His Muse ( Simon Riley x Soap MacTavish x Reader )

Nine

Minutes turn into hours that grow into days. Several weeks pass, and the mission that should've been only a few days has become something more. A flight crew carried me to the base to seek better medical attention. The pain has subsided, but the healing is still in effect. I can't help but feel anger towards myself for not being more aware, more proficient. It's a Leutenants's worst nightmare.

They placed me in a temporary room separated from the bunks before. It's a concrete room with nothing but a bed, a bathroom, and my crutches inhabiting it. It's entirely too spacious. I feel very isolated here. Alone.

Soap and Ghost are still assigned to the mission, and from what I've heard, they're doing extraordinary. Price stops by sometimes and updates me. I think he understands how isolating it is here, and I appreciate the company.

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I move towards the clearing where I had sat all those weeks ago when I first arrived. I consider it my spot at this point.

I wondered how Ghost and Soap were doing. In some moments, I wish I could message them, but I know they have a mission to focus on rather than speaking with me. I refrain from thinking about them as much as possible, but sometimes it slips my mind. I miss Soap's jokes and his laugh. I miss watching how he interacts with Ghost; in some way, he makes Ghost appear less cruel and angry. They help each other in more ways than one. Which makes me marvel.

Even if Ghost is anything but a prick towards me, it compels me to try and get under his thick skin. In the countless times I've tried, he has shown me nothing of the man that resides under that mask. And I can't help but think that It drives me further to try and uncover it the same way Soap can.

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"Breath, Creed, pace yourself," Lyle says to me, his hands hovering over my hips.

I sigh and inhale as I squat one more time.

This is my favorite part of the day as It's the only thing I can think about to help me get up in the morning. Becoming stronger. I have been practicing my walking each day. I practice for hours, urging myself to try harder so that one day, I can regain my strength completely.

I do another squat.

Lyle is my physical therapist. I've known him for the entirety that I've been here, and I barely know anything about him. He's middle-aged and probably one of the friendliest people here. His demeanor is so amiable it unsettles me in some way.

I squat again.

My legs begin shaking fiercely, "Alright, Wren, that's enough. Let's go do some massages."

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A knock sounds at my door later that evening, just before I start getting ready for bed.

"Come in," I say, wondering who would visit me at this hour.

Price appears at my door, his expression heavy. I quickly sit up.

"Stay where you're at," he walks towards me, stopping three feet in front of me while looking at the ground. He sighs and then meets my eyes as I study his body language. His hair is chaotic, and the bags under his eyes appear darker than before.

"What is it, Captain?"

"Soap has been discharged from the mission," Price says sternly. "I know you won't take this well, but he's in rough shape, and we are tactically withdrawing from the mission until further notice."

A hollow feeling reaches my chest. "Is he alright?" I ask eagerly, "Where's Ghost?"

"He's alive, and Ghost is here with him. I just thought someone should tell-" I cut him off.

"What happened," I ask, grabbing my crutches.

Price stops me, gripping my shoulder.

"That's classified for now, but I need you to stay put and not intervene, do you hear me, Creed. That's an order."

I look at him, my eyebrows knitting together as the lack of words escapes my mouth.

"Yes, sir," is all I can say. It's all I'm allowed to say.

He nods, pulling his hand away. I don't meet his eyes as I hear the door shut, leaving me alone in the silent room, erupting with the voices of my thoughts.

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