Unseen | Ghost x Soap

Chapter 9: Silent Vigil

Ghost's POV:

The whirring of machines and the soft beeping of monitors filled the sterile hospital room. Soap lay in the bed, his body still and fragile beneath the crisp white sheets. The fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over his features, accentuating the bruises and cuts that marred his skin.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes never leaving his face. The room was quiet, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and unexpressed emotions. It was just the two of us, a silent vigil in the aftermath of chaos.

Soap's breathing was steady, a gentle rise and fall that brought a flicker of relief to my heart. He was alive, and that was all that mattered. But seeing him like this, so vulnerable and broken, stirred something deep within me—a mixture of sorrow, guilt, and a fierce protectiveness.

I reached out, my hand trembling as my thumb grazed his cheek, the touch as light as a whisper. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the cold sterility of the room.

"You're safe now," I murmured, my voice barely audible. "I won't let anything happen to you."

I traced the contours of his face, my heart aching with the memory of what he had endured. The resilience and strength that had always defined Soap were still there, buried beneath the layers of pain and trauma. But to me, in this moment, he looked beautiful—an indomitable spirit even in his fragility.

"Johnny," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I can't lose you. I can't."

Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision as I continued to caress his cheek. The thought of what he had gone through, the torment and suffering, was almost too much to bear. I had seen many horrors in my time, but this... this was different. This was personal.

"I should have found you sooner," I choked out, my thumb gently stroking his skin. "I'm so sorry, Johnny. I'm so damn sorry."

His eyelids fluttered slightly, a faint sign that he was still fighting, still holding on. It was a small comfort, but it was enough to keep my hope alive. I leaned closer, my lips inches from his ear.

"Rest now, mate," I whispered. "I'll be right here. Always."

I stayed like that for hours, my hand on his cheek, my heart in my throat. The world outside the hospital room faded away, leaving just the two of us in our shared silence. The machines continued their steady beeping, a rhythmic reminder of the life that still pulsed within him.

I wouldn't leave his side. Not now, not ever. Soap was more than just a teammate, more than a brother-in-arms. He was a part of me, a part of my soul. And I would do whatever it took to help him heal, to bring him back from the brink.

As I watched over him, I felt a renewed sense of purpose, a determination to protect him from anything that might threaten his recovery. I would be his strength when he needed it, his shield against the darkness.

And in that moment, I vowed to never let him face the world alone again.