Soap shuffled through some papers on his desk looking for the next form he needed to fill out. Paperwork was the aspect of his job he hated the most. He would rather be out in the field risking his life, at least then he actually felt like he had accomplished something. He had just found the form he was looking for when there was a sharp knock on his office door.

"Come in." Soap said in a gruff voice as he kept his attention on the paperwork in front of him.

"Captain Mactavish?" the familiar voice of General Shepherd tore the Captain away from his desk.

"Sir." Soap said as he quickly rose to his feet, pushing his chair back as he did.

Shepherd nodded at him and then stepped aside as another man, much younger than Soap, stepped inside as well and shut the door behind him. Soap gazed curiously at this man before turning his attention back to his superior.

"New mission I'm assuming?" Soap asked as he made his way around his desk and leaned back against it.

"Yes, but not for you," Shepherd said bluntly, "this is Sergeant John Marsh," he said as he beckoned towards the younger man, " He will be heading a mission and I'll need to borrow some of your men to assist him."

"My men?" Soap asked as he raised an eyebrow.

"Sergeant Marsh is on the verge of a promotion, he is just required to lead an operation on his own," Shepherd explained, "However he hasn't had the experience he needs. Your men are the best of the best. If something were to go wrong, I know they can overcome it."

"Sir, with all respect, my men aren't lab rats who are worth risking their lives for someone who is barely more than a rookie," Soap said eyeing the newcomer with obvious frustration. Marsh shuffled uncomfortably, obviously flustered by the comment.

"Maybe. But your men are experienced enough not to get themselves killed if everything falls apart."

Marsh, who had been holding a small folder, pulled a few pages from it and handed them to Shepherd, who then passed them to Soap. The first page was a photo of a rather small looking warehouse.

"This is the building that requires our attention. It's located up on a remote mountaintop in Russia. Lieutenant Marsh and your selected men will infiltrate and acquire as much intel as possible. It will be difficult; this place is believed to be heavily guarded. Marsh will call the shots, and your men will act and evaluate him. If the mission fails, we will have a chopper ready to get them the hell out."

"You make it sound like it's gonna be some kind of game." Soap said, none too pleasantly, "Who are these men that you're speaking of. Sounds like you've already selected them."

"We have." Shepherd said nodding at the papers in Soap's hands.

Soap flipped to the next page. It was a profile and brief background of Archer, the next was Roach, and the last, Ghost. Soap shook his head.

"These three are my best."

"I know." Shepherd said.

Soap sighed as he turned and dropped the papers on his desk.

"I know you don't like it, but it has to be done," Shepherd said, "I'm confident in Marsh's ability to go through with the mission and succeed, but we need your men to do it. They need to be ready in two hours."

"Ghost is ill. He won't be fit enough to do anything like this."

"He will just have to push through it," Shepherd said as he turned to leave.

"Sir, he's sick, he needs to stay here and recover," Soap said as he took a step forward to follow.

"He goes. That's an order Captain." Shepherd replied as he and Marsh walked out of the office, closing the door behind them.

I wasn't one to usually get sick. In fact, this was the first time I had been anything beyond a slight cold in almost three years. I shivered and pulled the blankets up closer around me. My body felt as if it had been beaten mercilessly for days. I hadn't been able to stomach anything for almost twenty four hours and that had only weakened me more. I felt another wave of nausea come over me but I pushed it down. It was bizarre, this strange sickness had come over me so suddenly and so viscously, nothing Doc could do could make it any better. It had hit me during training. I had just run a drill session with the men and was heading toward the shooting range when I suddenly got dizzy, within seconds I was shaking and my vision was blurred. Everything had gone black and I had woken up in the med bay. My thoughts traveled through the day, trying to figure out what had brought this on me. I hadn't eaten anything before it had happened; all I'd had was water to drink that morning. Doc hadn't been able to tell me exactly what was happening to me. In truth, he wasn't even sure. He gave me some drugs, which did little, and told me to stay in bed until it passed. Little did he know, it wasn't passing. If anything it was intensifying. I shivered again, regardless of the conflicting sweat that coated my face and chest. I felt exhausted, but sleeping was out of the question when my body throbbed like it did. I opened my eyes and was met with an equal darkness. The light had brought sharp headaches, so Doc had moved me into a small dark quiet room where I could rest. I coughed slightly, wincing in pain as I did. Suddenly the door opened and light flooded my room, causing me to shut my eyes and turn my head away.

"Sorry." I recognized Soap's voice as he quickly shut the door. I heard him flick on a small lamp that was in the corner so that the room would be dimly lit. I opened my eyes again and blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the light.

Soap had pulled up a chair and was sitting close to me. I felt a rigid shock go through me as he placed his hand on my forehead. The icy feeling of his flesh burned against mine and I shivered again.

"Jesus…you're burning up." He said as he pulled his hand away.

"Fever will break eventually." I rasped, though I wasn't so sure of that.

Soap shook his head at me and ran a head over his short mohawk. He sat back in his chair and I felt his eyes rake over my fragile looking form. It irritated me. I hated being like this. I hated feeling helpless and weak.

"I can't send you out like this…" I heard him mutter.

"What do you mean?" I asked trying to sit up.

My arms shook as I pushed myself up and Soap placed a hand on my back in case I needed help. The act was appreciated but it didn't help my current mood. I didn't want his pity.

"Shepherd wants you, Roach, and Archer to get sent off with some yank to infiltrate a sketch warehouse in Russia."

Confusion clouded my mind as I tried to understand the sense in this.

"Who's this yank?"

"Sergeant John Marsh. Shepherd wants him to lead this mission in hopes he will make a good commanding officer when he gets back."

"So what does this have to do with us?" I asked, still confused.

"Exactly," Soap answered as he scratched the stubble on his chin.

I scoffed and shook my head. Last time I checked, the Task Force was above babysitting in-training army boys. Still, the idea of not being bed-ridden was appealing. I was still frustrated at the wasted time from being sick and I wanted to shoot something.

"So when do I leave?" I asked.

"No, you're not going anywhere," Soap said quickly, "I can't let you go like this."

"I've been in the field in worse condition," I argued.

"Only because I couldn't prevent it."

"You can't prevent it now," I said twisting so my legs were hanging off the bed. I wasn't wearing my shirt, but it was draped across another chair by the door. Soap narrowed his eyes as the blanket fell off my shoulders exposing my sweat covered chest.

"Look at you Ghost. You look terrible mate."

"This is nothing." I smirked and then winced as I shivered visibly without the blanket around me.

Soap grabbed the blanket and put it back around my shoulders.

"Lay back down. I'm going to talk to Doc and see if he has something that will break your fever."

"I'm fine – "

"I said lay down," Soap ordered, his voice hard.

I grinned, but obeyed. At least I had someone who actually cared. Slowly, I laid back down and wrapped back into my blanket feeling a fresh wave of shivers crawl up my spine. My teeth chattered slightly as the fever took another rush at me. The aches in my muscles pounded more furiously due to the movement of sitting up. The idea of going on a mission made me feel anxious. Regardless of how I felt, it would be better than being stuck in a bed all day.

Soap came back quicker than I thought with Doc in tow. After taking my temperature he prodded the vein in my arm before sliding in a needle and injecting the antibiotic within it. Soap instantly took off again, probably to find Shepherd and have a senseless argument to keep me here. I knew Shepherd wouldn't change his mind. We were disposable to him, and if we couldn't do what needed to be done we were useless as well. Whatever Doc shot me up with was working quickly. I began to feel the shivers subside and the throbbing pain became less pronounced. I dozed off for maybe twenty minutes and then I decided I would save Soap the trouble of arguing. Dragging myself out of bed, I pulled on my shirt and made for the showers. My steps were sluggish and my head was continuing to throb as I walked, and, part of me wondered if Soap was right to try to keep me here. Maybe a hot shower would do me some good.

"Heeeey, looks who's on their feet again!"

I turned around and spotted Roach heading towards me.

"You don't look like you should be though, you sure you're feeling well enough to be out and about?"

I was once again annoyed, but I ran the back of my hand across my exposed forehead and squinted my eyes in the sunlight.

"I'll be fine. I think once I shower up and attempt to eat something I'll be ready to go."

"You're actually going? You sure that's a good idea?"

There it was. Guess I should have seen it coming.

"Don't worry about me mate." I said faking a smile.

The shower did more good than I thought it would. The soothing feeling of the water dripping off my face and running down my battle scarred chest helped me shake off that sickly feeling. After suiting up in my tac gear I headed for the armory feeling a bit more refreshed. I slid a desert eagle into my holster, and reached for my ACR resting nearby. I had just slid the last of the loaded clips into my vest when I heard the whomping sound of rotor blades approaching. I quickly double checked everything and left the armory. I spotted Soap and Shepherd standing near the helipad talking to each other. I pulled my balaclava over my face, smiling as I pictured Soap trying to chance another argument to keep me here. It wouldn't work of course, and that thought was confirmed as the two commanders turned to me and I noticed the pure frustration on Soap's face. He broke away from Shepherd and walked by my side as I made my way to the awaiting chopper.

"I can't believe this bullshite." Soap muttered.

"Relax. We'll be fine." I said as I adjusted my grip on my ACR.

The helicopter ride was a silent one. Roach was seated next to me, toying with his dogtags as he stared at nothing, lost in thought. Archer was next to Marsh. Gazing out of the chopper, the sniper looked equally distracted as Roach did. I turned my attention to Marsh. He was staring at the floor, his leg jittering restlessly. He appeared nervous, and as well he should be. I had no intention of going easy on him. I wasn't pleased with the idea of taking orders from a man I didn't know, and who was a lesser rank to boot. I noticed Marsh quickly glance up at me, aware that I was watching him. I took pleasure in the fact that he was uncomfortable, mainly because I didn't like him. He didn't seem the type to be leading a group of men, especially men that were way more skilled than himself. It didn't really matter what I thought though. Orders were orders, and unfortunately, I wasn't high enough on the food chain to make them.

"E.T.A. five minutes." I heard the voice of the pilot announce in my mic.

I sighed. It was going to be a long day.