Soap and Zero lay in their separate hotel beds, asleep. The late night made for a quiet background, even the busy road outside was free from loud horns and blares from cars passing through.

Despite this, Soap's sleep isn't calm or restful. Tossing and turning, a shining layer of sweat glistening on his skin, turning the sheets grey and damp. Stuck in a nightmare of the dreaded Chicago mission.

The mission where he nearly fell to his own death.

He wakes up with a jolt and a shout, panting and sitting up abruptly. His eyes scanning the dark room, blurry with unfallen tears. The window next to him was cracked open as far as it could go, a gust of cold wind blowing across his skin.

Adrenaline still running high, he scrambles away from the window, falling off the bed and onto the floor with a thud, hyperventilating and choking back sobs.