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

Chapter Twenty-Three: Missed Call

Ghost watches Crow as she tells General Moorehouse the fate of Kieran Corr. She insisted that they return to Headquarters, and she marched right to Moorehouse's office upon arrival. Despite it now being nearly the early hours of the morning, Ghost wasn't surprised that Moorehouse was there—not with everything going on. The General had been sitting at her desk, on the phone, but she immediately hung up upon seeing Crow.
He watches as the woman he's grown to love drops her head in shame, erupting into a sob, and though he so badly wants to reach for her, Moorehouse beats him to it. Moorehouse folds Crow onto her chest, wrapping an arm around her back and placing a hand on her head as Crow cries into Moorehouse's shirt. It's a motherly gesture, and Crow melts into it like she's been waiting for a touch like this for some time.
Ghost stands a few feet away and listens to Crow cry, listens to Moorehouse's voice—her words for Crow too low for him to hear—and he stares at the floor. He keeps his face etched in stone, and when he sees Moorehouse's head move slightly in his periphery, he knows that when he looks up he'll catch her gaze. So he looks up.
Moorehouse is staring at him over Crow's head, taking in all of his naked features. This is the first time the General has seen him without a mask.
He did it for Crow. He didn't take off his mask to save Kieran—he knew the Captain had been beyond saving the moment that Undead ripped out a piece of his throat. But she had searched for him in the chaos, had held out her hand and called him Simon... and who was he to deny Crow anything?
So Ghost keeps his head angled toward the ground, but he looks at the General from the tops of his eyes. His gaze his hard, his mouth a thin line. He can feel a muscle tick in his jaw, he can feel his short nails digging into his palms as his fists tighten by his sides.
He lets the anger radiate off of him, and he lets Moorehouse see it.
"You should have never assigned us to something like this." Ghost says. Moorehouse stares at him. "You had to have known where this was headed."
"I didn't." Moorehouse replies, her expression carefully blank.
"Were you hoping for us to fail?" Ghost asks. "You know neither of us were experienced in something like this. Did you want us to fuck it up?" He lifts his head to look at her directly. "Are you the one supplying O'Sullivan, General? Did you need our inexperience to buy you more time?"
Crow picks her head up off of Moorehouse and turns to face him, her blotchy face incredulous, her bloodshot eyes narrowed in disgust. "Riley."
Ghost doesn't look at her, he keeps his eyes on Moorehouse. "Answer the question, General. Because none of this is adding up, and it hasn't since the beginning."
Moorehouse crosses her arms. There's a dark spot on her shirt from Crow's tears. "I am not supplying or working with the Undead." She says. "Are you?"
"Excuse me?" Ghost demands.
"Since we're making wild accusations," The General says, her eyes flaring with anger. "I may as well ask you the same thing."
"Oh, come on," Ghost snaps, throwing a hand in the air. "You have to admit this whole thing is fucking fishy from our point of view. Why did you not order Defense troops to move in on Vampire Alley days ago? Why did you let only five Defensemen respond to the aftermath of the nightclub? That should have been a full force, takedown operation where we infiltrated Vampire Alley and took Meara O'Sullivan into custody until we received answers, a motive, another person of interest, something. This is the most significant attack from the Undead in perhaps history, and we're fucking sitting ducks. It's not adding up, General. What are you protecting?"
Ghost had been thinking these things for some time now. He never trusted people in positions of authority. He had never seen Moorehouse as a particularly untrustworthy person, but now it was too much. It had all been too much.
Ghost glances at Crow and sees her brow furrowed, her eyes trained on nothing. Her brain is working, and working quickly.
"Acts of war require governmental approval." Moorehouse replies, her voice emotionless.
"Not when it's in defense of our citizens!" Ghost explodes, making both women flinch. "People were murdered in cold blood tonight! And your response was to sit around and wait for Crow to talk to the head of the operation first? She could have died!"
"Captain Corr died, Lieutenant." Moorehouse shoots back.
"Yes. He did. Captain Corr got mauled in the street," Ghost says, lowering his voice to a dangerous tone. "But he wasn't the first tonight. And still nothing is being done. You should have ordered troops into that part of the city hours ago."
"As I said," Moorehouse replies. "That requires certain approvals that could cost me my job if I don't obtain them before I act."
"Well that rule should be fucking changed." Ghost snaps. "And everyone involved should be fucking ashamed of themselves."
"I don't disagree with you."
"You should be ashamed of yourself," Ghost seethes. Moorehouse blinks, and Crow raises her head in surprise. "Corr's life was more important than your fucking job. Blaming this all on semantics is a cowardly thing to do."
"And what of you, Lieutenant?" Moorehouse shoots back, her voice sharp, her eyes bright with what Ghost thinks might be tears, her cheeks stained red from perhaps humiliation or anger or both. "You were there. You were standing right in front of him. Why couldn't you save him?" Her voice twists into something bitter, and the words dig into Ghost's chest. "Do you favor the Undead, Riley? I can throw around the same type of accusations, if that's what you want."
"Fuck you." Crow's voice slices through the room, and both Ghost and Moorehouse pause, taking their eyes off each other and looking to Crow, who's glaring at the General.
Moorehouse says Crow's first name, breathing it out in shock. When had Crow ever spoken to her like this? "Crow, I didn't mean—"
"Fuck. You." Crow hisses, her eyes narrowed to slits as she points her index finger at the General. Ghost almost reaches for her, almost taking her hand and putting it down by her side, begging for her to stop, for her to stop before she says too much of the wrong thing and damages her relationship with Moorehouse beyond repair. But he's frozen in place, watching her grief and fear and rage boil over into something deadly.
"Lieutenant Crow—"
"Where's your daughter, Amelia?" Crow whispers. Her face contorts into a smile that sends a chill down Ghost's spine. "Where's your fucking daughter that you never thought to mention to me? Where is she tonight, after she abandoned her post?"
Ghost glances at Moorehouse and is shocked by her expression. The General is truly crying now, the look on her face a mix of horror and confusion. "Dana abandoned her post?" The woman asks, her voice weak.
"She's been doing that for a long time, evidently." Crow replies, taking a step towards the General. Moorehouse takes a step back, her eyes wide. "And pretending she's stupid when she's around me." Crow continues. "Almost as if she never wanted me to assume anything about her."
"I never told you about Dana because I don't talk to many people at work about my personal life." Moorehouse responds, her voice shaking. "I wanted Dana to be protected."
"But all the Sergeants know her." Crow snaps.
Moorehouse throws her hands up in incredulity. "What do you want me to say, Crow? I didn't keep her from you on purpose. The Sergeants are people I've known longer than I've known you. And when Dana started her mandatory year I didn't want to embarrass her by having everyone know who she was to me. But my daughter is not a secret."
"Where did she go on vacation the other week?" Crow says suddenly. Ghost raises an eyebrow in confusion, until he remembers that day in Crow's office when the Private had knocked on the door, had told Crow to not to try and contact her during that weekend. The girl had been strange that day, but Ghost hadn't thought much of it. Now he was replaying it in his mind, trying to make sense of where Crow was going.
"Vacation?" Moorehouse looks as confused as Ghost feels. "She didn't go on a vacation."
"She made a point to barge into my office one day to tell me all about it. About how she wouldn't be available for a few days. Another period of time spent abandoning her duties, I suppose." Crow crosses her arms. "But for what? Or for who?"
Ghost thinks back to this moment, looking at the floor while he sifts through this particular memory. He thinks back to what they had been talking about in Crow's office just before Private Bosh had knocked on the door, interrupting their conversation.
A human is supplying them. Crow had said.
I just don't know where to go next. Ghost had replied.
I think we need to focus on the weaponry, and who's supplying it to them. Crow had said. That's the most dangerous thing—
Ghost's head snaps up and he sees that Crow is looking at him now, her eyes hard. She gives him a long look before she turns to Moorehouse again.
In that moment just then, she had been waiting for him to figure it out.
The bitch had been listening on the other side of the door, hadn't she? Ghost thought. She had stopped us from exploring the topic any further.
Crow had waited for him to understand, waited for him to see what she could see.
Now it was time to go in for the kill, together.
"Where is Private Bosh, General?" Ghost asks. Moorehouse's eyes flick to his, and she looks confused, upset, terrified. "Where does she run off to?"
"I don't know." Moorehouse says, her voice cracking on the words. She brings a hand to her throat. "I don't... she's a grown woman. I don't keep tabs on her. I don't know what she does in her free time."
"Yes, you do. Don't you?" Crow pushes. "Or are you telling yourself that you don't? Have you been telling yourself that particular lie this whole time, General? Hoping Riley and I would find some other answer?"
Moorehouse looks at Crow, her eyes wide and glassy, her mouth propped open in shock.
As if she's the last person in this room to realize the truth.
"Did she tell you she had a girlfriend?" Crow asks.
Moorehouse places a hand over her mouth, the horror plain on her face.
"But you never caught a name?" Crow continues.
"All that Defense knowledge was wasted on your own family." Ghost says, his voice hard. "And it's going to fucking kill us all."
"Dana would never—"
"She already fucking has." Crow snaps. "Sick bitch is in love with an Undead. And because she's the General's daughter everyone has been turning a blind eye while she does her shady shit, haven't they? You let her know too much, let her learn too much. She has an advantage no one else has. So you hoped that I, your little work daughter," Crow spits the phrase out like a curse. "Would find another answer. An answer that could keep your professional and personal life separate. But my only answer is this, General: you've fucked us all."
"How has she been able to smuggle the weapons?" Ghost pushes. "How is she getting away with this?"
"I don't know!" Moorehouse cries, and her voice is so raw and terrified that Ghost is inclined to believe it. Had this woman really been so blind to her own daughter's transgressions? How many people had looked the other way? How many had trusted Dana Bosh just because of who her mother was?
But hadn't he, too? Even without knowing Dana was related to Moorehouse, hadn't he never suspected a thing? Hadn't he just assumed she was awkward? Hadn't Crow assumed her behavior around them was because she had a crush on him?
What else had she been getting away with? And for how long?
"I saw her in the Red Rider," Crow says, and Ghost's brows raise at this. "A flash of blonde in a sea of every other hair color. The only ice-blonde haired person in the place tonight, isn't that funny? And Meara O'Sullivan couldn't take her damn eyes off of her. She gave the whole thing away."
"That can't be," Moorehouse breathes, but the words are weak, hollow. "Dana wouldn't do something like this. I would have known..."
"Oh, she's sneaky." Crow admits. "I wonder where she got that trait? You or your husband?" Crow sneers. "I don't particularly give a fuck, at this point. I've learned how to play her and Meara's game."
Crow takes a step, then another, before she reaches for the General and fists the General's shirt in her hands. "Where is she?"
"I don't know, Crow!" Moorehouse says, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I didn't even know she had left her post tonight."
"God, the communication in this fucking organization is abyssmal." Crow gives the General a disgusted look and releases her shirt, shoving her back a bit. "This city is going to be overrun with Undead because you didn't want to believe your daughter was capable of this, is that it? But you raised her and trained her to know everything. She has more knowledge than some of the damn Lieutenants. I couldn't tell you how to access a cache of weapons and move them out of the armory with no flags raised. Meara played her cards well. I'm sure this whole thing fucking fell into her lap. Did you know your daughter was a sicko, General? Did you know she had a thing for corpses?"
"Please," Moorehouse moans, as if Crow's words are causing her physical pain. "Dana could never—"
"The daughter of the Defense General is in love and in line with the biggest influence in Vampire Alley," Crow snorts. "And no one gives a fuck, not even the General herself. Isn't that the greatest fucking joke you've ever heard?"
"Crow—"
"Discharge me." Crow says.
Ghost stills. Moorehouse stills. They both look at her. Crow stares at Moorehouse, and her breath is hard, her chest rising and falling as she stands pin straight, her shoulders thrown back.
Moorehouse's brow flattens in confusion. "What?"
"Discharge me." Crow repeats. "I don't deserve the title of Lieutenant nor do I want it. I can't stomach this place without Kieran."
Moorehouse's face twists in sadness. "Crow, you don't mean—"
"I'm done with this." Crow hisses. "I mean it. Strip me of all of my fucking titles. Take me off the fucking payroll. Confiscate my keys. Erase my name from the roster. I'm done."
"Crow," Ghost says, his voice quiet. When she meets his gaze, his breath is stolen by the wild look in her eyes. The heartache and the fury sit plainly on her face, like war paint she can't wash off.
"You don't have to follow me," Crow whispers to him. "But I need to do this."
Ghost walks towards her, his movements slow, as if he's approaching a dangerous creature that could lunge at him at any moment. But he keeps his stance casual, his muscles relaxed. Crow watches him, her face giving away nothing.
Ghost thinks of the last few weeks, of everything that's gone wrong. Of all the ways the Defense failed when it should have intervened. Of all the times he and Crow and Soap and Keegan and Kieran were put into situations that they never should have had to do alone.
He thinks of all the moments he's seen Crow break down.
He thinks of the way Kieran died.
And he thinks of the last time he was on Soap's couch, his friend smiling at him. Of how Soap begged him to let himself love and be loved back.
What was love if not a series of sacrifices?
When he gets close enough, Ghost reaches out his arm and takes Crow's hand. He looks down at her and she up at him.
"I told you I'll go down with you," He says. "And I meant it."
"You can't," Moorehouse says. Ghost shifts his eyes to look at her but he keeps his head facing Crow. Moorehouse's eyes are big and glassy, her skin pale. "Neither of you can leave. We need you."
"And we needed you," Ghost replies, his voice cruel. "Kieran needed you. Fuck the rules. You left us to fend for ourselves."
Crow squeezes his hand. He looks back down at her, but she's looking at Moorehouse again.
"I'm taking Meara down myself," She says. "But I don't need to be wearing the Defense uniform to be able to do it."
It's then that Moorehouse seems to understand that both Ghost and Crow are serious. It's then that she understands she's lost all control—that she likely lost it a long time ago. It's then that she realizes the Defense is going to crumble at her feet, and all she can do is watch.
Her eyes harden, her mouth flattening to a thin, angry line. "With what weapons?" It's her last bargaining chip, and it's a weak one.
Crow smiles, a wicked grin that makes Ghost's stomach dip with desire for her, regardless of the context. "Haven't you heard? I'm afraid your weaponry has already been compromised."
Ghost releases Crow's hand and snakes his own around her waist. He looks at Moorehouse. "We both would like to notify you of our early retirement, effective immediately." He says.
"You can put dishonorable discharge down on the paperwork if you have to." Crow adds.
General Moorehouse says Crow's first name. "I don't want you to throw everything away over this," The woman begs. "I don't want to lose you. Think of how hard you've worked... how much is still ahead of you. The Defense is your home, and you belong here. Please, Crow." She reaches a hand out and places it on Crow's forearm. "I'm begging you to reconsider. We can figure this out together. I... I need your help."
And this... this makes Ghost nervous. He's afraid that Crow will remember that Moorehouse has been a stand-in parent for her—the person who gave her affection and attention and support when she had none. He's afraid that this will convince Crow to stay, that this relationship with Moorehouse alone will make her want to make it work, to make it right, to try and make the Defense better than what it currently is, if only to make Moorehouse proud.
It makes him nervous... but he says nothing. It's Crow's choice to make. He cautions a glance at her and expects to find something like pity there, some type of emotion that has appealed to her enough to make her want to stay, to make her want to take back the last few minutes of this exchange.
But all he sees in her face is a hardness that can't be cracked open by Moorehouse—not anymore.
"Kieran is dead." Crow says, her voice void of emotion. "I have no place here. You'll discharge me. And you won't stand in my way when I confront Meara O'Sullivan. You won't stand in my way as I do what the Defense cannot. Do you understand me, General?"
"Crow..." Moorehouse whispers. She looks like she's about to cry again.
"Don't mourn me like a daughter," Crow says. "When you have a true one burning every bridge you've ever made. I don't want to be here when this organization turns to ash."
Moorehouse says nothing, her lips trembling as she covers her mouth with a hand again. The loss and confusion and hurt is plain on her face. Ghost almost feels bad for the woman—it seems as though she's realizing her life is turning upside down and she's powerless to stop it.
And yet... she had every opportunity to act, and she didn't.
So Ghost doesn't feel bad for her, not at all.
Crow turns away and heads for the door. Ghost follows close behind her.
Moorehouse says nothing.
The room is silent when they leave, as if they're leaving the General's office completely empty.