Sparrow

4

You woke from slumber with a shuddering gasp. You wrapped around and felt your side, making sure that it was just sweat coating your back and not blood.

You hadn't had that nightmare in a while. Thinking about Finch today brought the memory into the forefront of your mind. You looked down at the small bird tattoo on your forearm and brushed your thumb across surface.

Tears brimmed your eyes. What you wouldn't give to see him again. Just one more conversation, one more laugh, one more crooked smile.

Inevitably, the tears fell. Your soft cries that you tried to muffle with the blanket. You looked up at the mirror in the corner. The white claw marks on your face popping against your red, tear stained face.

Two soft knocks sounded at your door. So soft that you weren't positive you actually heard anything until you heard the low voice of Ghost.
"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." You quickly snapped back, wiping the tears from your eyes. You waited for the footsteps to recede, waited for the door of the next room down to open and close, but it never came. He stood outside of your door for what felt like an eternity.

"Y/n, I heard you yell. Can I come in?" Ghosts voice was monotoned, as though he knew you were lying to him. You cursed to yourself. You must have done that while you were sleeping. You grabbed your hair, wanting to rip it out of your head. You reached over, grabbing the mask off your nightstand and buckling it around your head while saying; "come in."

Your doorknob turned and Ghost's large form slipped in. He shut the door behind him and leaned back against the hardwood. He crossed his large arms over his chest, making himself comfortable as he looked at you with a cold, hardened gaze that caused you to fidget.

You picked at non-existent lint on your blanket, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo." Ghosts voice finally broke the silence from his place at the door. You looked down at the small bird on up it forearm, gently brushing your thumb along the surface.

Movement caught your attention as Ghost pushed off the door and walked to desk. He took the rolling chair from the desk and spun it around to sit by the edge of your bed. You watched as Ghost rolled his sleeve up on his left arm and revealed a half sleeve of tattoos.

Ghost offered his arm out to you for you to look. You leaned over, looking at the intricate designs on the skull patterns. Instinctively you reached out and gently took his hand in yours, turning over his forearm to look at the other side. You could feel him tense beneath your touch, him sucking in a breath.

Your eyes flicked up to his beneath the mask, worry flashing in them. Ghost looked at you, his eyes softening slightly.
"It's alright." His deep voice rasped out in a soft whisper.

You turned your focus back to his forearm, your fingers grazing delicately over the skin. You could see the goosebumps that formed on his arm from your light touch.

With your eyes returning to his, you leaned back in your bed. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, keeping a steady, comfortable eye contact. You owed him an explanation, he was losing sleep sitting here and making sure you were alright.

"Finch died in an air strike, looking for a woman's lost child." You finally spoke, your voice quiet and timid, as though saying it out loud made it real, and not just a horrible memory you locked away.

Despite the balaclava on his face, you could see his eyes turn up in sorrow. You slowly turned around in your bed, so you were now sitting with your back facing him. You could see his reaction in the mirror as you slowly lifted up the back of your shirt to expose your greatest insecurity to him. You watched him let loose of a sigh, his eyebrows knitting together as his eyes scanned your back.