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

Beneath the Stars

That night, you ventured away from the safehouse in search of your Lieutenant.

He had taken off not long after the meeting, and so you had spent the afternoon with Gaz and Soap, opting to give Ghost and Sandman some space after how the meeting had ended. You planned to speak to Sandman at some point - especially after the final jab he had made at Ghost about almost blowing your brains out - but you knew your friend, and you knew he needed time to cool down.

Ghost, however, you needed to push. Sure, everyone needed some space sometimes - but if you gave Ghost too much you knew that he would get lost within the depths of his mind, and tendrils of self-doubt and self-punishment would snake through his barriers of rationality. And you wouldn't let that happen. Not when you could stop it.

The soft crunch of gravel beneath your boots echoed in the stillness as you made your way to the bench overlooking a tranquil lake. It was one of the bodies of water you had seen on the map, and the safehouse was located close to its shore. And there, bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight, sat Ghost, his figure shrouded in darkness as he leaned against the weathered wood. The moonlight danced across the rippling surface of the lake, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow. The faint glow illuminated his features just enough to catch the subtle lines of exhaustion etched into his face.

You approached him cautiously, the faint scent of cigarette smoke wafting through the air. Ghost glanced up as you drew near, his expression unreadable behind the skull balaclava.

'Mind if I join you?' you asked softly, already knowing the answer.

Ghost shook his head, a silent invitation as he took another drag from his cigarette. You settled onto the bench beside him, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire. The wood was cold and slightly damp, the kind that seeped through your clothes and made your bones ache at the marrow.

Taking another drag from his cigarette, Ghost seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

'You want to talk about it?' you finally asked, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the air.

'Nothin' to talk about,' he grunted.

You leaned back against the bench, considering how to approach his hard layers of defence. The night enveloped you both in its quiet embrace, the only sounds the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Then, without a word, he offered you the carton of cigarettes and a lighter. You took both without hesitation. You lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, the bitter taste mingling with the crisp night air.

After an another moment you tried again, your voice soft. 'You know you can talk to me, right? Don't push me away, Simon. We've been through this before.'

Ghost's gaze flickered to yours, his eyes shadowed by the darkness of his balaclava. For a long moment, he remained silent, and took a long inhale of his cigarette. Then, finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. 'It's just... everything,' he murmured. 'I've been through enough. Should've known somethin' was off, and I'm not saying that to be self-pitying. Should've done more to protect you, should've not believed you were dead so easily.'

You felt your gut twisting at his words. You had been right, that he was already edging towards that dark place again - and over you, no less. It was then that you realised that the issue of your supposed death would haunt him for a long time coming, and he wouldn't be able to shake it off as easily as he would a bullet.

Reaching out, you placed a comforting hand on his arm. 'You did everything you could, Simon. None of this is your fault.'

He didn't acknowledge the touch, but he didn't pull away, either. His paused for a moment, and then rumbled low and form, 'You shouldn't have been involved.'