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

Goodbyes

You and Ghost continued to search the area before you finally declared it clear. 

No enemies, absolutely nothing in sight. 

Ghost looked to you; you knew he noticed it as well. 

His eyes were full of concern, filled with more emotion than you had ever seen. Your chest felt heavy as you stared back, jaw clenching as your brows furrowed. 

It was a trap, and you both knew it. 

The feeling continued to fester, taking root deep down as you tried not to let it bubble to the surface. 

The two of you needed to get out of there, recon with Soap and Price, and figure out a different plan. Perhaps level the building first? You weren't sure if you were able to even call an airstrike this far from the base. It was worth a shot. For now, the two of you needed to leave the barn. 

 You gestured to the door, "Lets-"

A loud heavy boom thundered throughout the building as you were thrown back, your rifle being ripped from your hands from the explosion. Everything and nothing at the same time. Your hearing was shot as warm blood dripped down from your eardrums. Everything was muffled, it was like an out of body experience. 

Until you were thrust back, as a searing pain ripped through your body, your eyes going wide, black speckling your vision, as your mouth opened. You heard nothing as you screamed, but you knew you undoubtedly were. You struggled to breathe, gasping for breaths. 

While you grunted and groaned you began to focus back on the reality of things. You were in an incredibly dangerous position. Exposed, and probably fatally injured. 

And Ghost. 

Where was Ghost? 

You head flicked frantically around your surroundings. Your eyes landed on a figure, half-sitting-half-laying who was a few feet from you.

It was Ghost. 

 He hadn't been as close to the blast as you had been, though he was still in rough shape. Pools of blood soaked up by his camo clothes were visible, as his winter gear had been shredded. 

Relief flooded over your body, he was injured, but alive. 

Your head turned back to in front of you, as you slightly lifted your head in order to see your own body. You were mangled beyond belief, blood poured out of your body, layering the ground with it. 

Your puffs of breath graced the air as they steamed from the cold. 

You were cold, so cold. 

Your vision began to blur, you felt movement behind you before Ghost appeared in your frame of view. 

As soon as he got a better look at you, you saw him clutch his radio on his chest, leaning into it as he spoke. He then dropped it and moved closer to you, making eye contact. 

His mask was moving. What was he saying? You didn't know. 

His eyes were filled with overwhelming emotion, and more worry as they frantically looked over your body. His skeleton gloves desperately pushing against your torso in order to stop a bit of the bleeding. You jolted, clenching your teeth, as your eyes squeezed shut, your eyebrows furrowing in response to the new burst of pain. 

Ghost laid there, his mouth moving, as your hearing slowly returned, desperately still pressing against your body. You watched him, as your breathing began to get shallow, struggling to keep your eyes open. 

You opened your mouth to speak, your mouth was dry, as was your lips. 

Ghosts' voice became clearer, and you could finally hear what he was saying, even if it sounded so far away. "Y/N", his voice was full of concern and anguish. His voice was like a warm blanket as he cupped your head. He muttered curse words, as his eyes were full of emotion, still darting around. 

Thumps on the ground now far from you grabbed your attention.

Soap and Price came into view as your vision began to darken, looking equally as frantic as Ghost.

You felt yourself being lifted and carried, but you had no strength to watch as your eyes fluttered shut. 

Was this really how you went out? You had imagined something more heroic. Perhaps saving a teammate and then tragically meeting your end. Perhaps something more peaceful? Retiring, finding a nice spot and simply spending the rest of your days in a comfy home. 

Your chest began to fall slower, as your heartbeat began to still. 

This was as peaceful as it was going to get, huh? 

Maybe you would've done something more if you had known today would've been your last. 

Spent some more time with Soap, asking about his journal you knew he hid. Maybe your face would've been sketched in there as well, if it hadn't already. 

You would've peppered Ghost with kisses, or simply just giving him a hug. He obviously could use one. Cuddling, while rubbing circles into his back. Anything to see the sadness from his eyes disappear, even for just a short while. 

Price. The father figure for 141. You would've gifted him some nice wooly socks for Christmas. Maybe a new mug, jokingly made with a graphic that read '#1 Dad'. He'd done so much more for you than he had probably realized. 

Alejandro and Rodolfo, those two knuckleheads. Perhaps some matching t-shirts for them? Maybe some snacks for Alejandro's family. You already knew his family was Rodolfo, anyhow. 

Gaz, you were going to miss his smile. He was the friendliest out of the bunch, aside from Soap. You'd probably have gotten him some stupid fridge magnet that would remind him of you every time he opened it. Or a bracelet, etched with 141's names. 

For all of them, a picture, all of you standing, doing different poses, mainly just huddled around one another, with you in the middle, beaming a bright smile. 

You were going to miss them. 

Your heart stilled, and you were gone.