Be my rock | GHOST X OC FF

Christmas Eve

Grimes was the first to hit the showers. One thing she hated the most was taking a shower in a moist bathroom. Letting the warm water run down her body she closed her eyes. She wasn't able to get much sleep. Jet lag had caught up to her and on top of that she had a nightmare. Images of her sitting in a pool of blood came back to her and Grimes shook her head. She was staring up into a murky sky, crashing waves sounded around her and rain pattering on her face.
"It was just a dream," she cooed to herself. She poured her jasmine scented bath wash into her net sponge and lathered it over her body.  The image flashed through her mind again and she froze. Hands shaking, Grimes rung her net out and placed it on the rack.

"Grimes!" Ghost's voice boomed through the door. Shit. Grimes slipped on a slick spot where a glob of her body wash had fell. She stumbled, hitting the back of her head on the metal shelf that held Price's shampoo and conditioner. Holding onto the shower curtain, Grimes steadied herself.

"What?" She said. Heart stuttering.  She turned the water off and wrapped herself in a purple towel. No answer. Grimes pushed her curls back and out of her face.  Swinging the door open Ghost leaned on the wall.

"What? What do you want Lt.?" Grimes shouted. Her anxiety getting the best of her. Unbeknown to her, her hands trembled.  Peering down at her face and looking into her dark brown eyes Ghost saw that something was off. He turned away from her leaving her to stare at his wide back.

"Go put some clothes on. We're going out," he said walking back to his and Roach's shared room.  Grimes padded to her room.  Sitting on the bed, Grimes put her head in her hands and wept. The image still lingered of her sitting in a pool of her blood. Why did it scare her so much? Was it because it was her death? She had killed people before shooting them, throwing knives at them, pushing them off of balcony's. They didn't call her Grimes for nothing. Always covered in black war paint in the field, you'd be dead before you saw her. Was she afraid of her own mortality? Grimes. Grime. Dirt ingrained. She was dirty. Fuck no. Too many therapy sessions to go back to thinking like that.  Grimes shed her towel and moisturized her skin before sliding on a baggy sweatshirt and oversized black cargo pants.

"I am beautiful. I am smart. I am strong. I am deserving of love. I am deserving of forgiveness. I deserve to love myself," Grimes repeated her mantra over and over again.

Ghost waited for her in the kitchen standing and reading the newspaper. There was no sign of anyone else.

"Where is everyone?" Grimes asked. Ghost set the paper down and turned to her. His eyes scanning her carefully.

"You alright?" he asked. Grimes rolled her eyes.

"Why do you care?" Grimes spat. Ghost crossed his arms over his chest.

"Your shirt's on backwards."  he said. Grimes snatched her arms out of the sleeves and turned the shirt around.

"Happy? Jerk." Grimes asked her voice failing her. Ghost scratched his head through his balaclava.

"Price grouped everyone into two's and sent us out to go get gifts for each other," Ghost said his voice dull. Perfect.

"Ok, when are we leaving?" Grimes asked. Ghost checked his watch.

"Now, there's a store not too far from here. It's a 15 minute walk. Let's go Sergeant," Ghost commanded. He stepped forward towards the door and Grimes watched him in his stupid black balaclava. Price had given Ghost a copy of keys to lock up. The two walked out together. The sun beamed down, caressing Grime's cheek. The snow that once was last night had dried but it was still cold. There were people out, bringing in their groceries, walking their dogs, cleaning their cars. Their eyes gazing on the two of them as they walked side by side. Grimes's head barely reaching Ghost's shoulder. Grimes curly fro bounced around her face free from that headache of a bun. Grimes made a mental note to braid her hair into cornrows when she got back to the house.