Back in his room, MacTavish rested on his bed after a refreshing shower. A good gym training session is always positive to get the serotonin flowing. Scrolling on his phone, the silence was swiftly disrupted with a knock on his door.
"Come in."
Billy came in holding a thick manila folder and a red stamp CONFIDENTIAL splattered on the front. MacTavish got up to greet him.
"What can I do for you mate?"
He handed him the folder.
"I believe you requested this."
With a furrowed brow, he opened the folder. On the first page a photo of Sergeant Reynolds wearing the Marine Corps uniform was staring back at him and he understood immediately.
"I thought nobody wanted to give Shepherd her file."
"Nobody does, due to some sensitive missions she'd been on. That file comes from Cobalt."
"Why?"
"Reynolds knew of your request and gave me the go-ahead."
MacTavish was still perplexed. With the way he treated her and how she was behaving towards him in the past days, why should she bother fulfilling his appeal?
"Cheers mate."
With that, Billy left closing the door behind him. The folder felt heavy in his hands, and he put it down on his desk with a loud splat.
"Bloody hell..."
To say that she had a shitty life was an understatement. Born to a junkie mother and an incarcerated father, she was raised in Hemet, California an area known as a dumping ground for parolees and sex offenders. Mother died when she was six years old and ended up in the system, shifting from one foster family to another. Barely making it by the skin of her teeth, she graduated high school and enlisted in the Marine Corps as soon as she turned eighteen.
Nonetheless, the results on the selection process and basic training were far more impressive than those on her GED. Top ten in her platoon, top of her class in SERE training, a recommendation from her CO permitted her to be part of the FET and Lioness programme. This eventually led MARSOC training her to be up to standard to work alongside the Raiders in Iran and Afghanistan.
Most of the missions carried out during these deployments were heavily redacted. He could not make heads or tails of them; even the reports where she earned her silver star and purple heart were unclear. But a report at the end of her file caught his attention. It was a psyche eval performed after her last mission with the Corps and exactly before she submitted her resignation.
The door opened with a bang, and he nearly leapt out of his chair. Ghost walked in casually, dropping his mask on MacTavish's bed. He ran his fingers through his light brown hair and went to settle on the bed but stopped in his tracks as he noticed the folder in front of the captain.
"Watchu got there?"
"Reynolds's file," he sighed, and went to lie down on the bed once more.
Ghost took his place at his desk and started shuffling through it.
"Christ," he mumbled.
"You should read the psyche eval."
After a few moments of stillness, Ghost broke the silence by clearing his throat.
"Well, she's fucked in the head like the rest of us," he said raising his shoulders. "No wonder she fit in well alongside the 141."
"Doesn't it worry you?" asked MacTavish, concerned.
"Are you really asking me that question mate?" laughed Ghost bitterly. "I am the most fucked in the head than the rest of you. And I function well, I think."
"Meh," he replied shaking his head.
"Piss off, arsehole. The 141 would fall apart without me!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," mocked MacTavish.
The sun was already setting when Reynolds was on the way to the medical centre, she pushed the doors open and walked into a small reception area. A nurse was busy putting some files away.
"May I help you?"
"I'm here to visit... umm, Meat?"
She realised that she did not even know his real name. The nurse stared blankly at her for a moment and then something switched.
"Oh! You mean Warrant Officer David Roy! Follow me."
They went inside the ward and stopped in front of the bed in the middle. Meat was hooked up to an IV bag and a nasal cannula to deliver extra oxygen. He looked extremely pale and frail with his thigh heavily bandaged resting on a pillow.
As soon as he spotted her, his face lit up.
"Well, well," he croaked, "I am absolutely honoured by your presence Sergeant."
She beamed at him and dragged a chair near him.
"I should be honoured," she said. "Warrant Officer? I'm supposed to be calling you sir."
"Nah, not here," he insisted, shaking his hand. "Here, I'm just Meat. If I ever go back to Canada Spec Ops Command, then you can call me sir."
She chuckled at his comment.
"How are you?"
"Leg hurts like a bitch. But I'm just glad that we became friends the day before the mission," he chortled.
"It's that what we're calling it now?" she mocked him. "Besides, I would have dragged your ass out of there either way."
"Ahh, did you fall for me Sergeant?" he winked.
"Oh yes, nothing like calling a woman a whore to get your flirt on," she replied with a glint in her eyes.
They both laughed but Meat turned solemn almost immediately.
"Thank you Christianne," he muttered. "I know that you disobeyed orders to come back to get me. I'm sure you caught a lot of flak from MacTavish."
"And I would gladly do it again," she pressed on, resting her hand on his. "I've been in your position and waiting for help that never came was the worst experience I could have endured. It was not going to happen to anyone else. Not under my watch anyway."
"You're a stubborn one," he chuckled, squeezing her hand.
"I'll let you rest. Anyway, I need to prepare my body for the shitload of alcohol I will be consuming tonight."
"Royce's birthday," he laughed heartily. "Oh, you're in for a challenge!"
"There's a possibility I will end up as your neighbour due to alcohol poisoning."
With that, she left Meat to rest and went her way to the rec room.
Reynolds halted in front of the entrance to the rec room. The doors were vibrating along the bass that was booming from inside. Shuffling inside, the loud techno music burst her ear drums with Ozone commandeering the sound system. Everyone was already with drinks in her hands chatting away.
Hernandez fit right in no problem but Billy on the other hand, was standing out like a sore thumb with a coke in his hand standing awkwardly on the side. She hurried to him and hugged him tightly.
"Thank God you're here," he yelled in her ears, over the ear-piercing music.
Spotting Billy and Reynolds, Hernandez rushed towards them with two cups and a bottle of vodka. She forced one of the cups into Reynolds's hand and poured her a drink. To Billy's horror, she added vodka to his coke and winked at him, claiming that he needed to loosen up.
Reynolds gladly took a swig out her drink. The familiar burn felt down her throat and warmed her insides. She needed that badly; the feeling of knots throughout her body coming undone.
Much to Billy's dismay, Roach dragged all of them nearer to them. The men were playing anything that involved alcohol. Reynolds went over to Royce to wish him a happy birthday and hugged him.
"What are we playing next?" slurred Archer.
"We could play strip poker," said Royce, eyeing Hernandez and Reynolds hungrily.
"Royce..." warned him Ghost.
"What?! It's a fuckin' sausage fest in here! At least we get to see a different scenery goddammit!"
MacTavish stifled a chuckle. His inhibitions were melting away with each shot of scotch he was ingesting.
"Maybe it doesn't do anything to the ladies seeing naked men," teased Ozone.
"Anything goes for me," winked Hernandez.
"Oohh is that so?" asked Royce, intrigued. "And for the Sergeant?"
Reynolds smirked. "The sausage fest is perfect for me."
"In that case," he jumped up and landed with force on the bench near her, "hey there."
He wrapped his arm around her and winked at her. She couldn't stop laughing; Royce tried to be as flirtatious as possible but was failing miserably. Ghost sighed and forcefully removed Royce's arm from her shoulders.
"It looks like someone is getting a harassment report for his birthday present," joked Ghost.
Royce rolled his eyes and went back to his seat. The men settled on playing cards and Ghost took his place and settled near Reynolds. As soon as he realised her cup was empty, he topped it off with whiskey.
"You did an okay job on the mission, by the way."
She raised her eyebrows; her black eyes fixed on Ghost.
"Is the 2IC giving me a compliment?" she asked, flabbergasted.
"Don't flatter yourself," he said, chugging down his whiskey.
She glanced at him; a bright beam fixed on her face as he gave her the side-eye. He could not help it and threw a small wink in her direction. Reynolds tried to hold back a giggle, but the alcohol was doing its job, and she failed. He leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"You have a dashing smile."
He squeezed her arm and got up to join the men play cards. She could feel her cheeks flush, and it wasn't because of the alcohol. Looking around, she was relieved that everyone was immersed in his own activity to take notice.
Cup after cup and shot after shot, Reynolds could feel her head swim. They challenged each other who managed to play billiard, but they were all wasted. Roach hit more the sides of the pool table than the balls themselves, Reynolds's stick was hitting the air up above, and Royce's slipped constantly from his fingers.
With Hernandez openly flirting with Ozone, and a loosened-up Billy joking with Archer, Reynolds decided to grab a third full vodka bottle by its neck and drag it with her outside.
A sharp chill brushed against her face and shivered. It was always damn cold over there. Trying her utmost to walk in a straight line, she dragged her feet across the expanse of tarmac leaning against the wall on the side of the medical centre. On the corner she noticed there was a bin and an ashtray, possibly for when the doctors and nurses would sneak out for a cigarette.
A deep breath filled her lungs with icy air, and a swig of vodka filled her body with warmth. Her vision was swimming forcing everything in her sight to appear floating. That night was the first time in months that she managed to enjoy herself.
The night from the bar with Spectre team felt like ages ago. They would usually go bar hopping till the early hours of the morning and she would rarely go back to her apartment by herself. The perfect concoction for stress release; alcohol and sex. Alas, those days are long gone. Now, she was stuck there with no light at the end of the tunnel.
The alcohol was surely disrupting her alertness as it took her a minute to realise that there was someone standing a few feet away.
"Looks like this little ducky went over the hill and far away."