the mermen.
“Where’s Ghost?”Soap inquired. A couple of feet behind him, Gaz tensed, eyes fixed on the larger male slowly turning his cold gaze towards the sergeant. He was close enough to hear the conversation while he began saving his gear in the backpack, having finished his exercises for the day.
“Not here,” Merrick stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
Soap fought down a tremor that threatened to ripple through his body. The unwavering gaze of the triton sent a prickle across his skin, raising the tiny hairs on his arms. It reminded him of the way sharks would look at their prey, their gaze fixed, dangerous. It was like peering into an abyss of cold darkness.
“He’s hard to miss,” Soap argued. He clenched his jaw, his blood boiling again as faced the challenge the male posed head-on. “I need to talk to him.”
“Not my problem,” Merrick replied, his tone carefully measured.
Soap's hands instinctively formed fists at his sides. The air crackled with unspoken tension constricting their space. Merrick's gaze was now fixed on Soap, a predatory glint flickering within its depths.
“Where can I find him?” Soap pressed, his voice a low growl. Every muscle in his body tensed, coiled for a fight.
Merrick mirrored Soap's movement, taking a deliberate step forward and Gaz, stood frozen, his gaze flicking nervously between the two.
“I hope he’s f*cking some cute boy or girl, down south,” Merrick drawled, a hint of amusem*nt flickering in his eyes, his lips curved in a sardonic smirk. “In Brazil, where they like to go.”
Soap froze in place, the muscles in his body locking down. Merrick, sensing the shift, tilted his head a fraction, his gaze sharpening as if he could right through him.
“Can give you the coordinates, kid,” Merrick continued. “If you’re so desperate to see him.”
“I’m not,” Soap countered, fist tight, the muscles of his jaw trembling under his skin.
“Of course not,” Merrick retorted. He rolled his eyes and went back to keeping an eye on the recruits who were almost done for the day.
“Soap, let’s go,” Gaz murmured in the back when Merrick’s eyes went back to Soap, raising an eyebrow in interest.
“I thought he was f*cking the Captain,” Soap insisted.
“Jesus, Soap,” Gaz hissed, a mix of worry and frustration lacing his voice.
“That would be none of your business, sergeant,” Merrick spoke low, the rumble in his voice scratching against his skin like sandpaper.
Gaz grasped Soap's arm with a firm hand. A jolt of surprise shot through Soap, momentarily breaking his tense focus on Merrick. Gaz's grip was tight, a silent plea for restraint.
Merrick, a predator assessing his prey, held Soap's gaze for a beat too long. The unspoken threat hung heavy in the silence, a palpable weight pressing down on all three men.
“To answer your question, Soap,” Merrick replied. “That shouldn’t stop either of them. Maybe ask yourself why and try again.” He took another step forward, definitely invading Soap’s space. “With some respect next time.”
Soap and Gaz froze on the spot, both men stunned at the revelation of the triton who simply snorted at their open mouths and walked away from them. They saw him yell the last of their orders to the recruits and disappear through the door that led to the open areas and the ocean.
**
Ghost was not in fact in Brazil, although he longed to spend time in their favorite spot, the stunning beaches of Fernando de Noronha. To go without Jonathan, however, was to add salt to the wound.
Instead, he swam back to their colony in the north. It was closer to where the Mer King was but still not close enough to feel his presence or talk to him. Ghost had swum through the dens of their colony, a beautiful tapestry of underwater caves, illuminated by bioluminescent plankton. The caves were hidden between the walls of what the humans called the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.
In truth, it was one of the longest mountain chains in the world, running nearly the entire length of the North Atlantic, up until the southern tip of Africa. Formed in the Triassic period, under the constant push and pull of the Eurasian, North American, South American, and African tectonic plates. The ridge reached above sea level, forming the islands Azores, Ascensión, St Helena, and Tristan Da Cunha, Farah’s favorite inhabited island.
It was also the home of both Price’s and Farah’s kingdoms, divided only by the Romanche Trench, the deepest point of the Atlantic Ocean.
The colony had been built in the walls of the massive rift valley and dramatic cliffs, a way that almost all caves would connect through halls without losing their privacy.
The larger the family, the bigger the set of caves that they deserved. He, the King, and his tritons had an entirely different area around the whole colony to keep the perimeter protected at all times.
Ghost had taken a tour through the closest area of the colony around the Black Lady on behalf of his king, making sure everything was running smoothly and taking care of any problems that might arise. Once he was done, he moved to the area of the tritons and sirens, stopping only when he found Keegan and Logan’s den.
Only after Keegan made sure that Logan was asleep and covered in their nest he swam towards the entrance where he could feel Ghost’s presence. The triton stayed outside, respecting their space.
Ghost whirled around softly when Keegan came out. His grayish blue tail was a darker shade than Jonathan’s and covered in dark blue stripes that lingered across his back, arms, and neck. He gestured to the surface with his head and Keegan nodded and followed him. Cold water bubbled and swirled around them as the tritons swam away.
They found a spot in one of Brava Islands, Fajã da Agua. It was a small, almost crescent-shaped beach tucked between towering cliffs, the black sand shimmering under the strong North Atlantic sun. Due to its remoteness, the beach was rarely crowded, offering the two tritons a good place to be, splashing their tails against the waves.
“How’s Logan?”. Ghost flinched inward. He was aware he could’ve just asked through their psychic link, but he needed to get out of his head for even a little bit.
“Angry,” Keegan replied. He lowered his gaze, his claws playing with the warm sand. “I don’t get it, brother.”
Ghost turned his gaze towards him while Keegan just kept talking.
“I lost my mate hundreds of years ago. I love Logan,” Keegan muttered. “He might not be my mate but he’s my chosen companion. How’s that not valid for the ocean?”
Ghost lowered his eyes toward the striking, crystal-clear turquoise water before him. He couldn’t answer Keegan because it was exactly what he thought. And yet, a pang of guilt sliced through him when he thought of Soap. He wanted to see him, even from a distance, make sure that Merrick wasn’t drilling a hole in his skull for what he had said.
He regretted telling Merrick anything. Knowing how fiercely protective he was of all of them, it was not strange that the triton now just had another reason to hate the humans.
“The mermen won another game” Kegan mentioned, changing the subject. “They beat us, again.”
Ghost cursed under his breath. The mermen were smaller and more fragile. The whole reason Tritons existed was to keep the mermen safe. And yet, their number had been increasing exponentially through the years.
“How many do you think they are now?” Keegan asked, brushing his webbed hands together.
“Millions. To our last account,” Ghost admitted, his tone low, and almost embarrassed.
“And we keep dying of old age,” Keegan argued. “of sadness, by accident keeping them safe from landslides or whatever.”
“Thousands to protect millions and still unable to mate freely,” Simon admitted. “Makes no sense to me.”
The fact that he hadn’t been able to give Jonathan a descendant weighed heavily on his shoulders and heart, even knowing it wasn't his fault.
Farah and Alex had talked to him about it, and Elias and his sons too. It was the duty of their king to find his mate, even more so than any other triton, considering the next Monarch came usually through bloodlines. It wasn't an exclusive rule, sometimes the ocean would choose any other family.
Some said it was because Jonathan was too young to even think about the next in line, while others claimed it was due to him being unmated. Whatever the reason was, the fact remained: despite being one of the largest colonies in the ocean Jonathan still had nobody to succeed him.
“We are a dying breed, Simon,” Keegan murmured under his breath. “Maybe the mermen don’t need guardians anymore.”
“Maybe we should retire to the land,” Ghost joked and Keegan smiled.
“They need money to live, so, open a shop?” Keegan ventured. “I’ll get a firing range, you get one of those tattoos sh*ts you like.”
“A tattoo studio,” Ghost corrected him, the corners of his lips tugging only slightly. “I’ll be a tattoo artist, we set it one beside the other, same clientele.”
Keegan grunted in agreement, his eyes locking with the other triton for a moment. “A studio with a military theme. Sounds good, man”
Ghost gave him a dry chuckle, and Keegan offered a smile in return, a gesture that failed to touch the loneliness in his gaze.
**
Two days later, Ghost arrived at the final trials of the group. He forced himself to maintain a distance from Soap, a constant battle against his heart and the nascent bond. He couldn’t help it, the bloody Scotsman was like an oasis in dry land.
Across the open compound, Soap stood beside Gaz, an unexpected stillness clinging to them both. Ghost wasn’t the best at judging human body language, he just didn't care enough to know, but even his untrained eye couldn't miss the tautness in their postures.
“Should I keep scaring him away,?” Merrick asked, arms crossed and standing beside Ghost.
Ghost wanted to say ‘Yes, keep him far away from me’. Something entirely different came out of his mouth, however.
“Don’t want you to,” he admitted instead, eyes still lingering over Soap’s broad back.
“Not that it works much anyway,” Merrick replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully before he continued. “The kid has balls of steel or half a brain” His gaze landed on the man for a moment. “He’s also quick to anger, like a barracuda. I like him”
Soap pivoted, his gaze locking onto Ghost with unexpected intensity. A wave of heat flooded his face, and Ghost instinctively looked away, a muttered curse escaping his lips.
"Yeah, you gotta face the tide sometime, spook," Merrick drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Oh shut up,” Ghost replied rolling his eyes.
A low, humorless chuckle rumbled in Merrick’s chest. "Alright, alright," he waved a hand dismissively. “They can dive now,” he mentioned, changing the subject.
Ghost's jaw clenched. "It’s only been a few days," he muttered under his breath.
“Yes, but they’re trained for that,” Merrick replied, eyes fixed on the horizon. “And they excelled in all the tests we ran.”
Merrick’s hard hazel eyes landed back on Ghost’s. “Can’t postpone it anymore, brother”
Ghost ran a palm over his eyes. Merrick was right, Delaying the dive was a losing battle, his options dwindling with each passing moment.
But sending those two into the water, into their territory was to give an open road for their bond to vibrate again. Its magic would run wild and he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to let that happen. Not when Soap was dead set on staying away from him. The humans didn't know about the mating bond hovering above them. While a bond could be a good thing, they didn't know each other nearly enough for them to see it as such.
“Their superiors want them diving, Spook,” Merrick insisted.
“Tomorrow,” Ghost ordered. “Let them rest for today.”
“Yes, sir”
**
Soap took a deep breath, standing from his seat. His heart was beating too fast for his taste, and he was annoyed by the fact that he had noticed Ghost’s eyes on him again, and yet the triton insisted on keeping a distance. Soap had offended him, however. It had to be Soap who approached Ghost. He cleared his throat, getting ready to walk toward them when Gaz took his hand.
“Where are you going?” He asked. Soap watched him carefully, letting out a deep breath of relief when he felt his fingers caressing his wrist softly.
“Need to apologize,” Soap replied. “Remember?”
Gaz pursed his lips and nodded but he didn't let go. “Wait for Merrick to leave, that bloke knows everything”
“Doesn’t matter, Kyle”
“Yes it does,” Kyle insisted, pulling him back down. “Don’t want you murdered and tossed down into the ocean in the middle of the night.”
Merrick was pulled out from Ghost’s side a few minutes later, called down by the team currently at the communications tower and the monitoring radars and submarine sonars.
Soap seized his chance. As Ghost, at the front of the group, briefed them on the aquatic creatures humans dismissed as mere legends, Soap lingered in the back. He understood these creatures were very real threats, and their survival depended on paying heed to Ghost's words. Yet, the moment the briefing ended, Soap crossed the distance in a few long strides.
"Hold on a minute," Soap called out, his voice cutting through the air before Ghost could run away.
Ghost peeked from above his shoulder before he turned around toward the other recruit who had distracted him long enough for the sergeant to sneak up and ambush him from behind.
“A word, Lieutenant?” Soap insisted, taking a step closer.
A jolt shot through Ghost as Soap closed the distance. He fought the wild beating of his heart, grateful for the markings that concealed the unexpected heat radiating from his skin. Soap's voice, rough and low, filled the air.
“What do you need, sergeant?” he asked, keeping his voice a low murmur, hoping it didn't betray how nervous he was.
Ghost forced himself to remain still as a recruit and a scientist approached, their presence a temporary buffer between him and Soap. He signed the proffered paperwork with a practiced hand, his gaze never leaving the briefing materials in front of him. He had half a mind to ask them to stay but he let them go with a curt nod instead. He couldn't keep hiding from the man.
“Wanted to apologize, Sir,” Soap said.
Soap bit his lip, annoyance creeping up his skin when Ghost’s gaze lingered elsewhere. The annoyance he felt made his skin bristle. Soap moved until he could stay in front of him and look into those soft honey-brown eyes.
There was not a hint of the teasing, flirting attitude of the triton now and Soap felt a pang of disappointment hitting in his gut.
A cough escaped his lips, breaking the heavy silence when Ghost’s eyes caressed his face and Soap the triton hadn't said a word.
"About the other day," Soap began, his voice rough. He cleared his throat, the sound betraying a hint of nervousness. He clasped his hands behind his back, a gesture that both grounded him and created a physical barrier between them. "What I said...it was out of line. I apologize."
Soap's gaze darted around the area, landing anywhere but on Ghost. The tension in the air was thick, a silent plea hanging between them. Ghost fought the urge to reach out, a physical manifestation of the longing he couldn't express.
Look at me, he wanted to say.
He clamped his jaw down, swallowing the unspoken words that burned in his throat.
A wave of disappointment washed over him. Soap's apology seemed mechanical, devoid of the warmth Ghost craved. Perhaps this was just a duty, a box to be checked, not a bridge to something more.
Ghost lowered his gaze, and the world seemed a bit more dull. A little less warm. Soap felt the urge to ask him if he was ok, what else could he say to get the triton to forgive him? If only he could look him in the eye, but his cheeks would burn the more he stared at Ghost, the more he remembered how handsome he was behind that mask of black and white.
“Understood,” Ghost uttered finally with a measured tone.
And Soap stood there, unable to reply. A flicker of movement beneath Ghost's pale eyelashes caught Soap's attention for a fleeting moment before the triton looked away again. Ghost's voice, a low murmur, filled the space.
"Dismissed, Sergeant," he said, the formality a stark contrast to the softness that crept into his tone when he added, "If you need to leave, go. You don't have to stay."
Soap wanted to scream in frustration. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to meet him, wanted to make sure the triton didn't hate him. He pried his brain to come up with something, anything. Any excuse would be good if he could hear that rough voice directed at him one more time.
“Soap?” Kyle's voice broke the charged silence. Soap spun around, his body reacting instinctively. A flush crept up his neck and Kyle's brow furrowed in concern.
“Hello, Kyle,” Ghost greeted him.
Soap turned back, catching the gentle tone in Ghost’s voice. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Ghost focused on Kyle, a subtle smile on his lips. “You both did great in your trials, congratulations.”
Kyle cleared his throat. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” He stood beside Soap, their shoulders brushed slightly and Ghost’s eyes lingered on the touch for a second.
“Ghost is fine. Are you ok?”
Soap clenched his jaw, eyes glaring at Ghost. The hot rush of fury that ran through his veins startled and annoyed him to no end. Well, if Ghost was so interested in talking to Kyle instead…
“Excuse me, “ Soap snapped, “I’ve been dismissed”
Without another word, he stormed right back inside the compound. Kyle opened his mouth, perhaps to offer a question or comment, but the door slammed shut before he could utter a word. Soap's retreating form disappeared into the distance, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.
Kyle shifted his gaze to Ghost, expecting a response. The triton stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the spot where Soap had vanished. A flicker of emotion, something akin to sadness crossed his features before he lowered his gaze to the ground.
Kyle wondered what it meant, why Ghost looked like a puppy that had been kicked out of the streets on a rainy night.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said, out of the sudden, startling Ghost who flinched and looked up.
“About what?”
“Soap, he…” Kyle shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “He’s not a bad man. He’s just a bit blunt, sometimes.”
Ghost's voice held a tinge of bitterness as he replied, "He certainly doesn't mince words, does he?" He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that betrayed his frustration.
“Don’t think that’s what this…is,” Kyle trailed off. He wasn't sure what was wrong with Soap, and why he was being so aggressive towards the Lieutenant.
“Is uhm…” he began, his voice hesitant. " is the Captain alright?"
Ghost's eyes sparked up. “I don’t know, haven’t heard from him in days,” he admitted. “I hate it, but if something had happened, we would know already, so he’s alright.”
“Oh”
“We just have to wait,” Ghost continued. “I can let you know as soon as he gets here. I'm sure he would love to see you again.”
Kyle's silence stretched, the weight of unspoken questions hanging in the air. Ghost's brow furrowed, a flicker of concern replacing the earlier glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“You say it as if…”
“Ghost,” Merrick called from the same door Soap had disappeared before. “Need you to check something. Can you come with me to the sonar room?”
A low curse rumbled from Ghost's throat, barely audible. "I’m coming," he muttered, turning back to face Kyle. The triton stood expectantly, but Kyle hesitated, his hand raised in a gesture of dismissal.
"Another time, perhaps," Kyle said, his voice mild yet laced with a hint of unspoken concern. "Can I see you later?"
.
Ghost nodded. “Of course. Stay safe till then, Sergeant.”
**
It was late at night when Merrick plunged into the ocean. After hours spent in the cramped sonar room with Ghost and König, he yearned for the open water. How the giant octopus felt so at ease in the sterile confines of that room, in his human form was a mystery to him.
Neither of them had managed to verify if the disturbance in the water had been man-made or natural, leading Merrick to dive to make an in-person check. The familiar chill of the deep embraced him, and his human legs soon dissolved into a grayish-colored tail adorned with black spots on the back, covering his torso and part of his arms and Merrick glided forward.
He followed the faint sonar readings and instructions Ghost gave him. The Black Lady was located east of the Bermuda Triangle, standing just between the famous area and the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.
This specific area they were looking for was between the compound and the ridge. The ocean floor here was a jagged landscape of volcanic peaks and deep chasms, shrouded in an unsettling silence broken only by the rhythmic hum of his heartbeat
His sharp eyes darted around, and a flicker of movement caught his attention. Several vents marred the otherwise smooth volcanic rock. Wisps of steam curled from these newly opened fissures, a stark contrast to the cold, silent depths. While they remained dormant for now, a faint, rhythmic pulse emanated from their depths, a subtle warning of the potential power they held.
“Natural event, then,” he thought. “Gonna have to file a report, f*ck my life.”
He swam around the entire location, making sure to engrave enough details in his mind before he turned his back, swimming begrudgingly towards the Black Lady.
Hours later a bioluminescent brilliance erupted from the deepest vent. For a fleeting moment, there was a glimpse of cerulean light dancing and pulsing within the blackness.
Nobody was around to see a tentacle as thick as a tree trunk writhing out, its otherworldly glow casting an eerie light on the surrounding water. It pulled back inside leaving the surface as still as if nothing had happened.
**
Gaz decided he had had enough of the imposed distance with Soap. He missed him and wanted to know why Soap was being so aggressive when Ghost was friendly.
With a huff, he barged into Soap's quarters, expecting the usual stoic facade. instead, he found Soap hunched over a small table bathed in the stark glow of a single lamp. The telltale glint of metal and the methodical disassembly of an unfamiliar gadget instantly grabbed Gaz's attention.
Sprawl of wires, tools, and what looked like scavenged components lay sprayed around the table. Soap meticulously picked apart the device, his confident fingers working almost on autopilot. The experience and practiced efficiency of his SAS training came in handy both outside and inside the field. Especially in times like this when he needed to stop thinking and channel his energy into a single task.
Gaz flopped down onto Soap's bed with a sigh. He closed his eyes, inhaling the familiar scent – a comforting mix of smoke and something uniquely Soap. "Come to bed, love," he murmured, his voice thick with unspoken longing.
After a beat of silence, Soap unplugged the cables with a faint click. "Thought you were enjoying your little chat with our new guest," Soap finally replied, his tone laced with a dryness that could have been mistaken for sarcasm.
Gaz's brow furrowed. "He's kept his distance, just like you wanted to," he countered.
“Hmm,” Soap muttered in response.
"Soap," Gaz called out, his voice heavy with a weary sigh.
Soap flinched, the anger in him threatening to spike up. "I apologized, Kyle," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the disassembled device. "Doesn't seem to matter much though," he mumbled, a hint of frustration creeping in. "He still...hates me" The words trailed off, replaced by a heavy silence.
Gaz watched him for a moment, his heart twisting at the sight of Soap's dejection. "Can you put that down for a second?" he asked gently.
Soap hesitated. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, set the device aside. He turned towards Gaz, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Gaz patted the space beside him, a silent invitation, and smiled softly when Soap finally sat at the edge of the bed.
“Let’s forget about the tails,” Gaz began, reaching out to take his hands. “and the eggs and all that. We’re talking about two people who, for whatever reason can’t have a family.”
Soap's gaze dropped to their entwined hands, his thumb tracing a soft circle on Gaz's calloused skin. A flicker of pain crossed his face.
"And you pissed on that, love," Gaz continued, his voice low and tender. "Can't exactly blame him for not trusting you right now."
Soap opened his mouth to speak, a sudden realization dawning on him. He glanced around the room, his eyes vacant for a fleeting moment as the memory of Ghost's conversation with Keegan resurfaced.
"Not mated," he blurted out, his voice tight with a sudden realization.
Gaz's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you on about, Soap?"
“He told Keegan their eggs didn't take and never would ‘because they’re not mated’,” Soap replied.
Gaz stiffened, his eyes going wide when every word fitted like a puzzle.
“He has a lover, yes. But it's…unofficial and their ways are slightly different than ours,” Kate had said.
“But when the time comes they settle with one mate, a soulmate apparently, with whom they have eggs and offspring,” were Roach’s exact words.
“Bloody hell, Soap,” Gaz breathed out, trying his best to ignore the sudden excitement he felt in his heart and his veins, laced with a pang of guilt gnawing at him.
**
The cascading water did nothing to soothe Ghost's churning thoughts. Soap's reaction and Gaz's cryptic words echoed in his mind. Jonathan would come back any day, how was he going to tell him that his mate may or might not be like them? Like Simon’s parents.
They were soulmates also, and yet…
“f*ck,” he rasped as the cold water fell over his head.
A flicker of hope, fueled by the young soldier's optimism, dared him to believe Soap wasn't a threat. Yet, the scars of a long-buried past had forged a grim cynicism in Ghost.
Grunting in annoyance, he turned off the faucet when an intense feeling hit him– a warmth that spread not from the water, but from somewhere deeper, a feeling as sudden and comforting.
“Simon.”
The surprised gasp that escaped him was terribly undignified but Simon didn’t care. In a surge of joy, he scrambled out of the shower, threw the door open, and collided with Jonathan with the force of a breaching whale. His arms, usually so precise and controlled, wrapped tightly the triton’s neck, as his raspy laugh filled the room.
The press of Simon's warm body was an instant relief. 'Missed you too,' Jonathan mumbled, finally letting the tension drain from his shoulders. Relaying intel about the monarch's meeting to Kate, while keeping his mind closed to Simon had been a real struggle, but the acrid tang of Simon's anxiety had gnawed at him the whole time.
The second he was done, he was racing up here, needing to know if he and the two men were safe.
“Too damn long," Simon breathed, a shudder rippling through him despite the warmth of Jonathan's embrace.
Alarms shrieked in Jonathan’s head, warring with the need for solace. His calloused hands fumbled, cupping Simon's face for a fleeting moment before their lips met in a kiss fueled by a desperate yearning.
Jonathan melted against those lips that knew every inch of his body, that had played and owned every fiber of his being. Yet, Simon’s desperation tasted of a deep sadness, a sheer pain that blasted out of him, and against Jonathan’s skin.
Mustering all his strength, he gripped Simon's face, forcing their eyes to meet. The hold tightened as his brow furrowed into a deep crease, searching for answers in Simon's brown eyes.
“What happened?” He asked in a low tone.
Simon shook his head, eyes pinned to the floor. “Nothing,” he rasped, shaking hands and struggling with the zipper of Jonathan’s uniform. “Take this off.”
The warmth of the kiss shattered as Jonathan's hands clamped down on Simon's wrists with a chilling resolve. Simon stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line. Jonathan’s eyes blazed– a fiery mix of anger and raw worry when Simon finally gazed up.
His voice, rough and low, echoed in the sudden silence.
“Try again Simon,” he rasped, a cold warning slipping into his command. “What the hell happened?”
