Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Fifty

Everything went wrong.

It wasn't often that missions got out of control, but sometimes there were some unlucky ones who were among the statistics.

Never before had you believed yourself to be one of those people.

But life had funny ways to make every day be different from the one before.

Sometimes, it just wasn't what one wanted.

The warm feeling of the sun's rays on your face elicited a muffled groan.

You frowned in annoyance, only to be fully woken up the next moment by a hellish pain in your temple.

"Damn...", you grumbled, and half-blindly reached for a can of pills lying on the bedside cabinet next to your bed.

In one bite you swallowed the prescribed dose of painkillers and tipped half a litre of water after it. Your throat felt as dry as the desert in Mexico after each night.

It was an unpleasant souvenir you had brought back to Scotland.

This and the permanently damaged ear that you couldn't use anymore.

With a thoughtful expression on your face, you sat up in bed and felt your ear.

The bullet wound had been healing for some time and the bandage you had been wearing was no longer necessary.
But still your head didn't feel the same as before.

It was as if there was some kind of air on the side where a healthy eardrum had been. Sometimes, when you covered your healthy ear, you thought you could still hear.

But the doctor had warned that a damaged bodies often simulated the uninjured state.

You had heard stories of soldiers who had to have a leg amputated. Many of them claimed in the first weeks that they could still feel their toes even though they were no longer there.

You used to be amused that the human brain was capable of tricking itself. But it was hard to smirk about something that was actively happening to you.

A heavy sigh left your lips before you pushed the covers aside and managed to heave yourself out of bed.

The cottage was cold, just as you would expect from an early autumn morning in Scotland.

You could taste the mist on your tongue as you looked out the window in the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of coffee.

The delicate bitter taste mixed with the bread and butter in your mouth. The butter was salty. A few of the crystals crunched between your teeth as you bit off another piece of bread.

Outside the window, the thick white wall of mist became a thin veil.

Green meadows appeared and mountains with forests rose into the sky in the far distance.

A few cows could already be seen grazing.

With a thin smile, you raised a hand to greet the neighbouring farmer.

Your eyes followed him for a moment until he finally disappeared from your field of vision and you dared to move to the outside world.

A cold wind brushed through your hair as you stepped in front of the door and pulled your jacket tighter around you.

The hum of an engine approached, but you could hardly hear it. There were many farmers in the area with big tractors and cars.

It was nothing unusual to hear people driving by.

With your collar turned up, you grabbed the milk can that was standing next to the bench in front of your house and turned towards the road.

You managed to make two steps before someone grabbed you by the collar from behind.

Out of reflex, you ducked your head, jumped back and raised the milk jug in the air in warning. An
amused expression met your face.

"You look like a milkmaid.", Soap joked.

It took you a moment to realise who was standing in front of you.

Annoyed, you sighed, but your body relaxed.

"Johnny.", you put down the pot. "Have you finally cashed in your overdue vacation days?"

With a grin he shrugged his shoulders.

"I needed to check up on you.", he said and pulled you into a hug.

Hesitantly you close your arms.

Too much pressure on your chest still caused an oppressive feeling. Sometimes it even became difficult to breathe.

According to the doctors, this was due to the broken ribs, which took longer to grow back together stably.

But you believed it was just your imagination.

At least you hoped it was, otherwise it would take much more than a few hours of therapy to fix everything.

"How are you?", Soap took a step back to look at you from all sides.

A deep breath escaped you.

"The ear will never heal.", you shrugged. "Otherwise, everything will get better with time. But it will take time. A long time."

Pulling a face, he shook his head.

"You had a serious car accident. It's going to be okay.", he carefully palpated your forehead. "How's the concussion?"

"Should be gone. Doctor's appointment is next week."

"Your leg?"

You showed him by moving it a bit to all sides.

"All healed again.", you raised a finger before he could ask any more questions. "And the ribs are back together, too. Not quite fused yet, but that won't be long now."

For a moment he looked you up and down. Then he nodded contentedly and a smile appeared on his unshaven face.

"Good..."

"So how's Alejandro?"

"Mad that Sin Nombre is alive. But he'll get over it...", he needed a moment before he was able to open his mohr again. "I'm sorry."

Annoyed, you frowned and shook your head.

"Enough of that.", with a hand on his shoulder you turned him in the direction of your cottage. "I have a nice house, a fat comp and no problems. I'm set for life, Johnny. In Scotland."

"Just the way you wanted.", a rough voice suddenly said.

Confused, you turned your gaze towards the car.

Surprised, your eyebrows rose.

"Ghost?", you asked with a hint of a smile on your lips. "Still wearing that mask? Jesus, I thought you only did that on duty."

The masked man nodded his head in greeting.

"It's good to see you on your feet, 100.", he walked up to shake hands.

"It's (Y/N) now."

"Call me Simon then."

Your eyes moved to look at Soap.

"Did you bring him?"

He smirked.

"Thought you needed someone to cheer you up. Someone who isn't me."

"Good choice.", you nodded towards your cottage. "Want to join us, Simon? I might find some tea, somewhere."

"Won't say no to that.", there was an audible smile in his voice.