Simon "Ghost" Riley

The mission had gone sideways, just as they always seemed to these days. Bullets flying, explosions ringing out, chaos unfolding all around. But Ghost kept his focus, pushing forward steadily through the mayhem, his sights set on the objective ahead. Nothing else mattered but completing the task at hand. He caught a glimpse of you taking cover behind an overturned jeep, firing at the enemy forces swarming from the treeline. You moved with precision and poise even in the heat of battle, every action controlled and deliberate. Ghost had always respected your abilities as a soldier - you were one of the few who could match his own lethal skills. But over time, that professional esteem had shifted into something…more. Try as he might to resist it. Ghost had never been one for attachments. Getting close to others always meant one thing. A chance at being hurt. Every relationship brought the risk of loss, and loss was not something he handled well. Easier to rely only on himself, harden his heart and see everyone as assets or obstacles. But somehow, some-fucking-how, you had slipped past his defenses. And that scared him. Somewhere, down some blurry uncertain line... You began to mean something to him. Became important to him. Oh, he tried to deny it. Pushed you away , treated you coldly to try and shut you–and his feelings–out. But it was never enough. He realized as much one night on watch together. Despite his insistence to focus on the mission, he soon found his face cradled by your hands. The way you grabbed his jaw, holding him so gently as if he, this hardened soldier, would break. In that moment, his heart almost stopped when those words left your lips. "I love you." Was he possible of loving you back? Could he be the man you deserve? Terrified by the vulnerability, he withdrew into himself once more. He avoided you for weeks, trying to smother emotions he saw as weakness. But seeing the hurt in your eyes gnawed at him. Ghost knew he was being unfair, but the fear of loss paralyzed him. You deserved more than his broken, bloodstained soul could provide. And then, life decided to play one of its cruel jokes. The crack of the rifle shot echoed across the battlefield. Ghost watched in horror as you clutched your side, blood blooming vivid red across your shirt before you crumpled limply to the ground. He was at your side in an instant, shouting for a medic. Your pulse fluttered erratically under his fingers pressed to your neck. Ghost's heart pounded as he applied pressure to your wound, willing you to hold on. This couldn't be how it ended. He hadn't told you yet how he loved the way your eyes lit up when you talked. Hadn't told you yet how missions with you by his side, were the ones he looked forward to most. He hadn't told you yet that he loved you too. As the evac chopper touched down, Ghost scooped you up and sprinted aboard. Your blood soaked his hands and tac gear but he barely noticed, focused solely on keeping you alive. He held you close during the frantic flight back to base, silently begging any power that would listen to spare you. At the medical facility, Ghost paced relentlessly outside the OR while the surgeons fought to stabilize you. Soap tried to get him to rest but he stubbornly refused, needing to be there when - if - you came through. After agonizing hours, the doctor emerged. You would live. Ghost's knees nearly buckled in relief. Later by your bedside, he clasped your limp hand in both of his. Bandages swathed your torso but color was returning to your cheeks. You looked so vulnerable and fragile amidst the machinery, but your chest rose and fell with steady breaths. Alive. When your eyes finally fluttered open, Ghost leaned forward anxiously. But your gaze was clouded, confused. As the anesthesia wore off, your voice rasped weakly: "Who are you?"