Whispers in the Dark (Ghost/Konig)

(Nineteen)

Warning; this chapter contains mature scenes.

*Quinn's POV*

I watch the task-force go... well, Price and Ghost, and the few men they recruited for the mission. It hurts, being left behind, especially since I know why.

Price turns back one last time, giving a small salute paired with a reassuring smile. I smile back softly, waiting until the trucks are out of view before going back inside.

Konig is along the far wall, his worried gaze plastered on me as I ignore him, heading back to the infirmary to sit with Soap.

"They gone lass?" He asks, voice on the raspy side from just waking up. I nod handing him the cup of water from a nearby table.

"Gracias," he says with a grin, taking a sip a second later. It falls quiet for a minute, before he clears his throat.

"So.. mind telling me what happened?"

I glance up towards him with an eyebrow raised. His head tilts to the side dramatically, as if saying really? You're gonna lie right now?

"You and Ghost..?"

I sigh, shaking my head, "nothing happened." He scoffs, clearly not buying it. "He was all about you before I got hurt, what happened?"

I shake my head again, "he happened. All he wants is sex," I seethe, not thinking through my words before they come tumbling out.

Soap's gaze turns sympathetic, and slightly guilty for bringing it up. "It's fine, don't matter," I mumble.

"Alright.. and the freakishly large German?"

My gaze darts up to him, shocked he just said that, before both of us start laughing. "He's.. more complicated."

"He seems nice."

I laugh softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, just worried all the time. Like I can't do my job."

"Hey, that ain't a bad thing," he defends, "I'm worried all the damn time, so is Price and the rest of the lot."

I sigh, knowing he's right. "Konig.. he has a lot of anxiety. He knows it, I know it. It's what got him cut from being a sniper, couldn't sit still."

Soap hums, eyes on me as he listens intently. "He can't control it, I know, it's not his fault."

"Anyway to find the source and address it there?" Soap asks, genuinely interested in helping. It catches me slightly off guard.

"No, his childhood is the source. It.. wasn't great."

He nods in understanding, not prying for anymore information.

—

"You can talk to me Konig," I whisper softly, fingertips gently brushing across his as I stare up at him, his head hanging low to avoid my gaze.

"It's not interesting, libeling." He mumbles, trying to avoid the conversation again. "I want to help you. I know how it feels to be worried, paranoid all the time." I push, my hand finally grabbing his and holding it comfortingly. (Darling)

His breath hitches slightly, his blue eyes finally meeting mine again. "I'm not good with people, I never was."

I nod softly, waiting patiently for him to continue. "My dad he- he was a drunk. He'd hit me, leave bruises. The kids at school.. they'd pick on me for it, or for being too tall, or too quiet."

I squeeze his hand, rubbing my thumb softly over the back of his hand as his foot tapped nervously. "The military, it was supposed to kill me. Joining was supposed to be suicide. Until it wasn't, then I wanted to do something, make a name for myself."