Reader who is passively suicidal. Who maybe doesnโt even realize it, but it bleeds into everything.
Youโve always had a dark, dry sense of humor that was easy to brush aside, but the first time this habit was glaringly obvious was on an op when you were almost hit by an enemy vehicle.
In this line of work it was natural to contemplate your death. Maybe you did it too much. So when that car was speeding your way, your first thoughts werenโt how to get out of the way, or survival, but rather how painful this death would be. Not because you wanted to avoid death, but that ideally it wouldnโt be that bad. So you didnโt move.
Instead of the unforgiving force of the car, you were hit with the warm body of Ghost shoving you out of the way. You both land hard on the dirt out of the road, but thereโs no moment to speak as youโre immediately under fire once more. Itโs like the impact kicked you back into gear, refocusing you on the objective and letting you continue fighting.
It doesnโt mean the boys didnโt notice. And it doesnโt mean they let you off easy. Once youโre back to safety, Simon drags you into the makeshift war room, basically tossing you in.
โWhat the hell was that, sergeant?โ His voice is hard. Loud. Heโs mad.
The rest of the team trickles in with varying degrees of dread on their faces.
You donโt feel much of anything. โWhat was what?โ
Simon scoffs, looking away in exasperation briefly before crossing his arms and stepping into your space to look in your eyes, โyou know exactly what.โ
Youโre confused. Why the hell would he care that much? Your eyebrow barely twitches. โLook I get I fucked up okay, Iโm sorry you had to save my ass.โ You really donโt give two shits that he saved you. If that had been the end of the line for you, you wouldโve been okay with that.
Everyone releases their air heavily, the room shifts. You donโt get why, itโs not like they havenโt had incidents like this themselvesโclose calls.
โI donโt give a ratโs ass that I had to cover you, thatโs what Iโm here for, sergeant. I care that it looked like you werenโt going to do anything.โ Heโs speaking softer now likeโฆlike youโll break. That just pisses you off.
โSo what, I froze?โ You take a step back, arms crossing over your chest, angling away from them.
โYou donโt freeze.โ
Thereโs a heavy silence that sneaks its way into every corner of the room before Johnny breaks it.
โItโฆit looked like you wanted to get hit.โ
The scoff that leaves you is unconvincing. โI wasnโtโฆโ you canโt finish the thought. Honestly you donโt know what you were thinking. You just know sometimes you get tired. And sometimes you think the easiest way to get rid of the ache is leaving.
Youโre not looking at them when Simon comes back and grabs your shoulder. He forces you to look at him, โโs not happening again. Clear? We need you.โ
They begrudgingly let it go. Who among them isnโt a little fucked up? But from then on youโre under a tight watch. All they find are more red flags.
You donโt take care of yourself, leaving eating and sleeping and showering to the last minute. You donโt seem to do anything you enjoy, no hobbies outside of duty. When you have time off they donโt see you and they assumed you left base, but then they see you emerge haggard from your room three days into their leave. Had you even been out of your room before then?
They donโt say anything because they know youโll deflect and scatter, but theyโre scared. Yes, you were their teammate but itโs become more than that. Even with the lack of energy you seem to display, youโre still unrelentingly there for them.
When Johnny got shot and miraculously lived, semi-paralyzed, and had to do months of PT, you were there. At every appointment, staying with him to take care of him and make sure he did his exercises.
When Simon went to his own dark places, you were there. Finding him half-delirious from nightmares in the rec room and making sure he made it back to his room. Giving him water and someone to talk to, making sure he didnโt go too deep. Which is why he was confused you couldnโt recognize the signs in yourself.
When Kyleโs mom unexpectedly passed, you were there. You booked the flights, packed his bags, kept him standing during the funeral. You negotiated for his extended PTO, never letting anyone mistreat him when he was down.
And when John was court marshaled for what happened with Shepherd, you were there. You helped Simon keep the team together, coordinated with Kate to keep him informed, you even helped formulate his case.
They might say loyalty was your fatal flaw. They just wished you could see these signs in yourself and give yourself the same treatment you gave others. But if you couldnโt, they would.
It was easier to see the signs now. You volunteering for the risky roles on ops, offering to be bait, choosing hand-to-hand encounters when you couldโve easily used your gun.
Theyโre lost. They donโt know what to do. If they stop you from taking these roles, chances are youโll say theyโre coddling you. If they take you off duty entirely, they might lose you forever. How do they balance supporting you and helping you?
They start with words. Making sure you understand how much the risks youโre taking affect them.
Itโฆconfuses you again. You didnโt realize they gave this much of a shit if you lived or died. You kinda just thought you were teammates. Any deeper feelings toward them you pushed down because you knew it wouldnโt be possible.
But when youโre strapping in to be repelled off a cliff, Johnny stops you. He grabs your shoulders and forces you to look in his eyes. โYer cominโ back, ya hear? We need ya.โ
You donโt even get time to respond before Kyle is swooping in and kneeling in front of you, finishing strapping your harness and double-checking the other connectors. He looks up at you and you try to ignore the image that invokes. โYou heard Johnny, love, we need you to come back.โ Heโs smiling that blinding-white smile that could probably cause world peace.
You figure your COs will be as stoic as always, but instead, John places a heavy, warm hand on your head, giving it a pat. He takes a deep breath before his hand comes down to the back of your neck and tells you, โwe trust you sarge, come back to us.โ
Your brain is basically empty trying to process all the excess affection when Simon brings a hand up to fix the hair John just rustled. Heโs never done that before. You never imagined him ever doing that. You can feel the warmth of his skin on your forehead through the glove. โWe need you back. Rog?โ
You canโt even think before youโre nodding and saying โrogโ back.
Youโre halfway down the cliff before you even register half of what happened. Your chest is warm, and you think your cheeks are too. You canโt place the feeling but it feels almost like the ice in your body is thawing, like youโre coming back to yourself after being gone for too long.
It doesnโt cause too much permanently the first time, but they keep doing it. Every single time before an op, every time you volunteer for some risky procedure, hell even randomly at lunch now. Some of it is starting to worm into your brain that maybe you have people that care about you. That would care if you were gone.
Itโs not a cure, not a quick fix, but itโs making you rethink some of the things you had taken as factโlike that you are expendable. They keep insisting, silently and loudly and in all the space between, that you arenโt. Maybe you should start to listen.
