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

Snowfall

Recovery wasn't all too terrible. You'd been unconscious for weeks, so any major healing was already underway.

Getting used to your legs was definitely an experience.

You could still feel the rest of the legs, any pain and any slight itch. You couldn't scratch it, but you would still feel it. It drove you crazy.

Good news was your prosthetics were already being manufactured. Any measuring had been done while you were asleep, thankfully. Laswell had managed to pull some strings to get them ready for you as soon as possible.

You sat alone in the small room, resting for the most part. It probably wouldn't be too long before you were discharged, right?

The doctors had mentioned something to you and Soap about it a day ago, but you weren't entirely paying attention. Rather, you focused on the doorway more than anything.

You'd been awake for a few days now, yet he hadn't come to visit.

He was probably busy. Soap had informed you over an upcoming mission that they were going to be deployed on relatively soon. Obviously, without you.

You weren't busy, though.

Bored, would be the appropriate term.

The beeping of the monitor at your bedside was a nuisance, but you'd learned to tune it out to some success. The white walls were practically burned into your retinas, along with the magazines that were in Russian.

At least you could look at the pictures?

It almost felt like you'd been thrown back into being a toddler. Couldn't really walk, couldn't read.

Boredom and frustration weren't a great combo, and only served to make you increasingly restless.

Soap knocked on the doorframe to your little room, a mischievous smile was spread across his face. A knitted hat sat upon his head, covering the tips of his ears. He was clothed in an olive green long-sleeved sweater, but still sported the military cargo pants and boots.

You cocked a brow, "What'd you do?"

"Dinnae ken what you're talkin' bout," his smile somehow spread wider, showing off his teeth.

"Your accent gives you away," you chuckled.

"Aye, ya caught me," he paused, stepping back from the doorway and wrestling with something, "..Think you'll enjoy it."

"Oh?"

He came back into view wheeling in a wheelchair through your door.

Your heart jumped in excitement.

"Nurses said you'd been bored. Figured I could take ya for a walk," he brought it closer, before stepping around it and standing next to the side of your bed.

"I might've been bugging them a little bit," you paused, taking a long look at the chair before looking at him. "Thanks Soap."

"My pleasure," he chuckled, before taking another step closer to you. "Here," he holds out his arms.

"Raise ya arms," he instructs, and you do so. "Hold onto my shoulders," you wrap your arms around his broad frame, as he leans and picks you up from under your arms, easily lifting you.

He sets you down into the chair, and you slide your arms down onto the rests of the chair.

"Comfy?"

"Almost," you tug off a wool blanket from the top of your bed and place it over yourself.