Shattered Bonds
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader
Word count: 2.6k
Overview: In the aftermath of your brother's mysterious death, a shattered bond of trust separates you from your closest friend, Simon.
CW: Grief and loss, substance abuse, mentions of death, mild violence, mental health.
Author's Note: Thinking about doing a second part to this. Let me know if I should make it a happy or sad ending. Please like, comment, and REBLOG.
Your deepest nightmare had manifested itself into reality. You were completely and utterly alone.
Although, to be fair, your residence was currently bustling with individuals. Some were acquaintances from high school, while others were mere strangers. Nevertheless, none of their presence held any significance.
For in that very moment, you were truly alone in this world.
Your brother, confidant, partner in mischief, your lifeline—had passed away. You grappled with the daunting prospect of life without him. The idea of moving forward, devoid of his calls, embraces, or even his woefully bad dad jokes, was unfathomable.
You sat on your couch, surrounded by well-intentioned individuals attempting to offer solace, their words often fading into a distant murmur.
"He's in a better place now."
"He'll always be with you."
"Your brother was a great man."
_______
A month had crawled by since the funeral, each day stretching out like a lifetime. From the moment you woke up to the departure of the last guest from your home, time moved at a glacial pace, as if it had forgotten how to flow.
The ache in your heart remained as profound as ever, a constant companion through these long, lonely weeks.
Your nightly routine had undergone a transformation, abandoning its structure and order. Instead, you settled for a quick shower before cocooning yourself in the familiar embrace of your sweatpants and a t-shirt that had once belonged to your brother. The fabric still carried his scent, a faint trace of his presence that offered a small measure of comfort in this new, uncertain reality.
The kettle on the stove reached its boiling point, its shrill whistle slicing through the heavy air just as a knock echoed at your door. You took the kettle off the burner, wondering who it could be at this late hour of the night.
"What are you doing here?" You questioned, your gaze drilling into the man before you.
"I came to make sure you were okay," he replied.
"Cut the act, Simon. You ignore my calls, don't bother with my texts, and now you think you can just show up out of the blue?" You huffed, your indignation evident.
"I know, I'm sorry," he admitted.
"Sorry?" You questioned incredulously. "This has been the most excruciating month of my life, and you were nowhere to be found!" A tear welled up in your eye, and you sniffled. "I needed you," you admitted weakly, your vulnerability surfacing in the midst of your anger.
He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your waist. "I'm here now," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. With a tender gesture, he pulled you into his chest, enfolding you in the warmth of his embrace as his arms wrapped around your weeping form.
You had the impulse to resist, to push him away, but the exhaustion of the past month had drained you of all resistance. Instead, you surrendered to the solace of his arms, seeking the comfort that had been absent ever since you'd received the devastating news about your brother.
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle or a quiet sob that escaped your lips. Simon held you tightly, understanding that words couldn't mend the pain, but his presence might provide some respite.
As time passed, you both remained locked in that intimate embrace, sharing the weight of your grief. The world outside seemed to fade away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, united by loss and the fragile bonds of friendship.
Eventually, you pulled away, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. "It's cold, come in. I was making tea." You offered, feeling calmer than you had all month now that Simon was here.
You led Simon into your cozy living room, the scent of tea already permeating the air. The familiar surroundings of your home offered a sense of security, and you found yourself beginning to relax, the tension in your shoulders easing.
As you settled onto the couch, you couldn't help but think about the history between you and Simon. He had always possessed a calming presence, a quality you had sensed from the first time your brother had brought him home, introducing him to your family as his best friend.
Since that day, Simon had become a constant presence in your life. You struggled to remember a time when he wasn't there, a reliable and steady companion through the ups and downs of life. His absence during this difficult month had been a stark departure from the norm, but you were determined to cherish the connection that had endured for so long.
Simon nodded appreciatively as you handed him a steaming cup of tea. "Thank you," he said softly, his eyes reflecting the depth of his regret.
______
Simon stayed around after that, choosing to sleep on your couch instead of returning to base. You didn't protest; in fact, you found comfort in his presence.
The days were a mix of tension and familiarity, with the occasional awkward moments, especially when you couldn't help but recall how Simon had left you when you needed him most. However, there were also moments of ease and comfort.
Growing up, you, Simon, and your brother had practically been inseparable, spending weeks, if not months, together in your house. So, in some ways, this situation wasn't entirely new.
As time passed, the two of you settled into a natural routine. Simon would depart during the days, his destinations often a mystery, while you worked from home, only venturing into the office when absolutely necessary.
This morning, like many others, Simon had already left before you had even gotten up. It was a pattern you had grown accustomed to; he usually went to bed later and rose earlier.
While preparing a cup of tea, your gaze happened upon the calendar magnetically adhered to your fridge. Today's date stood out, encircled and embellished with doodles, marking your brother's birthday. You hadn't forgotten what today was; in fact, you preferred not to dwell on it. The weight of his absence had made every reminder a poignant stab at your heart.
You found your gaze fixated on the calendar for longer than you'd like to admit, your thoughts mired in a swirl of emotions. Finally, you abandoned the idea of making tea, pouring out the water, and instead retrieved a twelve-pack of beer and a bottle of vodka from the fridge.
Slamming the fridge door shut, you felt a surge of frustration as that date continued to taunt you from the calendar. Placing the bottle of vodka on the counter, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You yanked the calendar off the fridge, crumpled it up, and forcefully deposited it into the trash can, as if by doing so, you could erase the painful reminder of the day.
With your work computer carelessly stashed into your bag, you abandoned the day's responsibilities. Instead, you reached for the TV remote, its familiar weight comforting in your hand. You powered on your favorite show, seeking refuge in its distraction.
Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the bottle of vodka, uncorking it with a swift motion. Without hesitation, you lifted it to your lips, taking a shot. The fiery liquid burned its way down your throat, and you welcomed the sensation, hoping that the alcohol would soon numb your senses to the point where you wouldn't remember the day of the week, let alone the painful date etched in your memory.
______
The sun had begun its descent on the horizon when Simon finally returned home. He anticipated finding you either at the table diligently working on your tasks or perhaps sitting on the couch, engrossed in a show or book. However, the sight that greeted him sent a pang of sorrow through his heart.
There you were, sprawled out on the couch, your form limp and vulnerable. Empty beer bottles lay scattered on the floor around you, and a half-empty bottle of vodka sat ominously on the coffee table, a stark testament to the attempt to drown out the pain that had overwhelmed you.
Simon let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing upon him as he dropped his bag on the floor. With a sense of determination, he made his way over to you, gently picking up the empty bottles and disposing of them in the kitchen trash. The half-empty bottle of vodka found a new home in a cabinet that he hadn't seen you use before.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with both worry and understanding. "Let's get you to bed."
With gentle strength, he carefully lifted you from the couch and carried you to your bedroom. There, he assisted you in changing out of the alcohol-scented clothes and into a clean t-shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts, maneuvering your body with utmost care. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, his actions were marked by a deep sense of compassion and an unwavering commitment to helping you through this difficult time.
He tucked you snugly into bed, making sure you were comfortable before reaching for the cord on the lamp. Just as the room dimmed, your hand reached out and gently grasped his wrist. Your voice was groggy as you asked, "Can you stay with me tonight?"
"Of course," he answered without hesitation. He got into bed beside you, providing the reassuring presence you so desperately needed.
You wasted no time, curling up in his side and laying your head on his chest. His arm circled around you, keeping you securely tucked into his side.
You lay there in silence, desperately attempting to coax yourself into slumber, yet sleep remained elusive. Your mind had become a battlefield ever since Simon had unexpectedly appeared at your doorstep, relentlessly tormenting you with a single, haunting question.
No matter how hard you tried to move past what Simon had done, it proved to be an impossible task without an explanation. His abrupt disappearance from your life continue to baffle you, leaving a gaping void that couldn't be filled. In the quiet of the night, you summoned the courage to confront him, unsure if he was already asleep.
"Simon?" you whispered hestantly.
"Hmm?" came his drowsy response.
Taking a few deep breaths to steady your nerves, you pressed on. Asking the question that had relentlessly gnawed at your thoughts ever since Simon had taken refuge in your home. "Why didn't you come to the funeral?" Your voice was barely louder than a mouse's, laced with uncertainty
"I was working," Simon repeated, but you weren't convinced. you knew him too well. His voice had that ever-so-slight elevation that only someone intimately familiar with him could detect.
You leaned in closer, your eyes narrowing in the dim light of the room. "Simon, we've been through too much together for me not to know when you're lying. What's the real reason you didn't come? Why didn't any of the task force come?" Your words carried a mixture of frustration and hurt, a reflection of the years of friendship that seemed to be unraveling before your eyes.
Simon let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. His reluctance to meet your gaze was evident as he finally confessed, "I was investigating your brother."
Startled, you sat up abruptly, putting some distance between yourself and Simon. "Investigating my brother?" your voice trembled with a mix of confusion and concern. "Why? Did he do something wrong?" The thought of your brother being involved in something illicit or dangerous sent a shiver down your spine.
The weight of Simon's revelation hung heavily in the air, and tears welled up in your eyes as you absorbed the shocking news. Your brother had dedicated himself to the military, pouring his heart and soul into his service. The idea of him being labeled as a "dirty officer" by the very institution he had sacrificed so much for was a painful blow.
Reluctantly, you found the strength to voice the question that you dreaded to ask. "Do you think he's dirty?"
Simon's silence spoke volumes, confirming your worst fears without a single word. The truth lay heavy between you, a bridge burned and a bond strained by the shadows of doubt.
With a heavy heart and a mind clouded by a whirlwind of emotions, you rose from the bed, determined to put some distance between yourself and Simon. The betrayal and uncertainty weighed on you, and you needed space to process it all.
As Simon made a move to approach you, you whispered, "Get out of my house," your voice barely audible in its initial plea. When he remained rooted in place, his expression confused and lost, you steeled yourself and repeated the command with a firmer resolve. "Get out of my house, Simon," you gritted through your teeth, your eyes reflecting the pain and anger that simmered beneath the surface.
His voice, pleading and full of desperation, called your name, "Please, we can talk about this." But you remained unmoved, consumed by a potent cocktail of hurt and betrayal. How could Simon, the one person who knew your brother as well as you did, lack faith in his innocence? Your brother was a beacon of integrity, and you couldn't fathom that he would ever betray his country.
Simon continued, his words slipping into your thoughts like a venomous serpent. "All the evidence-" It was as if a red mist descended upon you, a sudden surge of anger and frustration. In a fit of overwhelming emotion, you grabbed the nearest object, a lamp on your nightstand, and hurled it towards Simon. He reacted with lightning reflexes, narrowly avoiding the projectile, which shattered against the wall where he had been standing just moments before.
"The evidence doesn't matter!" you yelled, your voice filled with raw emotion. "He's innocent, and you know it! Stop lying to yourself!" No amount of evidence could sway your unwavering belief in your brother's goodness. It pained you deeply to see how easily Simon had been influenced, how easily the whole task force had been swayed, by what they had seen or heard, casting doubt on the man you knew your brother to be.
Simon, concerned for your well-being, moved closer and gently restrained your flailing arms, preventing any further outbursts that could lead to harm. "Listen," he implored, his voice earnest, "I'm trying to prove his innocence. It's just that everything I uncover makes him look worse. I can't keep going down this path and risk further damage to his reputation."
"Sounds like it's already been ruined," you retorted bitterly, your gaze filled with a mixture of frustration and contempt as you looked at Simon. The weight of your brother's tarnished reputation hung heavily in the air, a painful reminder of the chasm that had grown between you and the person who had once been one of your closest confidants.
Simon gazed at you with a mix of determination and remorse in his eyes. He nodded solemnly, understanding the depth of your pain and the importance of the task ahead. "I'll do everything in my power to clear his name," he vowed.
With a heavy heart, you replied, "Keep looking. Don't come back until you clear his name. I don't want someone in my house that doesn't believe in him."
Simon nodded once more, silently accepting your terms. He turned and left your room, his resolve renewed to uncover the truth and restore the faith you once had in him.
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