Tactical (ghost x reader)

Part 2

It had been two or so weeks since your failed mission, that ended with a bullet to the leg, and almost an early visit from the grim reaper himself. Fortunately for yourself, you had made a reasonably quick recovery and you were back and ready for action.

Since the incident, it seemed lady luck was on your side; The Lieutenant hadn't mentioned a word of your 'fuck up' and you had now been instated with the new role of 'Sargent', as thankful as you were for the name, you were not as thankful for the admin that came along with the role, let alone the responsibility and duty of care.

You wondered why you had been chosen for this responsibility, some said it was due to your 'bravery', as for yourself? You questioned wether it was due to the fact that the classified files you had managed to bring back from your mission contained extremely valuable information.

You chuckled at the memory of when yourself and Ghost had handed the papers over to a 'someone of authority' as described by Ghost himself; his name was non other than Captain John Price, who thanked you for you and the Lieutenants work. The Captain carried a long, well kept beard along his face, and a fisher hat that you never saw leave his head for a moment.

For the past two weeks, you concentrated on your physical strength through regular exercise and physiotherapy, making sure you were fit and ready for your next mission; you wouldn't mess it up this time.

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It was a cold, winters morning at the Barracks, and the sound of nature had you waken from your slumber early, luckily for you today, you haven't been woken 'too' prematurely by a nightmare; thoughts of death and pain had been clogging your evening thoughts recently, but you were fortunately to have been blessed with a rather comforting sleep.

The surprisingly pleasant sound of rain woke you a little more, as you drew the curtains briefly to stare at the surroundings outside your window. It was the usual army of pine trees, that blew with the westwardly wind, as well as the busy bodies bellow that continued with their daily activities, from the months you had spent in the Barracks, it was becoming more of an unpleasant sight.

You missed home, you missed London dearly.

With a heave, you managed to rise yourself from your comfortable duvet covers, and drag yourself to your wardrobe to put your uniform on, your eyes wondered toward the mirror, where you spotted your reflection.

Your eyes still carried hollow, dark circles beneath them, and your skin still pale with stress and a weeks worth of low quality sleep. It seemed life was taking its tole on you, but you didn't let it drag you around. Instead, you woke yourself up a little more efficiently by walking to the bathroom, and splashing yourself with freezing cold water.

You gasped at the sudden connection between your face and the water, but your shock was interrupted by a heavy, integral knock on your bedroom door. With urgency, you rushed to fix your hair briefly, and fix your clothes with the brush if your hands, ridding of any unwanted creases before you placed your hand on the door knob, sighing before opened the door gently.

"Oh! Sargent McTavish!" You exclaimed with surprise, before you took a step back, and prepared to salute your respect.

Your hand was ushered down briefly by the swipe of Soap's hand.

"No need for that, Lass. It's not like you've just met me. We share the same rank now, as it goes" The Sergeant laughed before he outstretched his hand, and you took it to form a hard, heavy handshake.

"What's going on?" You asked, your body finding itself relaxing against the glossed doorframe.

"Laswell wants you down stairs in conference in about 5 minutes" Soap said casually.