𝘒ö𝘯𝘪𝘨 / 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

bed ridden with a fever pt 2 {Ghost}

Ghost stood by himself near the entrance to the base. His arms were folded and his brow furrowed as he stared out into the desert.

Yet while he focused his mind on the upcoming mission, his thoughts would return to you.

He couldn't help it.

Your scent was everywhere in the air, and it seemed like your voice was in his head.

He needed to talk to you.
He needed to see you.
He needed to kiss you.

You were the only thing getting his mind away from the fear that he might not make it out alive on the mission.

"I figured I'd find you here."

Your voice softening as you saw him leaning against the fence of the entrance. Dressed in his usual combat uniform, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

The desert wind blew a few strands of hair into your face, your eyes focused up on him.

Your voice took him from his thoughts and back to reality. You were there. In front of him.

His eyes fell onto your fingers as you brushed your hair from your eyes. He wanted to take your hand and kiss your fingers. But he couldn't.

"Where else would I be?"

His expression was hard, and his eyes were cold. He hoped you wouldn't notice the slight flicker of emotion on his face at the sight of you.

You weren't supposed to be able to do this to him.

He needed you to forget about him.
To not fall in love with him.
The possibility of him not making it out alive ate away at him.

He didn't need you to cry over him when he was gone.
He didn't.

"I-"

You stuttered on your words. He was being cold to you, flat. Aloof. Gone was the Ghost you knew when he laid sick in your infirmary.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No."

He kept his words flat. Cold. He didn't want you to think you had any kind of power over him. But you still did.

He regretted the days spent in the infirmary with you.
He regretted falling harder and harder for you.

"Then why are you actually like-like a jerk?"

You were a medic.
A teammate.
And this mission was all that mattered.
Not you. Not your kisses.
He had to remind himself of that.

"I'm not acting like a jerk."

"Yes, you are. Whatever. I just thought you should know that Price assigned me to fill in for Jamie. I'll be the medic on your team for the upcoming mission."

Anger flashed across his face.
He made sure to keep you away from missions.
He made sure to have you stay in your office, safe and away from the death that threatened to take everything Ghost cared about.

And now?
You were going on a mission?

"Like hell you are. You aren't coming with us."

Those words sounded harsher than he'd intended. He'd meant it as a statement of fact, but instead, it came out worse.

"It's not up to you, Ghost. I'm going."

You argued back. Jamie had fallen sick, therefore you needed to be the step up to be the combat medic on their team.

"And why-why are you acting like you hate me? Like those days in the infirmary meant nothing!"

He stared at you blankly.
He was a soldier. He was a killer. He couldn't let these feelings that he felt for you blind him.

The days he spent laying in that cot was heaven.
He got to see you, talk to you. Steal a few kisses from you.

"They were worth everything. And not a day will go by that I don't fucking think about them. But for my sake, y/n, you can't come."

He paused, the coldness leaving his voice as he said one word. "Please."

"I can't. Price's orders, Ghost. I'll be fine."

He looked at you as you stood there.
So beautiful.
So innocent.
So stubborn.

He was afraid for you, afraid of what the mission would do to you. He couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt.

But at the same time, he couldn't bear the thought of you being away from him.

"I'm begging you, y/n. Tell him you're sick or some shit. Just don't come on this mission. Please."

His voice was softer, more human than he had been the entire time you had known him.

Ghost stared at you for a moment, his heart racing as he waited for your answer. And in that moment all he felt was fear.

Fear for you.
Fear of losing you.
Fear that if he let you go, he might never see you again.

"Briefing in 10." Your radio broadcasted before you could say something back to him.

His eyes remained on you as you turned to answer the radio. His mouth started to form another word, another plea for you not go.

But as if you knew what he was going to say before he said it, you spoke for him.

"I'll be fine, Simon. I promise."

It took him a moment to respond, his words strained.
Like his mouth could barely form them.

"...I'll hold you to that promise."

He wanted to say so much more.
He wanted to beg you again.
He wanted to shout, cry, do anything he could to keep you away from this mission.
But he didn't.

The briefing was quick and simple: Take back a war post that had be overrun with terrorists.

The task force got into their gear and prepared for deployment. He watched you go to your equipment, picking up your rifle and medical gear.

The sight of you sent his pulse racing.

It was silly. It was childish. He knew nothing would ever happen. He was a soldier and you were a medic.

Your worlds would always remain separate.

So why did he hope you would turn around at the last minute?
Why did he wish he could reach out and wrap his arms around you and never let you go?

"You stick to my ass, alright? I don't want to see you even a foot away from me."

"I will."

No mission was ever simple.
No mission was ever, ever simple.

There would always be casualties.
Always.