The sterile room is pungent with antiseptic. The low tinge of iron from Simon’s blood stained gauze lingering just beneath the scent of bleach. For a place meant for rest, the lights are blinding. And the monitors beeping is fucking loud. But Ghost sleeps right on through… a tube down his throat keeping his lungs moving. Apparently the bullet hit one of his lungs. The left lung. And because of that it collapsed. Explains why he went delirious so quickly.. loss of blood, half the normal oxygen.
Soap lays on the bed next to him. Hardly a bed, more of a pad on a gurney. He’s fine. Just wouldn’t leave Simon either. Price and Gaz have been in a few times. Checking in, bringing you and Soap food. Offering to let you go get a shower and a nap. You declined almost every time. You decided last night you wreaked. You could smell yourself. Sweat, blood, dirt, and god knows what else caked to your skin. You figured if Simon woke up, you’d rather him not see you like that. He wouldn’t be happy you weren’t taking care of yourself.
So here you are, freshly showered, you ate what you could of the food Price brought in, but you couldn’t stomach much..
4 days… it’s been 4 whole days Simon’s been out. The doctors said it could take a week or two for him to come around.. “he just needs some time to recover.” They said. But you didn’t miss the pitiful looks the Norwegian doctors gave you. The ones that said “poor girl doesn’t know he’s already dead.” You didn’t believe their words. You didn’t believe their looks. You believed in Simon. That he’s tough… that he’s strong enough to overcome a few bullets.
They surgically removed the bullet lodged in his lung. They sewed up the opening and re-inflated it. You managed to find comfort in Price. His usual smile, his calm, confident demeanor. It always did put you at ease. Like a father figure. “He’s tough. He‘ll pull through.” He’d say before giving you a pat. Often saying “stop blaming yourself before I make you leave and get sleep.” He’d say with a wink. Walking towards the door with a “give me a shout when he wakes.”
You only believed him. Not the doctors, whose hands Simon’s life was in… but a man who killed people for a living. Ironic. Bet Simon would laugh at that.
You and Soap talked. And when I say talked… you TALKED. You learned all about Soaps home life. How his family disowned him for reenlisting after his first deployment. Said they couldn’t bear the heartache of losing another son. His only brother died as a teen in a car crash. His sisters sided with their parents. So.. he has no one waiting for him. It baffles you that his parents would rather have no son at all than one to welcome home.
You told him about your parents and their brutal murder. How you never had siblings and had no connections either.
Gaz joined into conversations. You learned the story about how Price picked him up in Piccadilly square after a terrorist attack. Been with him ever since. He also has no connections back home.
Simon silently listened to all the stories and soft laughter as he laid in the bed. The soft beeping of monitors soothing you slightly. A constant reminder he was still breathing.
And now, Gaz is resting in a room provided by the base, Price is probably resting, soap is asleep in the bed next to you two. Your hand rests gently in Simon’s.
Exhaustion weighs heavy on you. All you want is to be back at base. Your base. Curled into Simon’s arms. Only worry is planning what to eat when the cafeteria inevitably serves slop again, and whatever your next mission will be.
He’s been hurt before. But not to the point he needed to be intubated. And certainly not after… you finally got what you wanted… him.
Your exhaustion mixed with your thoughts send you to sleep. Darkness taking over your vision, simply can no longer be avoided.
Some time later you awake, but not peacefully. You dream of Simon being shot. Again, and again, and again while you just stand there doing nothing. He falls to the ground, gargling on his own blood. The choking, spitting sounds against the silence of the ringing in your ears. Your eyes snap open. To see Simon’s unmasked face, eyes wide open, choking on his intubation tube.
Your eyes widen, springing from your chair. “HELP!!! HELP!!!” You scream out to the hallway praying a doctor can hear you. Soaps eyes fly open. Frantically assessing why you’re yelling and Simon grabbing at the tube.
“Steamin Jesus! Don’t pull it out Simon hang on!” Soap says to him springing up from the bed then darting out the door for help. You put your hands on his jaw.
“SIMON! Simon look at me, stop! Don’t pull your tube out. I know it’s scary just wait!” His eyes are watering, trying to calm himself down, he grabs your hand like it’s a life line. His only life line. He squeezes it with strength you think might snap your bones. Of course, it doesn’t.
Doctors and nurses come flooding in the room, you pull your hand off his face, leaving your other one in his hand. Stepping as far out of the way as possible. In seconds, a swarm of people are standing over him. Checking vitals and shining lights in his eyes. Once satisfied with everything, they pull the tube from his throat. He greedily gasps in air.
Soap stands in the corner of the room one arm crossed over his chest the other covering his mouth in a fist. His eyes never leaving Ghost.
You, on the other hand, are standing at the head of the bed right by him. Whispering reassurances and telling him to stay calm, everything is okay.
The second the tube is removed, you pull one of his balaclavas from your bag and place it over his head. He grabs the bottom of it with his free hand and pulls it down over his chin; finally calming down for the first time in 5 minute. The nurses and doctors are still swarming him
“Miss, he can’t wear that right now, we need to…” the nurse says while reaching for his balaclava to take it back off. You quickly interject, ready to tell her “no, no don’t do that..” in warning when her finger tips brush the hem.
Simon’s hand springs from the bed latching onto the dainty woman’s wrist. The room goes quiet for a moment. Her eyes are wide and her mouth agape. Her bright blue eyes staring back at him. “hva faen er problemet ditt?!” She growls at him.
He looks back at you, never releasing her wrist even though she tugs. You respond “she asked, what the fuck is your problem?” He glances back at the nurse, shoving her hand away. If looks could kill, this woman would be six feet under.
He doesn’t grant her with a response. But you do shoot her an apologetic look. You lean down. “Simon, these people took us in when you and Soap were shot. Please… be nice…” you whisper at him.
“Fine…” one word. Good enough. His voice is so rough and scratchy from lack of use, and the tube of course.
You look up to the nurse. “Vær så snill å godta unnskyldningen min. Han er veldig kresen når det gjelder masken. Det får ham til å føle seg trygg. (please, accept my apology. He is very particular about the mask. makes him feel safe.)” the nurse gives you a sympathetic look. She nods sweetly, rubbing her wrist with her hand. Then glancing back down to Ghost, then ducking her head and taking off out of the room.
The doctor only smirks. A light chuckle coming from him. “If you want health care Mr. Riley, I’ll need you to be kind to my… uh… sykepleiere.” He jokes in broken English.
You lean over toward them “nurses.” He perks up.
“JA! Nurses.” He starts checking the bandages, 7 nurses jot things down as he mumbles them in Norwegian.
“Sir, if I may say somethin’…” soap pipes up. The doctors and nurses look to the corner where he stands. “…he might be naecer tae your lassies if ye only had 2 or 3 in har. Too many people overwhelms him.” He says softly to the doctor.
You decide then “it’ll also help if you tell him what you’re doing before you touch him…”
Simon sighs “it’ll help if you lot stop talking like I’m not sitting right here.” He says shaking his head. The doctor looks at you. You roll your eyes playfully as Simon’s out burst. You nod at the doctor. And he smiles back at you. The round glasses on his face rising with his plump cheeks. He’s older. A ring of grey hair adorning the sides of his head. A jolly demeanor. Has the best intentions for his patients. He nods at his nurses. Releasing all but one nurse. Then chuckles when the door slams shut. Huffs and puffs from the girls as they leave.
He smiles at Simon. “I’m going to check your wounds. That okay?” He says cheerfully. Simon nods at him looking at the ceiling. “fantastisk”. He gets to work pulling the bandages back examining. You and soap watch as he works. Soap moving closer to the bed. He says a few things the nurse writes down.
“You know, Mr. Riley, all the kvinner wanted to be in here to see the ‘kjekk, seks fot fire dårlig rumpa’” he uses air quotes. Your cheeks rise red. Jealousy tinging your ears and chest. And she tried to pull his mask off. Bitch. You think to yourself.
“The wha?” Simon says. You grit your teeth.
“The handsome six foot four bad ass.” You say lowly, anger hidden behind your relief he’s awake at all.
The doctor chuckles. “Ja. That.” He moves down to Simon’s leg, unwrapping the bandages there. “They said it looked like you could toss them around. ensomme jenter…” he finishes his statement.
“Lonely girls.” You add translating for Simon and Johnny. Soap chuckles under his breath.
“How daw ye do it, Simon. Ye were comatose far fuck sake, still pulling all the Bonnie’s. Right bullshit.” He finishes with a grumble.
Simon winces slightly, the doctor touching a tender spot on his leg. He lifts his mask to the bridge of his nose, pulling you in. He gives you a soft kiss. His lips gracing yours with nothing but adoration and infatuation. The kiss lasts only a a short time, then he pulls away holding you there, close to his face. He looks you dead in your eyes. “Women always want what they can’t have.”
The doctor smirks down at his leg. “veldig søt. You two are lovely. I’ll let the girls know you are utilgjengelig.” He smiles again then gets back to work.
“Said he’d let them know you’re unavailable.” You say with a chuckle.
“Ja. The men that come through here are gone in a flash. Stealing their attention with nothing. Makes their work slack.” He says with a shake of his head. “They were very focused on you!” He says cheerfully. “Good for you, bad for other patients.”
Soap chuckles loudly. “Ghost got pretty privilege!” He cackles out loud. Price bursts in the room with Gaz in tow. Finding Soap a laughing mess and you glaring at him.
Price shoves the two of you to the side metaphorically and heads straight for the doctor. “How is he doc?” He asks the doctor. “God! (Good!) he’s healing quickly. His sårs look better. I’ll leave you all to it.” He grins jolly and waddles out the door. The nurse, who is blood red from embarrassment darts out the room before he even finishes his sentence.
“How are you, Simon?” Price asks.
“We came as soon as we heard you were awake. Weren’t sure the Ghost was going to make it out of this one.” Gaz chimes in.
“Fine. Need some fuckin’ water…” He says pushing himself up in his bed with a struggle. Soap grabs the water off the side table and hands it to him. He pulls his mask up to his nose and gulps it quickly.
“Slow down, you’ll get sick…” you say lightly touching his wrist.
“My throats shredded from that fuckin’ tube.” And he’s right. You can all hear it in his voice.
Price chuckles. “We can tell. Your voice has dropped a few octaves.” He smirks crossing his arms over his chest. “They mention when you’d be back on your feet?” Price asks.
“No. They’re going to run some tests. I’m sure the nurses will be in to gawk at him, I’ll ask then.” You retort.
Soap bursts out laughing again. Covering his mouth trying to contain it.
You take a deep breath ready to explain, when Soap cuts in again. “GHOST GOT PRETTY PRIVILEGE!!” He cackles out.
You roll your eyes. “So while the doctor was examining his wounds, he said….” You start to explain what the doctor said, The nurses reactions, and the whole ordeal. The look on Gaz’s face is one of shock and humor. Price frowns with his eyebrows pulled together, eyes wide. Once you finish, Price chimes in.
“Who would’ve thought your ugly mug would earn you… what did you call it?” He stops himself.
“Pretty privilege, sir.” Soap says through a chuckle.
Price continues. “Yeah, that… rest up. I’ll check with the doctors. Got ya a room with a queen size bed here on base. An actual bed. Not this shit. We’re here until you heal up.” He gestures to the shitty beds provided in the ‘med bay’.
“Where’s Andrei. And Melina?” He asks. His voice filled with impatience and frustration.
“They have a small wing on the west side of the base. Locked rooms with nothing in them. They call it their prisoners of war rooms. I thought calling them cells would suffice. But they’re in individual cells. Being guarded by Laswells men. CIA shit…” he finishes.
Simon pulls himself up further trying to stand. “I have to interrogate them..”
“NOOO NO no no…” you and the others blurt out placing your hands on his chest lightly pushing him back onto the bed. “Simon you need to rest, I’ll handle it. I promise.” He looks up at you stunned.
“Since when do we care who’s hurt? We have a mission. And I aim to finish it. We need to find Makarov, and those two have the answers we fuckin need.” Anger rising in him and spewing with every word.
You look at the others “give me a minute. Please.” You plead. The other three nod at you and exit the room quietly.
“Simon…” you start but he cuts you off.
“Love I’m not broken. I still have a job to do please just let me go..” he pleads, reserving softness only for you.
“Baby I can’t… I can’t let you up. Your lung is collapsed. They re-inflated it but it could collapse again if you’re not careful. The bullet in your thigh nicked your femoral artery. Causing extensive blood loss. The bullet in your shoulder shattered your clavicle. They pieced it back together and tethered it down with bone screws. Barely. They BARELY got your bone back together. That one missed your subclavian artery by 2 millimeters. 2 fucking millimeters Simon….” You’re frantic now. The fear from the last few days finally pouring out over the man you were so scared for. “You coded on the fucking helo. I did CPR on you for 3 minutes before your pulse came back. You’d lost so much blood you fucking died Simon. Do you realize that? I got you back. Gaz cauterized your femoral artery with one of my blades stopping your blood loss. But you were still bleeding out of other veins. Your shoulder, your side which was apparently pouring blood into your lung, I’m surprised after they inflated your lung, you didn’t get pneumonia. Soap and I both donated blood. A few other soldiers here at this base; a few nurses even. Simon if you get out of this bed before you’re cleared I’m going to lose my mind. I didn’t leave your side. I didn’t go anywhere until price made me shower. PLEASE trust me enough to handle interrogating Melina and Andrei. I’m begging you…” tears plop onto your sweat pants. Little splatters of salty water staining the gray. Simon reaches up with his thumb and wipes away your tears. Stroking your cheek gently.
“Okay… okay I’ll stay right here. I’m sorry I scared you.” He says through a grumbling cracked voice.
“No, I don’t want you to be sorry… fuck.” You sob silently sniffling and wiping your own face. “Thank you…” you say softly. “Thank you for living…” you whisper through your tears. You stand from your chair kissing him passionately.
“I trust you.. I trust you Angel…” he whispers against your lips. “I trust you with my life. I can trust you with whatever you tell me I need to.”
You deepen the kiss. Heat, need, relief coursing through you. His lips are chapped. Days of intubation will do that… When you pull yourself away, you’re panting. “I’m sorry..” you whisper.
He leans his head to the side. “For what?” He asks perplexed.
“Too intense for just waking up…” you mumble. Embarrassment blushing your cheeks.
He chuckles before painfully wincing and grabbing his side with his free hand. “Sweetheart, if it weren’t for the cast and the stitches in my side I’d already be givin’ you a massage with a guaranteed happy ending, if you’d let me.” He says nonchalantly with a confident grin under the mask.
Your cheeks flush and eyes widen. “Jesus Christ Simon Riley you’re straight to the point.” You chuckle nervously.
He smirks. “Let me get better, I’m not letting you go.” You smile back at that.
“Alright. I’ll be back in an hour. Going to Melina first. I’ll tell you everything.. okay?”
He nods. “Okay…” he gulps his pride down. “Okay, I’ll be here. Go…” he releases your hand. Urging you out the door. You turn back and quickly close the gap again. Simon smiles into the kiss as you lay it all out.
“Fuck.. I’m so happy you’re alive…” you whisper into his mouth. “Don’t let any of the nurses get too close. I’ll cut their hands off.”
He chuckles as he watches you scurry out of the room, but he knows you’re not joking in the slightest.
This is not even slightly proofread. I couldn’t leave you guys thinking Simon died any longer.❤️
@that-blonde-girl @wottdolly
