The Ghost of Task Force 141 [Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader]

Adrift

There was one DM that stood out to you, glaring at you, even. Ghost's.

A singular message was laid there.

'Come back.' (1:21 PM)

You stared at the textbox at the bottom of the screen. Your keyboard practically taunting you, but the letters felt jumbled. A simple response like 'I can't' or 'promise to keep in touch' or anything felt like too much, and not enough. The cursor, flashing in and out with every second that you don't reply, mocks you. It feels like the ticking of a clock, of a timer going down. A timer for what? You've got no idea. Your sanity, most likely. Every moment you spent in the frighteningly dim and dreary apartment made you closer to just giving up entirely.

What were you holding on for?

A man you hardly knew, who was halfway across the world right at that moment? Or something else?

Truthfully, you knew it was partly that. Though it was also the team. Your family. Just not the kind that would've been there to welcome you home or drive you back from the airport after finally flying in for a visit. No, one that you'd gained through the training spent and the blood spilled between you. Stronger in some ways, but weaker in others.

Like right then.

You felt disconnected. Adrift. Like you were balancing on a raft in the middle of the ocean, cut off from the world and all at your lonesome. The phone in your hands being the only thing keeping you above the surface. Yet all you wanted to do right then was chuck it across the room.

You pressed the power button and set it on the nightstand next to you.

Fatigue was beginning to weigh you down, and you didn't have the heart to fight it.

Simon was half wrapped, half not in his covers. Restless, fitful sleep that most likely did him more harm than good. He'd slept marginally better in your bed. But he wouldn't ever admit that aloud.

It was in a half-asleep state when he heard the, somewhat frantic knocks at his door.

He grumbled, not particularly wanting to be disturbed that morning, still reeling from the events that had transpired the previous night. Part of him regretted uttering those three words. Though they were different from a different set of three, he knew they still had weight to them. A weight he wasn't too sure if he was ready to set on you just yet.

More knocking at his door.

"Fuckin'.. I'm comin'," he hissed, untangling himself from the blankets. He went to the door, not bothering to fix his mussed up hooding or jeans that'd ridden up in his sleep, and tugged the door open.

Quickly, he was face to face with Soap, who looked.. Frazzled.

"Johnny?"

"The lass, she's.. She's gone."

"What." Ghost felt his eyes widen as the walls closed in on him. What he said, what he'd done last night, all came rushing back to him. Was it too much? Was he too much? Had it been too early? You hadn't declined him, rather you'd invited him in. To your bed.

"Left on a plane, early this mornin'. Price,.. Hell. He looks right depressed. Won't give me tha' details. Figured you might a' known somethin'?" Soap tripped, stumbled, and spluttered out the sentences. All cut off like unfinished thoughts, somehow bringing a voice to how Simon felt at that moment.

Ghost answered, "Nothin'. She didn't mention anythin'."

"Ya think she knew?"

He stayed quiet, thinking back to the last thing you'd said to him before he shut that door one last time.

"See you soon."

You couldn't have known. But did you? You would've told him, right?

HIs thoughts all stuttered as he remembered what your face had looked like when you said it. Pained, despite the small smile that had spread across your face. The short eye contact you two had held while she said it, only for it to have been quickly broken before he'd even retreated from the room. He was so focused on clearing his head and getting back to his room he hadn't even stopped to think about it.

"Maybe." Was all he could muster out to Soap after a few moments.

Johnny just quizzically stared at him, like he was trying to see through what Ghost was thinking. "I'll give ya space. Let me know if ya get a hold 'a her."

Ghost gave a grunt and a slight nod and shut the door.

He stood there. He wasn't sure for how long. Could've been hours, minutes, a few mere seconds, he didn't know. After a while, he broke out of his trance and walked back over to the side of the bed he'd been sleeping on, looking at his unlit phone screen. In it's reflection he saw himself, the mask, his eyes and the skin around them not currently covered in the eyeblack he usually drowned them in, and the messy hoodie he was currently wearing.

He tore his eyes away from it, not even bearing looking at himself despite the mask, and simply grabbed his phone and turned it on.

He went to his messages, and stared at the list of contacts. At the top, the most recent was you.

He didn't click on it.