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

chapter 31

The relentless hum of machinery and the ceaseless, low murmurs of medics have morphed into the familiar soundtrack of your existence in the med bay. An entire month has ebbed away, and while your physical scars have embarked on a healing journey, emotionally, a gaping wound seems to gnash at your spirit with each day that surreptitiously slips away. 

The med bay has been swallowed in an unprecedented tumult, with soldiers streaming in daily, their bodies etched with narrations of cuts minor and traumas profound. It's ensnared you in a whirlpool of busyness, perhaps excessively so, with days blurring into one continuous stretch of time. 

Yet amidst this orchestrated chaos, it's Ghost's conspicuous absence that etches a haunting silhouette against the backdrop of your reality. Since that serenely tranquil night under the cascade of stars a month ago on your birthday, Ghost has morphed into an elusive shadow, slipping through the grasp of your understanding just as you think you've ensnared him in a realm of clarity. 

Initially, your encounters with him were fleeting, truncated by the urgent call of duty or a summons he couldn't ignore. You brushed it off the first few times, assuaging your nagging thoughts with the belief that he's just engrossed in his duties. But as time slithered away, a budding notion of a palpable shift began to burgeon within.

Now, the scene has contorted to a point where you harbor the feeling that Ghost has been weaving a deliberate tapestry of avoidance around you. You'd snatch glimpses of him, only to watch him vanish into the enigmatic abyss before you could bridge the chasm of distance. And on those rare junctures where words did exchange realms between you, he seemed... distant. 

This demeanor isn't entirely alien when it comes to Ghost, truly, but it's as though a newfound barrier has erected itself between you, a wall your efforts seem incapable of crumbling. Each night, as the med bay descends into a tranquil haze with the dimming of lights and the departure of the last lingering patient, you find yourself nestled in the cradle of contemplation, replaying that night under the stars. 

Searching amidst the silences and spoken words for any semblance of insight into what transpired wrong. Is his retreat triggered by something you said? Or was it a gesture, perhaps? The gnawing uncertainty, paired with the relentless pace at your workplace, gradually consumes your peace.

A few days hence, the med bay door swung open with a stern resolve, revealing Soap with a grimace cradling his visage and a nasty gash on his arm, a dark tale of blood sullying his camo sleeve. 

Without a verbal exchange, you ushered him over to a bed, gearing up to stitch him back into a realm of recovery. The room got engulfed in the sterile, medicinal scent of antiseptics as you commenced cleansing the wound. 

"What happened?" you inquired, your focus tethered to the task at hand.

"There was a minor ambush outside the camp," Soap responds quietly. His countenance is stoic, and his tone sober, a silent storm seems to dwell in his eyes as they meet the wound under your tender ministrations. ".....they caught us off guard. I got lucky."

Your gaze lifted, traversing the contours of Soap's face, searching for scars unseen and tales untold. As you dabbed away the unwelcome blood with delicate strokes, a reassurance swayed on your lips. 

"Soap, you've always been one of the best here. But even the best can get caught off guard," your words flowed softly, a comforting river amidst the harsh terrain of reality. 

As the needle danced under your adept fingers, ready to mend the rend in flesh, the gravity of your milieu threatened to engulf you. But with Soap seated before you, a beacon of camaraderie amidst the turbulent seas, it felt like the cosmos had conspired to furnish you with the right moment.