Ghost sat watching over Roach. Just because Makarov was giving them medical aid didn't mean Ghost trusted the man. It had been a long two days, Roach had been improving but he still had a long road to recovery. Ghost touched his shoulder which was covered in gauze , the Russian medic had managed to dig the bullet out but not before he tore his shoulder to pieces trying to find it. Ghost was at least happy that Roach had been given a doctor of comparable skill to his array of injuries while Ghost was left with Captain Shaky Hands. Roach stirred, and then weakly opened his eyes.

"Ghost?" whispered Roach, his voice strained and weak. He tried to raise up but Ghost gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"In the flesh. Now you stay down, no use causing yourself any undo pain." said Ghost, returning to his seat.'

"Where are we?" asked Roach, noticing that he wasn't looking at the tile ceiling of most hospitals instead he was looking at a rustic wood one.

"We're in Makarov's safe house.."

"Did MacTavish show up yet?"

Ghost sighed, he didn't really know how to explain that they were not there by choose but by force. "No, he's not coming. We've been captured.."

"Captured? But..why didn't you escape?" asked Roach, noticing that Ghost appeared to be decently healed to the point that if he wanted to, he could free himself and escape to the countryside.

"Their was no way in hell I was leaving you with that madman. We're getting through this together. You understand?"

"Yes, sir." said Roach, a small smile on his face.

"Ah, what a touching reunion." said Makarov with a laugh. The terrorist was standing in the door of the room with a smug look on his face, clapping his hands.

"What the hell do you want now, Makarov?" growled Ghost, turning to face the man responsible for their unwanted stay.

"I need your assistance, not delicate matters." Makarov took a step closer, causing Ghost to tense up.

"What the hell makes you think I would help you?"

"I figured you would say something like that." said Makarov with a grin. He pinched the IV feeding morphine to Roach and smiled.

"You better bloody stop it!" snarled Ghost, rising to his feet, fists balled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. You attack me and your friend won't live through the week." said Makarov, watching Roach's face distort in pain. "But if you work for me, we will keep him alive and well. Do you understand, Lieutenant?"

Ghost took a look at Roach and then back at Makarov, "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"That is the problem with you Westerners. You are more interested in 'friendship' and 'brotherhood' then your own safety. I assume you have agreed?"

"I'm only doing this for Roach! Once he's back on his feet, it'll be your ass that'll need a hospital bed!" growled Ghost.

"We'll see. We'll see." replied Makarov, exiting the room and locking the door.

Ghost put his head in his hands and softly said to himself, "Oh, god. What have I done, please let it be worth it…"

Soap shifted in the bed and pain shot through his body. He gritted his teeth and drug himself out of the bed, he staggered down the hall and into Nikolai's small kitchen. Nikolai's 'place' turned out to be his small apartment in South America, given Nikolai wasn't an official 141 member, Shepherd's band of merry men hadn't broken down his front door. Yet. Soap opened the refrigerator and shifted through the various food stuffs. He picked up the milk carton only to realize it was month old. Needless to say, that carton ended up in the trash can. He settled for a bottle of Nikolai's vodka, he figured it might numb the pain a bit. The table was covered in various maps and newspaper cutouts, along with the occasional box of ammunition or firearm. He brushed these aside and sat down at the table, as he popped the cap on the bottle. As he did so, Nikolai and Price burst through the door both weighted down with supplies.

"Soap, what did I tell you about getting out of bed?" scolded Price, laying down his bag of items.

"I'm not three, I can handle myself." muttered Soap, taking a swig from the bottle.

"Is that my vodka?" asked Nikolai, noticing the bottle in Soap's hand.

"Yes, is that a problem?" asked Soap, taking a long drink from the bottle.

"That was a present from my first wife!" shouted Nikolai, attempting to take back the bottle, "Give it back before you taint it's pureness!"

Finally, Soap gave up the bottle and Nikolai hurried to return it to it's spot in his refrigerator. "Never knew you were married…" said Soap.

"Da. Three times." returned Nikolai, "First one was best. She was like an angel..Good relationship. But she died before I returned from Afghanistan. The second one was the exact opposite, she took everything and divorced me. Last wife left me five years ago, said I was spending too much time helping the Brit's and not enough with her."

"Never knew that about you, Nikolai." said Price.

"Da. You never asked." muttered Nikolai, trying to keep his bottle of vodka from being further tainted by the evils of MacTavish's drinking.

This story could be considered Modern Warfare 2.5. It's a sort of in between while we wait for Modern Warfare 3 to be made. It'll be more of a subplot then a full-blown thirty chapter epic.

Please Review.