Summary: Betrayal is thick in the air, but you still have Ghost
A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! I’m busy making pie. Is this out of character for him? I don’t know, maybe. It’s only a drabble.
Your hands shake as you sit on the cot. His gaze is heavy as he watches you. You know he’s worried, they all are. You haven’t said a word since they got you out of that warehouse. Ghost won’t leave your side–barking out orders. The needle goes in and out of your skin. Stitching up wounds. There are so many. You don’t feel it. You don’t feel anything.
It’s always those that you trust. Betrayal licked up your spine, red hot, branding itself angrily on your skin. Graves held a gun to the back of your head, walking you down a long corridor. If you weren’t going to be collateral, you sure as hell would be bait.
You never doubted your team. Sitting with your arms chained above you, a split lip, an eye swollen closed. Not once had you uttered a word. You’d endure. You always have.
“She’s in shock.”
“She was fucking tortured.”
“I don’t think that’s what did this. I think Graves–”
“Graves did what?” Simon’s voice held a threat, one you didn’t want to test.
A deep sigh. The doctor levels him with a look. “She needs time. I know it may be hard for you, but be patient.”
You don’t leave for another three days. They lather you with gauze and antibiotics. Questions are thrown at you left and right. The team comes to visit. Soap kisses your cheek, his touch gentle but gaze full of rage. You didn’t need to say anything, Simon always scared them off before it became too much. A brief twitch of your lips. Who needs words when body language exists? When it’s time for you to go, you don’t go home. Brows furrowed, you look at Simon.
He appears relaxed, but you know better. You’d like to think out of everyone on the team, you had all his tells down to a science. Maybe even some new ones that he didn’t know he had. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. The fact that he’s gloveless throws you off. His jaw moves under his mask, clenching and unclenching. He’s got built up anger and no way to let it out.
“I want you to feel safe.” He finally bites out, voice gruff from lack of use. He flicks his eyes to you. “Do you trust me?”
Trust him? Trust him? There wasn’t anyone that you trusted more. He could have your heart and you would break it for him, because he’d never do it himself. He’d rather die. He’d rather die than have you go through what had happened to you.
You nod in confirmation. It’s not what he wants, but he’ll take it. It’s all you can offer right now. Your lips twitch when his hand grabs yours.
The SUV barrels down the road, silence lingering between you. It’s comfortable, not the kind that has to be filled. You have no idea where you’re going. Not that you mind. Your eyes cut over to the burly man beside you. Your heart rattles in your ribcage, desperate to break out and go to him.
Go to him like you knew he’d come to you. You never doubted him. Not for a second. You squeeze his hand. He looks at you, dark eyes tracing over every inch of your face.
Simon is a private man. You know almost nothing about him. Or at least you thought you did. But as he takes you somewhere for only you and him, somewhere for him to take care of you the best way that he can. The only way he knows how. You realize he’s let you in more than you had thought.
“Simon,” your voice is rough, low. It scratches at your throat. It makes you cringe. You never said a word when you were held hostage, but that didn’t mean you never screamed.
His hand tightens around yours. He hears you. He knows. He'll help you forget.
