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

A Cold One

The sudden explosion had knocked his bearings from him, and it took him a moment to understand what was happening. 

After a few moments he sat up, clutching his waist. A piece of debris had been stabbed right in the side of him, sending jolts of pain up through his body whenever he would move. 

Immediately he looked up, searching for you. As soon as his eyes landed on your blood body, he willed himself to stand. He came closer, eyes widening as he saw the state you were in. 

His breath came out in puffs from the cold air as he staggered further. 

He radioed to Price and Soap, as his eyes glazed over your body. He already knew you weren't going to be the same after this. Your legs were severely damaged, and you had already lost so much blood. 

He kneeled down next to you, making eye contact as he began to speak. "You're alright, I'm gonna get you outta 'ere." He was more reassuring himself as well. 

He had to get you out of there. 

He had to. 

If not for you, but for himself. 

His colleagues, names he's long forgotten, but not their faces. Every time one was killed in battle more of 'Simon' slipped away. 

He was a shell of his former self. 

Ghost or Simon? Not even he was sure anymore. 

But you, you had begun to piece him back together, whether he had wanted it to happen or not. 

His eyes kept traveling down your body as he desperately pressed against your body. His brows furrowed under his mask, as his heart rammed in his chest. He saw you flinch and contort in pain as he tried to stop the blood from flowing. 

His mind went blank as his chest squeezed, it hurt him. So much.

He continued mumbling reassurances, wondering if they ever reached you. 

As he made eye contact with you, he noticed your chest begin to stall, as your breaths got shallower. 

You opened your mouth to speak, your lips were cracked, and you were unable to utter a peep. 

"Y/N", the anguish in his voice, something that was so foreign to him, came out so easily when it came to you. He spoke the name he knew of, but not one he had said before. Splinter. Y/N. 

He felt your heartbeat begin to give, as it slowed. 

His jaw clenched, as Price and Soap thudded over. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, and Ghost felt his stomach drop. Ghost looked up to Soap and Price, still wearing that torn expression. Immediately, he picked you up, arms easily sliding into place underneath you as he watched your face. 

He raced back to the Jeep, Soap in tow with Price in front. Their boots thudding on the ground, the entire plan had practically been forgotten. 

Price unlocked the doors to the Jeep and tore out of the vicinity of the location. 

Soap was frantically calling over the radio, informing Laswell of what had happened, and what state Splinter was in. His accent slurred his words slightly, 

Ghost kept an iron grip on your body the entire time. 

Even after your heart had stopped.  

Instead of heading back to the base, several hours away, Price floored it to the nearest town, luckily only a mile and a half away. 

While on the way there, Ghost began to perform CPR. He desperately pumped your chest, hands locked as he forced down on your ribs. He paused a few times to check your pulse. 

Nothing worked. 

Price raced down the road, flicking rocks and gravel up as he went. The road was bumpy due to it not being regularly maintained. Farming fields passed the window as more houses came into view, and eventually streets. 

The town was home to a hospital, one of the few in the vicinity, and was currently deemed safe. According to the information Laswell was feeding Soap. 

Ghost couldn't focus on anything but you. His own heart practically stopping as he desperately kept hammering your chest.

As soon as Price came into the parking lot, Ghost unlocked the door, and tore out of the Jeep as Soap shouted at him from behind. 

Your body, safely tucked into his arms as he sprinted. He ran into the emergency room and was already greeted by doctors. Laswell had gone ahead and informed the hospital, who had already begun organizing a room for you. 

Ghost watched as your body was wheeled away as doctors flurried around you. Checking your pulse and breathing as you went around a corner and out of sight. 

16 minutes and 56 seconds you had been without a heartbeat. 

His hands clenched into fists as his eyebrows dug down further. He had failed. Miserably. 

Failed the mission, failed to protect himself, failed to protect you. 

Soap stood beside Ghost, looking down at the white floor below them. Price was outside, radioing Laswell and keeping her updated. 

Ghost pushed through the doors to loom next to Price, he looked him in the eyes. Soap stayed behind, lingering in the emergency room.

Immediately he slammed his fist into the brick wall next to him, breaking the skin on the back of his knuckles, despite his gloves. 

"Who did this?" Venom laced his words, as his voice raised, and he didn't even try to hold it back. Ghost was angry. Incredibly angry. And he wasn't going to stop being angry until those who had orchestrated this incident were buried. The whites of his knuckles peeked up from behind his skin as he contorted his gloves. 

Price looked up at Ghost, his hands tucking into their usual spot at the top of his vest. 

"Shepherd's connections. Mafia boss." 

Ghost practically snarled, "Where."

"Not too far from here." Price handed Ghost the keys to the Jeep and motioned towards it. "Laswell will give you information. I'll keep you updated on Splinter."

Ghost grabbed the keys, lingering in Price's gaze. The crinkles in the corner of his eyes were nowhere to be seen. His voice was gruff and his hands pressed into his vest, harder than usual. 

Ghost spun on his heel, leaving as he felt Price's eyes follow him.