Ghost wasn’t sure why he was attracted to you. In truth, you were everything he should have despised, but for some odd reason, he found it alluring. Maybe it was your care-free attitude, the non-stop talking, the way you always had a joke up your sleeve and a smile for everyone. Maybe the saying ‘opposites attract’ really was true. Either way, he was not going to fall for you. Okay so maybe he couldn’t stop staring at you, and maybe his day was better whenever he heard your voice, and maybe your smile lit up the room and he wanted to keep it for himself, but it didn’t matter. All getting close to people had done in the past was cause pain, and he was not going to hurt you, or get hurt in return.
He had volunteered for this mission because he wouldn’t be going home on leave, as he had no one to go home to. However, if he had known that you had also volunteered he would not have come. As it was, he was now stuck with you, in a cave, with two M4’s and one box of ammo standing between the two of you and hundreds of enemy soldiers.
“Soap, how far out are you?” You cry into the radio, even though he had told you two minutes ago that he was 8 minutes out.
“Six minutes sweetheart, just hold on.” His voice crackles over the radio.
“You asking him every ten seconds isn’t going to get him here any faster.” Ghosts snaps at you. You roll your eyes and don’t dignify him with a response, training your gun on the incoming combatants and firing.
“Another one bites the dust.” You sing under your breath as another enemy drops.
“What the hell was that?” Ghost hisses at you.
“Another one bites the dust.” You say, grinning as you keep your eyes trained on the enemies. As best you can tell from his glare, he doesn’t find you funny. Like that's anything new.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being gunfire and us reloading. Suddenly the ground shakes and you look up to see a helo tearing the enemies to shreds. You smile as the radio crackles to life.
“Y/N, Ghost, how copy?”
“You came just in time Soap!” You cry into the radio.
“Glad to hear it! We can’t pick you up here, the terrain is too rocky, we’ll meet you about 12 klicks north-east of here.”
“Copy.” Ghost says. He stands up, holding his gun in front of him as you do the same.
“We go in like there are still hostiles left.” He says, you nod but decide against saying ‘not my first rodeo.’ He takes point, and you follow behind, sweeping the land in front of you for anything that moves. You walk in silence for almost a mile, picking your way over dead bodies and ducking under branches. Something flashes in the corner of your eye and you see a laser heading directly for your partner.
"Ghost!” You yell, stepping into the line of fire and swinging around to face the enemy. You pull your trigger, but not in time. Your back slams into Ghost as something rips through your shoulder, and your body erupts in pain. It takes everything you have to keep from screaming as you hit the ground.
Your whole body goes numb as Ghost drags you behind a rock to avoid the enemy fire.
“Soap!” Ghost yells into his radio, his voice hoarse. “Medic!”
He sounds so far away. Distantly, you realize that being able to see him and your body is not a good thing, but all you are really focused on is the fact that Ghost sounds worried.
His hand grips your shoulder and you are slammed back into your body. Pain laces through you and you grit your teeth to keep from screaming. Your vision is hazy and every breath sends pain through your shoulder. You try to curl up around the pain, let out a small whine as that movement hurts as well.
Ghost’s eyes go wide and he tightens his grip to keep you still. He removes his jacket and wraps it tightly around the wound on your shoulder. Blood soaks through the material almost immediately, and uses his weight to keep the pressure. You sob as his attempts to stop the bleeding feel like fire in your bones. You feel him shudder as he watches the blood soak into the jacket. Pain laces through your body with every touch, but it is quickly becoming numb again. Not good you think to yourself.
Ghost yells into his radio again, and this time the medic replies. The sounds of helicopters approaching are louder now. You cry out in pain as hands slip under you, one under your neck and one under your legs, vision going black as he picks you up.
You blink, and now you're lying on the floor again, staring up at the roof of a helo. Ghost leans over you, brows furrowed in concern. Distantly, you can hear him repeating your name.
Is he mad at me?
I’m so tired.
“No. Goddammit y/n, stay awake.” Ghost yells. He watches your eyes flutter in response before going limp again. He looks to the medic, who is busy pressing bandages onto your shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Stay with me, goddammit.” He mutters. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The whole point of hating them was so they didn't get hurt, he thinks angrily, and now they may die thinking I hate them. Why am I so fucking bad with this stuff.
“We’re almost there!” Soap’s frantic voice sounds from over the radio. The helo touches down and Ghost is shoved aside as a million different doctors swarm over you, rushing you into the infirmary and away from his view. He tries to shove the worry he feels down, but all that happens is it is replaced by guilt.
“I can’t believe you were that close to dying.” Ghost says coldly. Your eyes flutter open again, and you blink at him. Your throat feels raw and dry, your vision hazy.
“N’ce ta see you c’re.” You slur out, wincing as the movement hurts.
“Don’t be a dick.” He says to you, but there's no fire behind it. He helps you sit up, and you think you seem him wince when you grit your teeth in pain. He helps drink water before laying you back down.
“I’m injured, i get to be a dick.” I murmur, tired suddenly.
Your eyes flutter closed, your face flushing from the pain. Ghost's face is full of remorse, and he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Sorry," he mumbles, sitting down beside you.
“Wh’t’r you s’rry f’r? You d’dn’t shhhoot me.” You slur out, too tired to function.
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. For… I don’t know. The way I’ve treated you, I guess. I didn’t mean it.” Is the last thing you hear before being dragged back into oblivion.
Later, weeks of transfusions and physical therapy and surgeries and bandages later, you are set free from the confines of that horrible prison they call a ‘hospital.’ Ghost is there to greet you and you think that maybe, just maybe, getting shot was a good thing. Your mind flutters back to the second conversation you had with him, one where you were lucid enough to actually communicate.
“I didn’t mean it either.” You had said, “So let's start over. My name is y/n l/n. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Pleasure. My name is Simon Riley, but most people call me Ghost.”
Yeah, maybe getting shot wasn’t the worst thing ever.
