The Crow & The Ghost: A Dystopian AU Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Chapter Sixteen: A Change of Hands

You freeze at General Moorehouse's words. You blink, then swallow, trying to compose yourself despite your heart racing.
"Is..." You keep your hands under your desk, your fingers squeezing together in a pathetic attempt to ground you. "Is everything all right with Lieutenant Riley?"
You try to ask it like you don't know Riley in anything other than a professional sense, like he wasn't just in your apartment all night.
"Riley's off the case." General Moorehouse says simply.
Your jaw drops, and you know you can't hide the surprise on your face. "General?"
"Did you know," General Moorehouse says, her eyes laser-focused on you. "That the Sergeants are required to report to me at least once in every twenty-four hour period?"
You shake your head.
General Moorehouse nods once, looking away with a small smile on her face before she looks back at you again. "You should know that. It'll be important for you to know that in the coming years."
The insinuation is not lost on you, and a few days ago it would have sparked so much joy you would have burst into the biggest smile. But right now, with Moorehouse saying Riley is off the case—
"Thank you, General." You say, keeping your voice blank. Moorehouse blinks at your response, clearly not expecting such lackluster. "Can I ask why...?"
Moorehouse recovers quickly. "Sergeant Russ reported to me first thing this morning about his assistance with you and Riley's work, just updating me on his activities. But I was interested, asked more questions, and Russ essentially filled me in on everything you've learned so far."
You can't read her expression. She looks right at you, her blue eyes sharp and bright and filled with authority. Keegan's blue eyes are practically lifeless, where Amelia's are tinted with an aggression required for someone of her position.
Many people would shiver under her gaze, or look away at the first chance. But you don't, you never have. That's part of what's gotten you to your position—you aren't afraid of the things that usually require a healthy dose of fear.
"I'm proud of you," The General says. "It's a lot to learn in such a short time."
You narrow your eyes. "Thank you, General."
Moorehouse tilts her head to one side, the smile on her face growing into something a little more familiar, a little more friendly. "Why are you being so cold?"
You put your hands on your desk, intertwining your fingers. You suddenly feel angry—angry that she's toying with you like a cat does with a mouse. "It's confusing," You say. "When you tell me I'm doing a good job but then pose to take out the person who's helping me do a good job."
"That's just it," Moorehouse says. "Sergeant Russ is replacing Lieutenant Riley on this case."
"What?" You can't keep the shock out of your voice.
"Russ has a very similar skillset to Riley," Moorehouse says. "And now he's invested. He's learned more in one night than Riley has. When you were getting shot up," Moorehouse's lip curls, anger clear in her voice. "Riley should have either defended you or tried to learn something. He did neither. I find that unacceptable."
"How do you know about that?" You ask, your voice low.
"Sergeant Russ gave me a lot of information." Moorehouse says flatly.
You realize that Riley must have told Keegan what happened the night you killed those guards—and Keegan used it to his advantage.
That fucking bastard.
"I doubt Keegan would have been much better," You say, though the words feel hollow. "It was a high stress situation."
"And that's our job, Lieutenant Crow," Moorehouse says, the disdain in her voice clear. "It's our job to act in high stress situations. You did. But you could have died, and he stood there and watched."
You shake your head vigorously. "That's not what happened."
"Then what happened?" Moorehouse crosses one leg over the other, an eyebrow raised. "Because as I understand it, Riley explicitly told Russ that you handled the whole thing, and he watched you in awe. His words."
God dammit, Riley.
"Because I can handle myself," You say.
"If I thought this was safe for you to do on your own, I would have assigned you the solo mission." Moorehouse snaps. "I picked Riley specifically because he's intimidating, aggressive, and knows how to act. But, unfortunately, it's as though you're paralyzing him."
You stare at her in silence.
"And, I think he's paralyzing you," Moorehouse says, her voice suddenly quiet. Her eyes go soft. "I don't want to see you become too distracted and make a mistake."
You furrow your brow. "Aren't you the one who said I could show Riley a bit of fun?" You think back to your first conversation about this case with her, how she said those words and you didn't understand what she meant. You still aren't sure.
Moorehouse lets out a chuckle. She says your first name, a hint of affection in her voice. "I want you to be young. You've worked so hard. I thought you two would make a great pair and work well together. And I think you do. But things in this case have changed. I had a hunch, but now it's showing itself to be a serious problem. I want you working with someone who knows what they're doing."
Your jaw drops. "Riley absolutely knows what he's—"
"And so does Russ." Moorehouse interjects. "And I don't worry about his emotions clouding his judgment."
You shake your head. "This isn't fair."
"This is the Defense," Moorehouse says firmly. "This is your job. Our number one priority is keeping the population safe. If Meara O'Sullivan is infiltrating our ranks, we need to be on fucking top of it. I don't have time for what's fair."
"Do you think she is?" You ask before you even really think about what you're saying. "Do you think she's somehow gotten on the inside?"
Moorehouse's eyes flash with an emotion you can't place. The smile lacing her features has melted away. "I don't know," She says, and her voice is weaker than you've ever heard it.
That's when you realize... she's scared. She might even be terrified. It's her job to keep the Defense strong, and it might be crumbling right under her nose.
The reality of the situation hits you. You knew what was going on, you knew to be concerned, but you hadn't really... you hadn't really taken a moment to conceptualize what this could mean. That the Undead were truly becoming ambitious, and using the one organization that stands in their way to do it. It would be a disaster—it could be the end of the tenuous safety in the city as you knew it. It could mean violence and gore and more deaths than you can count. It could mean the Undead would run the city into the fucking ground, and then they would have to move on to the suburbs, where people were far less prepared to fight or defend themselves.
The government had made a conscious choice to bring the Undead into the cities in the early days of the pandemic. To keep them contained in a high density area where humans had the numbers that could keep them at bay. The suburbs hadn't had an Undead attack in decades. It had all been by design. It was why the Undead couldn't have cars, couldn't leave the city, were expected to keep mostly to Vampire Alley. But if the Undead decided to truly fight back, to use their terrifying abilities to satiate their hunger...
Moorehouse was right. Riley had been distracting you from what was truly important. And... he had stood there when you killed those guards. You remembered turning around to look at him, and he had just been watching you, his beautiful eyes wide. He hadn't even been holding his gun.
That guard had been intent on killing you, and Riley hadn't even taken out his gun.
And then Riley had told Keegan everything, every single thing that had happened, without even asking your permission. He was still making decisions without you, still acting in this investigation like your opinion didn't matter.
You had asked Keegan how much he knew about the investigation, that time he was in your office. Enough, he had said. What he really meant was, everything. And I'm going to use it.
"Okay," You say quietly. "Okay."
General Moorehouse gives you a sad smile. "Russ replacing Riley as your partner in this investigation will be effective immediately. There is no need to keep Riley involved or updated. You and Russ should meet today to discuss how you want to move forward."
You nod, swallowing against the sudden pain in your throat as you try to hold back tears. The disappointment you feel is like a cactus in your chest, growing upwards and piercing every piece of your heart with each passing second. "Yes, General."
Moorehouse stands and walks around your desk to put a hand on your shoulder. You look up at her. "Being a General requires decisions that will always piss at least one person off," She says. "Remember that if someone hates you for doing something, it likely means that you're doing the right thing."
You smile, though it doesn't reach your eyes. "Yeah, I know."
"You're doing so well," Moorehouse says, squeezing your shoulder before letting it go. "Don't forget who you are. No man is worth that."
"Thank you," You say. "For everything."
And despite being upset, you do mean it.
You wouldn't be where you are without Moorehouse's guidance. She had seen the potential in you all those years ago, helped you and given you advice when she hadn't needed to, when she hadn't needed to spend her time on a lowly Private when she had the whole Defense to run.
But she had seen you—a young woman with a passion and a desire for community, and she had fostered you to be strong and confident. She had learned that your parents had practically disowned you for staying in the Defense and she had focused on you even more, recommending you for certain patrols, making sure you attended specific trainings, allowing you in on meetings so you could observe.
You had been promoted to Captain within your second year, then a Lieutenant in your third. The promotions were decided on by the Sergeants and the General—Moorehouse hadn't just handed anything to you. She had only given you the tools, and then let you create the art.
"There's nothing to thank me for." Moorehouse says, walking towards the door. "I only need you to continue doing what you're doing. If anyone can figure out Meara's goals, you can. Once you figure it out, we can respond as necessary. As an organization."
"Why are you keeping this limited to a small team?" You ask.
"The same reason we require walking in the lobby." Moorehouse says, putting her hand on the doorknob. "No need to cause unnecessary panic."
She starts to turn the knob when you say suddenly: "She saw me." Moorehouse's hand freezes.
"Meara," You say, the words tumbling out of you. "She saw me. That's why those guards tried to kill me. That's why we made Keegan go back for us. She wants me dead for seeing her. I know you said no direct contact. It... It wasn't on purpose. But it happened."
"I don't think Riley told Keegan that detail," Moorehouse says quietly. "Because I wasn't aware of it."
You swallow roughly. "I'm sorry."
Moorehouse nods. "That's fine. Maybe it's better that she knows we're on her trail. Maybe it'll scare her."
You don't think that's true. If anything, it will make her more stealthy, more difficult to track. But you don't say anything, because you know Moorehouse knows that, too.
Moorehouse looks up at you, her blue eyes blazing. "There's no need to delay it, then," She says, her voice expressionless. "You'll make contact with her. A confrontation may be the only way we get more information."
Your eyes widen as you feel your insides twist. "General? Is that safe?"
"No." Moorehouse says, and you see a flicker of pain in her eyes. "But Keegan will keep you safe. That's what he's there for." She looks away. "The meeting tomorrow is canceled. Riley will be informed he's been assigned elsewhere—no  need for him to paralyze you any further."
She leaves without a goodbye, closing the door behind her.
You put your head in your hands, a mixture of rage and misery swirling in your head. You press on your eyes, forcing yourself not to cry.
Fuck. Fuck!
Keegan had, objectively, done the right thing. He had reported details as he was asked—as he was required—and had been honest. But for some reason, you felt like it was a betrayal. Like Keegan had purposefully tried to separate you and Riley.
It was ridiculous and irrational, and you knew it wasn't true. But god damn it, you were fucking mad. You were furious at Keegan for inserting himself, and you were even more furious at Riley for bringing him in without consulting you first, for being so fucking confident in his own stupidity that he shot himself in the foot. That he told Keegan details that made him look more useless than he was.
"You fucking idiot," You whisper into your palms, your voice shaking. "You stupid fucking idiot."
The worst part was that Moorehouse wasn't wrong. She wasn't wrong at all.
Riley was distracting you. For the last twenty-four hours you had totally forgotten to care about Meara O'Sullivan. You had lost the sense of urgency despite Keegan giving you concerning information the night before. Keegan was distracting too, of course, but he knew his boundaries. He had fucked you and then left—he had made it clear that he wasn't looking to infiltrate your life. But Riley...
You had been with him for the last two weeks and you both were already feeling something close to love. That wasn't good. That wasn't normal. That wasn't rational or professional or mature.
Riley had pieced together last night that the Defense may be compromised, and instead of wanting to act, instead of wanting to jump on the information while it was still fresh, he wanted to fuck and snuggle and play housewife.
You had wanted that, too. You weren't innocent in this.
But... it was a distraction. A serious one. One that could cost you your success and your good graces with the General.
You and Riley weren't good for each other. Professionally or personally.
You rub your hands on your face and let out a sigh, willing yourself to accept that you would need to distance yourself from Riley, now that he would no longer be working with you. You would have to try and go back to how things were, to treat Riley as nothing other than a colleague—but how could you do that? How could you realistically do that?
You weren't sure that you could. Fuck, you definitely didn't even want to. But what choice did you have right now?
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out and your face immediately crumples as you read the screen, tears blurring your vision.