𝘒ö𝘯𝘪𝘨 / 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

nothing more, nothing less pt 2 final {Ghost}

Ghost crouched beside your bed, his eyes studying you as you slept, his bloodied hand bandaged poorly as he tucked a strand of hair away.

Alive you were, with a purpose.
But now, you a means to an end, another mission Ghost had to complete.

'Find the documents.'

He leaned down and pressed his lips against your forehead.
It was just a role. Just a job. Just a target...

'Then eliminate her.'

...right?

His fingers rested on your neck, the pulse, the steady flow of life. For a moment he wondered if he could stop there. If he could just leave you alive.

And yet those thoughts were pushed aside as he pulled his knife from the sheath.

He couldn't.
The mission was absolute.
They needed you gone.

He took a moment to steady his hand.
He had to do this quickly.
No emotion.
It was just a role.
A mission.
A target.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise behind him. "....Simon?"

It was you, sitting up in bed, staring at the knife in his hand, at him, dazed and confused only for a split second when you figured what was happening.

"No, no, you can't be awake...you can't—"
His breath stopped, the knife frozen between the two of you.

"Simon..no..."

"I—" He heard the sheets rustling, sensed you shifting backwards on the bed.

"No...you work for them...don't you?"

Fear had cleared your thoughts.

"...yes."

You were going to try to escape.

"Please...." He could barely recognize his own voice. "I— it's not what it looks like—"

He couldn't let you get away.
Without another thought, he grabbed your ankle, pulling you back to the center of the bed.

"No, no!" You fought back as hard as you could, your free leg kicking his arm, his face, anything. "Let go!"

It was futile.

He grunted as your knee hit his ribs. You had some strength, he thought.
And then you were free, leaping off the bed, but oh, Ghost was faster.

In a fluid movement he was on top of you, the full weight of his body pinning you to the floor. He felt you beneath him, a slight tremble as you started to cry.

"I don't want to die—I don't—" You cried and begged.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Ghost's words came out a plea.
His hands grasping yours, keeping you pinned tight to the ground.

His eyes darted to yours, teeth biting his cheek as he struggled against everything; the mission, taking your life, quick as it was to do so.

'Do it.' A voice in his head whispered.

"I—" He swallowed, his hold on your hands tightening.

'Do it. Finish the mission.'

The knife was there, just inches away.
Easy as done, and he'd be back in the arms of the task force, home free...

"I'm sorry....I'm sorry, y/n..."

'Finish it.'

He shifted his weight and leaned over, reaching for the knife. You kicked and thrashed again as his hand closed around the knife.

Futile, it was, y/n.

The sound was like a dull thud.
Warmth trickled between his fingers, across your skin. "Ah...no, no..."

"Simon—"

He reached out, hand shaking with the blood that covered his fingers. The sound of his breathing was all that he could hear, rapid and unsteady, until he realized it was his sobbing.

He did it.

He sat back, cradling you against his chest, as your body went limp.
His face rested against your hair, tears running down his cheeks onto your forehead.

He killed you.

His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe as he caught the faint scent of your shampoo.

That sweet smell still clung to your hair, a small remnant of the life that was now trickling out along the floorboards.

Dead, you were.

"Status report."

"....mission complete. Ghost out."