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

chapter 23

As the doors to the med bay glide open with a gentle hiss, the stark, sterile environment within greets you. The habitual hum of medical apparatus, designed to be comforting, somehow exacerbates the tempest brewing within your chest. 

The faces of the medics blur into the whirlpool of your thoughts as they hasten towards you, their voices appearing distorted, resonating as though from the depths of an underwater cavern. With a tender release, Gaz hands you over to the waiting grasp of a medic, yet your breathing continues its erratic dance, each inhale a labor, each exhale a plea for tranquility.

The encroaching panic casts a vise around your chest, the walls of the med bay seemingly edging inward with every thud of your tumultuous heart. The medics, swift and adept in their response, ease you onto the cool surface of a nearby bed, hastily attaching monitors to your frame to gauge the rhythm of your vitals. 

Soft murmurs of reassurance attempt to break through the maelstrom of your thoughts, yet they are swiftly swept away into the vortex of haunting memories and spiraling emotions that dominate your being.

The eternity of fear drags on mercilessly until the reverberating slam of the med bay doors heralds a sudden change. Ghost bursts into the room, his frantic steps resonating against the cold floor.

His presence slices through the chaos, his voice cutting through the fog, "Y/N?" The concern in his tone etches itself across the void, reaching out to you. 

"Are you okay?" His pace quickens as he navigates towards your bed, his eyes scanning the digital readings on the monitors before turning their focus onto the medics continuing their work. 

"What happened?" He implores, his gaze shifting between the figures at work and the screens displaying your vitals.

Your eyes lock onto Ghost, his familiar figure amidst the torrent of unfamiliar sensations brings forth a droplet of solace amidst a sea of disarray. Your fingers, trembling from the ongoing assault of fear, weakly stretch out towards him, yearning for a touch of reality amidst the chaos. 

"Ghost," you whisper, your voice a fragile echo, trembling through the sterile air. 

One of the medics, a young woman exuding a calming aura, steps forward to fill Ghost in, "She had an anxiety attack, triggered in the training room. We're attempting to stabilize her, but she remains in distress."

The nuanced dance of emotions across Ghost's face paints a picture of his concern, the crease on his brow deepening with every word the medic utters. As she concludes, his attention pivots back to you, gently enveloping your trembling hand within his warm, sturdy grasp. 

"Don't panic, just breathe," his words flow gently, attempting to quell the storm within. "Everything's gonna be fine. We're right here." His soothing voice casts a gentle ripple across the turbulent waters, a silent pledge of unwavering support as you navigate through the storm toward the tranquil shores of calm.

The fervency in Ghost's eyes, a harmonious blend of concern and unwavering resolve becomes your anchorage amidst the sea of tumult within. The tempestuous waves inside you gradually subside, giving way to the rhythmic cadence of Ghost's chest. 

With a concerted effort to synchronize your breath with his, you draw in slow, deliberate breaths and release them with measured ease. Each exhale ushers away fragments of the panic, leaving in its wake a budding sense of serenity. With every tender inhalation, the oppressive weight in your chest loosens its grip, the reality around you regaining its solidity as you find solace in Ghost's steadfast presence.

Ghost can sense the alignment of your breaths, the rhythmic dance of inhalation and exhalation calming your restless heart. As each cycle of breath reconnects you to the here and now, your senses awaken from the fog, the world around coalescing into a clearer frame.