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

The Reunion

You dropped to the gravel, shock exploding across your chest.

The sound of the bullet ricocheted through the still clearing, echoing in your ears and repeating with every panicked beat of your racing heart. But no glass smashed, no wood cracked, and no screams followed the gunfire. There was only silence.

It had been a warning shot.

The door to the cabin swung open, narrowly missing your head. A spray of dirt was kicked up, stinging your eyes as heavy footsteps approached. Groaning, you brought your hands to your face, wiping away the grit in an attempt to clear your vision.

'We got Shadows,' a voice barked somewhere behind you. It was gruff, deep, and carried with the sharpness of a northern accent that made your heart stutter in your chest.

Ghost.

Despite your streaming eyes, you attempted to push yourself off the ground, only to feel yourself being roughly hauled up by the back of your top. The rough fabric bit into your skin as your entire body was shoved against the side of the cabin. The remaining air in your lungs left your body with a sharp gasp. One hand pressed against your head, and your hands were gripped behind your back, rendering you unable to move. You struggled to turn your head to speak, but your face was only pressed harder against the wall. Managing to angle your neck slightly, you felt your left temple rather than your forehead against the cabin exterior. Splinters of wood painfully pressed against the gash running down your cheek. 'Don't even think about it,' a Scottish voice breathed into your hair. Soap. 'Give us one good reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out this instant.'

'Mmph–'

A soft click, and you felt something hard pressing against your temple. Cold, hard, metallic. A gun. 'I lied. There are no good reasons. Don't fuckin' speak.'

You pressed your lips together. You knew Soap, and you knew that one wrong move - or word - would likely result in a bullet buried in your skull.

Two more sets of footsteps landed beside you. 'Easy, MacTavish,' a second voice ordered. Authoritative, controlled, and pissed.

Price.

A jolt of surprise ran down your spine. You hadn't anticipated that anyone but Soap and Ghost would be here.

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Ghost approached the car and dragged Sandman out, gloved hands gripping the fabric of his shirt before slamming your friend against the side of the car. His free hand held a gun beneath his chin. 'What the fuck are you doing here? Tryin' to finish what Graves started? How did you even find this place?'

You should have been more frantic, really. You should have tried harder to slip out of Soap's grasp. You should have made more effort to reveal your identity. But you were paralysed, your vision and thoughts were focused on Ghost alone.

He wore his balaclava, a pair of dark jeans, boots, and a dark coat that made him impossibly bigger. He moved with malice, purpose, wound up so tight that it seemed liked the slightest thing would cause him to snap. He looked deadly.

Sandman seemed to recognise this too. He spluttered, struggling against your Lieutenant's powerful grip. His eyes widened as he tried to convey recognition through the tight pressure on his throat. 'Ghost, it's me, Sandman,' he managed to choke out.

Ghost paused, and the storm in his eyes seemed to shift for a moment. 'Sean?'

Sandman held his arms up, palms facing outwards. 'The one and only.'

Ghost didn't ease his grip - if anything, it tightened. His voice was almost a growl. 'Who's your friend? How did you find us?'

'It's Bones,' Sandman wheezed.