Specter's Redemption |Ghost x Reader|

Solider's Slumber

(Y/n) felt the gentle sway of drowsiness enveloping her as she nestled into Ghost's side, patiently awaiting Caleb and Soap's arrival at the church.

"Have they arrived yet?" (Y/n) mumbled, making a feeble attempt to let her eyes rest. The elusive luxury of a good night's sleep seemed like a distant memory, her reprieve confined to brief naps whenever a fleeting moment permitted. The weariness etched into the lines of her face told the tale of countless sleepless nights and the weight of unrelenting missions.

"No." Simon enveloped her in the shelter of his arm, drawing her closer. Instinctively, (Y/n)'s hand found the familiar grip of the handgun in her thigh holster as she let her eyes succumb to the embrace of sleep.

A creak pierced the stillness, jolting (Y/n) into alertness. In a fluid motion, she sat up, gun unholstered and aimed towards the source of the sound. Simon mirrored her actions, sliding his mask over his face with practiced efficiency. A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by a distinct knocking pattern on the door.

"It's Caleb," (Y/n) exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, recognizing the familiar signal.

"(Y/n)? Ghost?" Soap's urgent whisper pierced the air.

"Here." Ghost gently assisted (Y/n) to her feet. She motioned for Soap to sit, signaling her intent to tend to his gunshot wound. Soap complied, wincing as he settled into a seated position.

"It smells weird in here," Soap wrinkled his nose, sniffing the air.

"Weird?" (Y/n) was puzzled, detecting only the musty scent of old wood.

"It smells like se-" Soap began, abruptly cut off by a yelp as (Y/n) swiftly jabbed at his wound, silencing the revelation.

"Sorry, slipped," (Y/n) chuckled, her eyes dancing with mischief. Soap rolled his eyes, a mixture of irritation and amusement on his face. Ghost joined in with a well-disguised cough that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"There's a truck out front we can use," Caleb interjected, suppressing a laugh at the camaraderie between Soap and (Y/n).

"Sounds good. Where are we gonna go?" Soap, now rubbing his arm, nodded appreciatively at (Y/n).

"An old safehouse is a mile away from here," (Y/n) declared, stretching her arms. "There's a chance I hid some more weapons around here. See what you all can find, and we'll regroup in 5 minutes." With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving the men to their task.

Ghost stood by, methodically cleaning his weapons, the metal glinting in the dim light. Caleb and Soap followed suit, checking and preparing their gear. Engaged in their tasks, the two men exchanged casual banter, a familiar camaraderie born out of shared experiences.

From the shadows, (Y/n) emerged clad in an old Shadow Company uniform. Caleb greeted her with a smile as he noted the fit.

"Still fits," he remarked, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. (Y/n) smiled back, her eyes momentarily distant.

"They were the only clothes I had left," she explained, the uniform serving as a relic of times long gone. As she geared up, strapping guns and knives to her thighs, (Y/n) became lost in her thoughts.

"Are you ready, Commander?" Caleb's pat on (Y/n)'s shoulder snapped her back to the present. She nodded, but Soap, sensing an underlying concern, posed a more pointed question.

"Are you ready to face Graves?"

"I am," (Y/n) responded with unwavering confidence, her gaze shifting to Caleb. There was a certain recognition in her eyes, an acknowledgment that despite Phillip's flaws, he had been a mentor and commander to Caleb. The loyalty remained, even if the person they once admired had strayed far from the path.