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

chapter 49

In the shadowy realm of unconsciousness, a part of your mind stubbornly clings to clarity, dissecting the situation with a detached, analytical precision. The sensation of hovering between awareness and the void is akin to being submerged in deep waters, where sounds are muffled and every touch is distant.

A voice within you, the part trained as a medic, launches into a clinical assessment, but this time, you are the patient.

"Loss of blood.. judging by the throbbing and warmth, it's significant.

Where was the entry point? The side? Maybe the abdomen too.

And the pressure, they're trying to stem the bleeding.

Shock... Probably set in by now.

It's making it hard to focus, to piece things together.

My heart rate feels erratic, yet incredibly weak. Every beat echoes with dizziness.

The sensation of blood draining, pulsing, spreading... it's all so vivid even in this half-awake state."

Memories of your training, of soothing words whispered to countless patients, of long nights in surgery, all coalesce in your mind. The irony isn't lost on you; you've been a comforter at death's door many times, yet now, on the receiving end, the experience is surreal, a frightening unknown.

"What was the last thing I saw? Ghost? His face, the fear, the anger..."

You strive to surface from the depths of unconsciousness, reaching for the remnants of thoughts, the echoes of distant voices, the snippets of memories that flutter at the edge of your awareness.

There's a desperate yearning within you, an urge to see Ghost's concerned eyes just once more, to reconnect with the world you're teetering on the brink of leaving.

Ghost is a whirlwind of intense emotion, each second heightening the urgency in his actions. His grip around you tightens, a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil. He struggles to maintain a facade of calm, but beneath it, anger and fear simmer close to the surface.

His voice, usually controlled, now cracks with strain as he barks orders at the other operators. He knows all too well that every moment is crucial for your survival.

As the team scrambles to secure the helicopter, Ghost is at the forefront, propelling everyone forward with his urgency. His efforts to stay calm are betrayed by the tense, almost desperate way he holds you, feeling the weight of your body in his arms, his heart racing with each rapid step he takes.

In the surreal half-world between consciousness and the abyss, your senses drift in and out of focus. You're dimly aware of the commotion, the urgent movements that reverberate around you. Ghost's voice cuts through the fog, distinct and laden with a tumult of emotions.

"Get this damn bird in the air! NOW!" The mixture of fear and anger in his tremulous shout lays bare the depth of his terror.

The chopper's blades whir to life, their metallic hum and roar drowning out other noises. You faintly register the sensation of being gently laid down, the hard surface of the helicopter's floor pressing against your back.

Despite everything, Ghost's hand remains steadfastly in yours, an unyielding anchor in the chaos. As the helicopter lifts off, the sensation of rising, the shift in gravity, signals your departure from the perilous ground, soaring into an uncertain future.

Ghost is teetering on the brink of his own emotional precipice, a storm of fear and anxiety raging within him. He's clinging to a semblance of control, holding onto you with a grip that speaks volumes of his inner turmoil.