GRIEF

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Summary: After waking up from a nightmare you run into Ghost who confronts you about your past behavior

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Summary: After waking up from a nightmare you run into Ghost who confronts you about your past behavior.

Looking up from a blinding screen, groggily trying to make out the warped masses in the surrounding dimly lit room

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Looking up from a blinding screen, groggily trying to make out the warped masses in the surrounding dimly lit room. Your vision is blurry, as though you've just awoken from a long nap. Overworked hands aching from their resting position on the faded keyboard before you. How long have you been here in this desolate place, you can't seem to remember.

Suddenly words are berated at you in a language you don't understand. Vision blurring as you're snacked harshly across the face by a gloved hand. Eyes reopened, recovering from the blow now adjusted to the dark, making out the silhouette of a figure. A man sitting beside you at the desk, keeping watch with a hand resting on his firearm.

Your focus regained, back to work... This is how you stay alive, you're useful, you have to remain useful. The sheer terror of your situation often brings you to a standstill, ending in a violent awakening like this one, often worse. You have the scars to show for it, payment for your biggest mistakes. So you never forget just how fragile you really are. Wounds I may heal, but the scars will always remain, visible and invisible alike.

Doing your best to concentrate on the screen in front of you, but no matter how hard you try you can't read any of it. No amount of blinking deciphers the gibberish you're desperately scanning. You adjust yourself, hands back to resting on the keyboard, desperately trying to keep calm.

It was this or death, none of your attempts at signaling to the outside world had gone anywhere. It's not like anyone was looking for you. Your cohorts were already dead, no one else even knew where you were. This is what happens when you fly too close to the sun, like a bug flying into the zapper, you brought this on yourself.

'I'm on my own,' Words like sparks ricocheting around your brain.

Your watcher's hand suddenly parts from his gun to answer the frantic voice coming through the static of his walkie. The few others in the room are suddenly racing for the door. Your brain feels as though it's short-circuited like you're missing some of the data and are rubber-banded forward through darkness.

We'll Be Fine - (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader)Where stories live. Discover now