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

chapter 41

The echoing footsteps in the base's familiar corridors, combined with the low murmur of distant conversations, normally gave a sense of comfort. Yet, in the week since Ghost's and your mission, an unsettling quiet had woven its way into your everyday. 

It was a silence that screamed louder than any conversation, a void left by Ghost's obvious withdrawal from your life. Gone were the days when he'd unexpectedly be by your side in the med bay or share that comfortable silence over meals in the mess hall. 

Instead, every time you'd turn a corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, all you'd find was the shadow of his departing figure, slipping into another passage just out of reach. The emotional weight of it all pressed on your chest - a profound sadness, punctuated by pangs of concern for him. 

You vividly remembered the cabin's incident and the look in his eyes afterward. He was wrestling with inner demons, and every day he kept his distance, those demons seemed to tighten their grip.

So, driven by a mix of determination and desperation, you started your search. 

The training room, a space where Ghost used to lose himself in grueling routines, lay hauntingly empty. Imagining the familiar sound of gunfire, you approached the range, hoping to find him engrossed in the repetitive motions of reloading and shooting. 

But all you met was silence. 

The armory, with its meticulously organized gear, lacked his discerning presence. The mess hall, a backdrop to so many shared memories, was just a sea of unfamiliar faces now.

Growing increasingly agitated, you finally stood in front of the one place you hadn't checked – his personal quarters. 

Perhaps you'd subconsciously avoided it out of respect for his boundaries, or maybe the fear of confronting the reality of his distance kept you away. 

Nevertheless, there you were, heart thudding audibly in your ears. You hesitated, taking a steadying breath before raising your hand to knock.

As the seconds passed, the chilly air seemed to seep through the thick walls of the base, intensifying your sense of vulnerability. Finally, the muffled sound of footsteps gave way to the door's slow creak. 

Ghost stood there, his familiar features looking alien due to the sheer distance in his eyes. The detachment in his gaze was heart-wrenching, leaving you grappling with a mix of hope and trepidation, caught in the limbo of the unexpected standoff.

The oppressive silence in the room hangs heavy, laden with words left unsaid, emotions unchecked, and tension that can be felt with every heartbeat. Ghost, the person you've come to rely on, stands before you looking like a fortress – unyielding and cold. 

But beneath his guarded exterior, you catch a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability that he tries so desperately to hide, like a small crack in a fortified wall.

"Can I come in?" you ask, a mix of caution and hope tinging your voice.

Time seems to stretch out in his pause. But, eventually, with a silent nod and a step to the side, Ghost grants you entry. Stepping into his quarters feels akin to entering a dimly lit sanctuary, where shadows seem to play with the sparse light, reflecting the very emotions both of you are grappling with.

Every detail in the room seems to magnify the tension – the dimness of the lights, the muted sounds from outside, and especially the way Ghost stands, expectantly, as if bracing himself for whatever comes next. His gaze, usually so piercing and decisive, now flits with a myriad of emotions: conflict, sorrow, and a deep-seated pain.

Gathering your resolve, you bridge the physical distance between you, each step echoing the emotional journey you've been on in the past week. 

"Ghost," your voice carries both gentleness and firmness, "We can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this."