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

Heart on Your Sleeve

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

You stirred.

Slowly, awareness seeped back into your consciousness, dispersing the fog of unconsciousness. The sharp scent of antiseptic invaded your senses, mingling with the rhythmic beeping of machines in the air. Blinking against the glare of fluorescent lights, you felt a dull throb in your head, pulsating with each heartbeat.

What the fuck?

As your vision cleared, the beige room gradually came into focus. The walls were bare, save for a small digital clock ticking away the seconds on the wall opposite you. It was one of the private rooms in the medical bay where you worked on your new base with the task force. Except you weren't working; you were a patient.

You were lying in a hospital bed, the mattress firm and unforgiving. The soft hum of machinery surrounded you, and a faint beep, rhythmic and reassuring, emanated from a nearby monitor. An IV line was secured in your arm, its transparent tubing winding its way from a bag suspended above, a tiny drop forming at the tip before it disappeared into your vein.

You grappled with your memories, trying to recall how you had ended up in the hospital. It wasn't until several more beats from the heart monitor passed that flashes of the mission came rushing back.

The truck.

The driver.

You attempted to sit up, but a sharp twinge in your side forced you to abandon the effort. Wincing, you sank back into the bed, taking a moment to process the situation.

The shot.

The fall.

The river.

'My team'—your voice was a rasp as you thought out loud.

'We're okay,' a voice rumbled.

Your head snapped towards the source of the voice, but the sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over you, intensifying the pounding in your head. Your vision flickered, threatening to black out, and the monitor beside you registered an uptick in your heart rate.

You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

Ghost.

As the beeping of your heart rate returned to a stable rhythm and your vision cleared, you locked eyes with those familiar brown ones. As always, they were fixed on you with careful scrutiny. He sat near the corner of the room, opposite the door, dressed casually in his black hoodie and dark jeans. The unmistakable skull balaclava adorned his head, the same one he had worn that night in the kitchen.

'Anyone ever tell you that you look like the grim reaper?' you groaned. 'Almost gave me a damn heart attack.'

'You're in the right place to have one,' came his dry reply.

Ignoring the protest from your abdomen, you rolled onto your side to get a better view of him. The thin sheet covering your body twisted around your legs as you moved, tightening over the curves of your hips and legs. He remained silent, observing you as you pulled yourself into a more upright position, wincing at the tug of the IV attached to the soft flesh of your inner elbow.

You had questions—so many questions. They tumbled out of your mouth, flying at your lieutenant. 'Gaz-' you began, your voice straining slightly from the effort of moving.

'He's fine,' Ghost assured, his tone firm. There was an edge to it that made you pause, but there were more urgent questions in mind.

'The mission. The driver–'