I Feel It In My Bones (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Keep it Tactical: Part One

The next ten days passed by smoothly. You worked your shifts, trained with Soap, and fell into a somewhat easy rhythm. You had smiled when he returned your tactical gear and uniform, miraculously cleaner than the day you had received them.

You spoke with Sandman over the phone when you had the chance, the two of you talking about anything and everything. Despite the distance, your connection with Sandman remained a tether to familiarity in the new world you found yourself in. The sound of his voice, the laughter you shared, and even the occasional moments of comfortable silence provided a sense of stability in the ever-shifting sands of your new reality.

Gaz sometimes came knocking, bringing food from the mess hall after he learned you preferred to eat in private. The gesture was warming, knowing that he had taken the time out of his day to pick out food and bring it to you on the other side of the base.

Price once called you to his office to discuss the possible bioweapon with Laswell and Shepherd. Speaking on a subject you were so well-versed in was easy; you enjoyed sharing the information, knowing that three pairs of ears were listening intently, absorbing the possibilities to be considered. It was impersonal. It was your job.

You weren't shy when it came to stating facts.

You were when it came to your lieutenant.

Twice, when you couldn't sleep, you returned quietly to that kitchen. Twice you had met the lidded eyes of your lieutenant, always in the same chair, always with that same mug of tea. Twice you had dipped your head and left, taking your hot coffee with you back to your room.

The two of you hadn't spoken since that one night, and the echoes of his conversation with Price played through your mind, but you couldn't help but notice that more often than you wanted, the wave of your thoughts often washed back in his direction.

His dark eyes, his low voice, his commanding presence.

You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren't curious about him.

One night, after a long day of training with Soap on the shooting range, you fell asleep the second your head met your pillow. It was rare that you were able to fall asleep so quickly, your slumber so deep and undisturbed. And rather than waking up intermittently throughout the night, it was almost morning when a crash of thunder woke you up.

At least, that was your first thought. Your second thought was, why does it sound like the thunder is coming from my door?

'Bones!' A gruff yell sounded through the wall.

You'd recognise that voice anywhere.

You catapulted out of bed, tossing the sheets aside, and grabbed your balaclava from the side table. You haphazardly pulled it over your face before flinging the door open wide. Ghost stood there in his uniform, balaclava and hard-shell skull on, fist raised as he prepared to knock once more. He pulled his hand away as your figure replaced the wooden door, those lidded eyes moving to stare down at you, taking you in but giving nothing away. Like he always did.

Except this time, so quick that you thought you had imagined it, something indecipherable flickered in his eyes. 'What's going on?' you asked, your voice thick with sleep, still adjusting to the sudden interruption of your rest.

His reply came as a low rumble. 'We're being sent to intercept a delivery. Gear up and get to the chopper. Wheel's up in twenty.'

There was no room left for questions, no room for conversation. It was an abrupt order, a call to duty. It was as though someone injected adrenaline directly into your veins and an anvil had landed on your chest at the same time. The air left your lungs, and the ticking of your pulse intensified.