A Nurse and Their Ghost | Simon Riley "Ghost" x Reader

chapter 11

Each step you take feels heavier than the last, your arms and back screaming from the weight of Ghost, yet it's the emotional burden that weighs heaviest on your chest. As the rhythmic thudding of helicopter blades amplifies, your mind races through a torrent of thoughts. 

"Damn it, Ghost!" you mutter, mostly to yourself. The anger in your voice isn't directed at his wound but at his reckless self-sacrifice, a familiar pang of fear that you've come to dread in this line of work. The flashing lights of the chopper draw nearer, serving as a beacon in the pitch-dark night.

As the chopper closes in, you begin to feel the gusts from its blades, intertwining with the cool night air. With Ghost still cradled in your arms, you and your team cautiously make your way outside to the landing pad. 

Ghost's voice, although strained and filled with pain, whispers to you, "It's alright. I'm fine." 

You glance down at him, and despite the evident pain he's in, the calming, soothing essence of Ghost is palpable. The evacuation team approaches swiftly, and you are all poised to board the chopper, to distance yourselves from the harrowing scene.

The wind's rush and the cacophony from the chopper soon become a distant memory as you find yourself in the stark, sterile ambiance of the base's medical bay. Ghost is being hustled down the corridor, surrounded by a sea of medical staff. 

When a medic attempts to tend to the deep graze on your arm, you briskly wave them off. "I'm fine," you snap, perhaps with a touch more venom than intended. 

"Get him prepped for surgery," you command, your tone unyielding, allowing no room for dissent. "I'm taking lead on this one." 

Although there's a fleeting hesitation among the staff, with a nod, they escort him in, and you hastily follow suit. Concerns about your own injuries are shelved for now.

On the surgical table, Ghost lies pale and still, the gory imprint of the gunshot still visible amidst a swarm of prepped medical personnel. Despite the dire circumstances, the efficiency and focus of the medical staff instill a certain calm. He glances over at you, noticing the worry etched on your face. Yet, he also recognizes your steely resolve and knows there could be no better person to have by his side at this critical juncture.

As if whisked away by fatigue, you find yourself stirred from a restless slumber. The rhythmic hum of medical machines and Ghost's gentle breathing had lulled you into an uneasy sleep. As Ghost's eyes flutter open, they linger on your slumped form nestled beside his bed, the bandage encircling your arm peeking beneath the sleeve of your tank top. Even in sleep, the toll of the night's ordeals is plainly visible on your face, a slight furrow marring your brows.

Ghost's eyes find yours, and relief floods his features at finding you still there.His gaze trails down to the bandage on your arm, and worry clouds his eyes.With a grimace, Ghost attempts to sit up, but a sharp pang of pain from his ribs halts his effort.

"Hey..." Ghost manages to whisper, his voice laden with concern and pain. His gaze travels back to your arm, the concern in his eyes deepening.

Stirred from your restless slumber, your eyes flutter open to meet Ghost's lingering gaze. For a fleeting moment, a serene silence envelops the room, disrupted only by the rhythmic hum of medical machines. But as reality seeps in, the tranquility shatters, giving way to a torrent of memories from the perilous mission. 

As you lock eyes with Ghost, a rush of emotions courses through you. "You're damn lucky that bullet didn't hit somewhere worse," you exclaim, your voice tinged with a blend of exasperation and profound concern.

Ghost's eyes narrow too, the remnants of pain evident on his face, and he catches the anxiety flashing across your features. 

"So are you," Ghost replies, his voice strained from the ordeal, his concern redirecting towards you.