💬 6 🔁 4 ❤️ 66 · Simon sees you again and you don't remember him on the battlefield. (Gender neutral reader)
Not proofread we die like Joh
It had been about a week since what the rest of the Task Force and base called The Encounter.
Simon was on another mission, being a good soldier. But his eyes constantly scanned the hostiles searching for your face. He thought he'd glimpsed you once, but by the time he'd cleared the corridor, you were already gone.
Sweat drenched his neck as he kept clearing corridor after corridor. He knew better than to hesitate too long before shooting, but his heart always gave a tiny jump everytime he had to shoot on sight.
He'd never forgive himself if he'd shot you.
The job was originally supposed to be stealth, but when Ghost was accidentally spotted, was he really supposed to just let them shoot him? Course not.
He kept making his way through, banking on the fact that he could maybe draw you out.
Sure enough you came out of one of the corridors. Unfortunately, you got the drop on him. He barely had time to block your arm. He barely could *hold* your arm away from him. "Jesus, what are they feedin' you here?" He grunted, managing to twist your arm away and pin you down.
You looked up at him. It was nothing like you. Full of anger and hatred and resent. You'd never looked like that. Not at him. You squirmed and thrashed hands clawing at his forearms. His chest twisted.
"What did they do to you, love?" He murmured. He grabbed his comms. "Got her."
"That was not the mission, Simon." Laswell's exasperated voice said.
"I did both."
A sigh. "Bring her back then."
He ziptied your wrists behind your back, and started half dragging you to extraction. You kicked, threw your shoulders, he was pretty sure you'd tried to bite him too.
He hauled you up onto the helicopter. He would've laughed at you almost face planting, but it wasn't you. Not really. Instead he grabbed the back of your vest and yanked you back up.
"Cooperate and it'd hurt less." He huffed when you winced.
No answer. He exhaled softly.
***
He'd tried not to listen to you yell and scream while the medics did their evaluation. But his brain absorbed every one, locking them away, sure to be another factor in his nightmares.
They had you on the exam table. Strapped down by your arms, waist, thighs, and ankles. Like an animal.
When a nurse came out Simon didn't say anything. Price straightened up beside him.
"Well. It's a neural implant. It's blocking her memories. The good news is, they aren't gone, just blocked."
"An' the bad news?" Price asked.
"We're not sure it's safe to try and take it out. There might be a way to override it. Try and get her memory back. Bring her things from here, talk to her, that sort of thing."
"And if it doesn't work?" Simon finally spoke up, lifting his head.
"Then we try reversal surgery."
He looked back at your still thrashing form. The restraints has begun to rub welts into your wrists and ankles.
It had been months since he'd last seen you. Not even your dog tags to keep ahold of. He would check your status sometimes, and it would still hit him evey time, 'KIA' on the screen. The ribbon sent home to nobody who would miss you anyway.
That was why you'd joined the military. Family. Belonging, having a team.
And you did. Simon still remembered seeing you briefly on the field, just for a moment. You looked normal. Fine. You were focused, doing your job. It should've just been a standard in and out.
That was before the alarms started wailing.
You didn't get on the helicopter. You didn't radio. They sent out a search, the place was deserted by then anyway anyway. Simon called until his voice was hoarse. He forced search after search until finally Price had to tell him to call it.
Now, on another mission, it was all going to shit again. Alarms were wailing, red strobe lights fucked with the dimensions of the building.
For just a moment, he thought he saw you on the otherside, slashing through your own people. He blinked, expecting it to just be another one of his 'visions.' He saw you everywhere. You were still there, attempting to take down some poor bastard of a rookie who shouldn't have been on this mission anyway.
Blood pooled from his throat as he dropped to the ground. Simon couldn't move.
Your head snapped up. It was you. He'd know those eyes anywhere. But there was no recognition in them, nothing really in them at all. Your face was set in a way he'd never seen you look before.
You lunged forward knife set for his ribs. More on reflex than anything, he batted your forearm away grabbing your wrist.
"The fuck are you doing?" His hands were tight on your wrists, eyes searching your empty ones.
You didn't answer just brought your legs up and kicked his vest hard, enough for him to stumble back, dropping you. Pressing your advantage you clipping his arm woth your knife.
He hissed, managing to retaliate with a swift jab to your chest. He could out fight you, always had, and probably always would.
Clearly, you didn't remember that. It doesn't seem like you remember much of anything really.
You kept lunging like an animal, baring your teeth in a snarl, knife slicing through air.
"Come on--you *know* me!" He huffed, holding you against his chest in a full nelson. "I'm not hurting you---" That was cut off when the baxk of your head found his face. He swore, feeling his teeth cut into his lip. Then you were gone from his grip and when he went to grab for you, you were already sprinting down the hall.
Every muscle in his body was poised to chase after you, but his radio crackled. "All units set for extrac."
Simon hesitated before falling in with the rest of the team in another hallway.
***
"She didn't recognize you? At all?" Price huffed behind a cigar.
"I'm telling you Price, they did something to her. You know she'd never---"
"You've said it yourself before. The ones you know can hurt you the most."
His hands tightened on the arm chair. "You didn't see her. It wasn't her. Her eyes, they were *empty.* She didn't know me, and she most certainly didn't know the logo on our uniforms as anything but 'kill on sight.'"
Price sighed. "I'm sorry Simon. There's nothing I can do unless we capture her, which isn't a priority. You know as well as I do people are lost all the time."
Simon clenched his jaw. He could find you. Next mission. He would do his job, but Simon was not a good soldier if he couldn't multitask. He would find you. He would bring you back. He would fix you.
