Bittersweet | Simon Riley

EIGHTEEN

Ghost gritted his teeth, the file in his hands suddenly far less important as he saw Belle and Soap walking down the hall. He was immediately pushing down the hall, going against the flow of traffic with the other soldiers but he didn't care. Ghost had given Soap very clear instructions, rules, and this was the exact opposite of what he wanted. Within seconds he was at their side and a little glare on his face as he looked at his teammate who doubled as one of his best friends.

"Why is she out of bed?" Ghost asked, his eyes darting to Belle who scowled a little at how he was talking to Soap rather than her. Soap looked awkwardly between the two of them, clearly not having expected to be caught in the act with her. Belle gave him a little apologetic look, knowing what lecture was about to occur from Ghost.

"She was hungry." Soap tried explaining and Ghost looked back to Belle. She looked in bad shape despite multiple days passing since the mission gone wrong. The bruises had to get worse before they got better, and she had a concussion that worried him more then he'd admit to. Plus, she had a few fractured ribs that would take a few weeks to heal.

"You could've brought her food," Ghost said, his tone sharp and angry as he snapped at the man who he had trusted to take care of her. Soap put his hands in the air as if to show he was innocent, and Belle rolled her eyes as Ghost gave Soap a little glare. "Or called me." Ghost shifted his gaze to Belle who he'd given his number for situations like this.

"You were in a meeting." Belle reminded him and Ghost rolled his eyes, as if that would've stopped him. Sure, the meeting had been important, but it was nothing he hadn't heard before. It was something he was absolutely willing to skip and get the punishment for just to bring her some food and make sure she was staying in bed where she was safe. "And I felt like I was going crazy. I can't sit in my quarters all day." She reasoned with him, and Ghost crossed his arms as if that would intimidate her.

"You can." Ghost huffed, not even willing to hear her argument about her leaving her private quarters. Belle was hurt and that's what mattered in his mind, the doctor had said she needed to stay in bed, and he would listen to the doctor ten times over before whatever she had to say about it. He knew full well that Belle wanted to get back to her daily tasks even if she was injured and had taken it upon himself to make sure she followed the doctor's orders. "And you should be." He said motioning to the hall as if telling her to go back to her bed.

"Johnny." Belle looked to the Sottish man who was completely willing to leave.

"Yup." Soap said, quickly turning on his heel and turning into the mess hall. Ghost's brows furrowed a little as he glanced between Belle and Soap, not exactly happy with the little interaction between the two. Not jealous, of course, but not understand when she had started calling him by his legal name rather than his callsign.

"Since when do you call him Johnny?" Ghost grumbled, not even bothering to hide his little irritation at the sudden change. Belle crossed her arms and tried to cover up the little wince which came from her at the little pressure on her ribs. Ghost rolled his eyes at how she tried to hide it from him when he had been more invested in her injuries then she had.

"It's his name." Belle simply said which was something that Ghost couldn't truly argue with. She had the habit of calling him by his real name despite his multiple complaints to her about it. But for some reason he had figured that was just something she did to get under his skin, not that she called everyone by their name.

"I don't like it." Ghost grumbled, words almost silent as he silently admitted how he felt about that, his words coming off more frustrated than anything. Belle rubbed her face, not believing that he was unhappy with her calling people by their name but decided to not start a damn argument about it. "Come on, I'll take you back to bed." Ghost said, gently grabbing her arm, his hand swallowing her bruised wrist with an uncharacteristic gentleness.