how long will i bleed? (digging my own grave)
simon 'ghost' riley x gary 'roach' sanderson.
warnings: minor injuries, missions gone wrong, angst, some comfort, emotional constipation (guess who), captain mactavish is an ally, roach is called bug because i love that shit. mutual pining, yearning. og backstory.
THEYRE STUCK IN MY HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SEDATE ME! anyway. at least i dont overreact.anyway, this is short, at least to me; but i kind of wanted to throw up every feeling i have about them since replaying the og trilogy. i hope u like it!! enjoy, remember about likes and comments if u do, and have a good uhhh day/night. ok bye bye
Ghost wakes up to screaming and chaos.
Nothing unusual, but he is a bit confused; head swimming and thoughts muddled, barely comprehending where he is or what's happening. It's that part that prompts panic to set in, hypervigilance slow to activate, and his eyes snap open.
He's in pain, ears ringing, but at least his brain is putting together his memories. Looking around the carnage, he scans his surroundings and notes his Captain crouching next to him and barking out orders, trying to preserve some order and make his men focus. His eyes cut down to his, and there's relieve in them, but it's quickly replaced by the hardening of his face and a barely there jerk of his head in the opposite direction. He follows with his gaze, noting that Worm and Chemo are already firing away and providing cover. Once he lands on the body lying in the snow, he knows why.
His body screams at him as he moves, trying to get up through the pain and blood rushing to his ears. He sees Roach's helmet slightly crooked, caked in blood, and he fights through it all to force his muscles into cooperation. His gun is gone, but before he can try to locate another one, MacTavish throws him a rifle. Nodding at him and breathing deeply through his nose to eradicate the fear starting to take over his thoughts, he lets adrenaline take over the pain receptors and goes behind a wall to attempt to get closer.
The explosion rattled them all. The mission was to dismantle a rouge Russian paramilitary group, housing themselves in an abandoned facility deep in the wilderness; they had good intel, but it wasn't enough, as these bastards seem to be more paranoid than even him. The second, they started to take them all out, with Roach following their Captain and Ghost acting as their faithful watchdog. They were doing alright, holding their own and mowing through those idiots, but they got the upper hand and suddenly everything exploded. He must've passed out from the blast, thrown to the side and colliding with a building, but MacTavish and Roach were much closer to the source than he was. His captain seems good to move, even with the blood seeping from his vest and the plethora of cuts all over his face; he yells something out to Chemo and Ozone, making them focus fire on the snipers above, and he moves.
Eyes locked in on his sergeant, he heaves and pants, feeling the effects of the blast. Firing rounds at the twats that think they're better than they actually are, he finally gets close enough to grab Roach and pull him towards cover. His squad following closely behind and forcing the enemy to pull back slightly, he goes to check on the body in front of him. His mask is slightly torn, blood seeping through a cut on his head, and he's knocked out cold. Not dead, tho; as he frantically pulls his gloves off and ignores the shake in his hand, checking the pulse and breathing out in relief when he finds the heartbeat strong and steady. There's some shrapnel in Roach's side, but it's small, and he doesn't touch it, knowing at this point it's keeping the blood in him.
"Roach is steady, sir." He calls out to MacTavish, and he nods, harsh and face like stone, but he sees the flicker of emotion in his eyes.
"Keep pushin'. We need to run them out, plant the explosives and get the hell out. Evac is waiting on us. Let's move!" Their Captain yells out, and they all fall in line to obey.
Ghost shakes Roach a little, trying to bring him back, feeling the slight twitch that goes through his face. He's still not opening his eyes, so Ghost grabs him by the waist and throws him over his shoulder, feeling his body ache like hell, but continuing on. He pulls his straps off, and ties them around Roach, before grabbing his rifle and getting to work. MacTavish watches them with thoughtful eyes, and he knows what he's seeing. He's smart, it's a miracle he hasn't figured it out yet. The way they're almost always together, Ghost hovering over his sergeant every time he's near, sharing cigs and long looks. He knows there's something there, but Riley is a fucking coward. He's lost so much already, fear tightening his lungs almost painfully whenever he sees Roach slightly hurt, pulling away and then coming back like a fool, because he can't stay away. This dumb, mute kid who gets him like no one else, pulling his strings probably without knowing. Not realizing, his lieutenant is willing to do anything he asks; protect him with his own body and shield him from any harm. Ghost looks at him sometimes and feels himself burn from inside out, the slight smile appearing on Gary's face whenever he hears a particularly shitty joke from him, his inquisitive eyes looking at him, through him, seeing him for what he is and not even flinching. This monster standing before him, a legend and myth haunting their team, and the man decides that's who he wants. Told Ghost as much, but didn't expect anything in return. Almost like he knew it wouldn't take long for Simon to break.
"You know I care, Simon." He signed, and huffed a little, watching him with a look he couldn't place, couldn't read.
He froze, eyes staring straight ahead and mind screaming at him to abort, abort, he's going to die the second you let him in, can't lose him; but Gary just grabbed the hand tightly squeezing a cigarette and took it away from him, taking a drag and forcing Riley to look at him.
"You don't have to do anything about it. I get it. Just wanted you to know." He smiled then, and crunched the cig under his boot, before asking if he wanted to spar. Ghost breathed out a sigh of relief, but it kept taunting him.
The image of Gary before him, under him, begging sweetly and making his blood boil. Their shared talks, silences and mutual understanding beyond anyone else. He physically restrained himself from touching the other man, feeling a shudder rack through his body whenever their arms brushed on the helo, the effortless way Roach would put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, or give him a fist bump; all friendly, of course, but it drove Ghost insane. Nobody else saw it, any of it, thanks to the mask always shielding him from prying eyes, but Gary knew. Could read him without even looking at him, and it scared the living shit out of him.
Now tho, now it doesn't matter, does it? Every single emotion Ghost buried as deep as he possibly could, locked them away in a coffin deep inside his mind; the same coffin Simon Riley died in. Roach is still unconscious, they're deep in the compound now, and Chemo is planting the explosives as they go. He doesn't give a shit if Roach slows him down, feeling the weight of him — alive, breathing, gives him more strength than a stim pack. He's aggressive, shooting kneecaps and arteries first, making them bleed, hurt, before finally planting headshots. MacTavish says nothing, but it's a silence that's heavy, charged with something about to ignite, and he's not above saying all he wants right now is to hide away in some hole and never get out. He knows that's not an option, not now, not until he's truly dead. They get to the last part of the building and with the charges set, their Captain finally gives the order, "Alright, move, move! We're gettin' the hell out of here!"
They all speed up, Ghost swimming in his own sweat, the mask clinging to his face, almost suffocating now that he realizes it's a barrier that, despite his belief, isn't impenetrable. It's just a mask, and he thought putting it on would protect him, hide away everything scarring, but he's been in denial. MacTavish saw through it, Roach did too. The first time his Captain learned of his past, he just sighed, grabbed Ghost and squeezed, not letting go until the shaking subsided. Now, every time shit gets worse, his mind not letting him rest, he goes to his office, sits in the corner and does his paperwork, MacTavish sharing a glass of scotch and watching him with care deep inside he despises. Paradox, is what it is; the hatred burning inside him at any sign of comfort, and the deep longing choking him at the mere thought, wishing for someone to take it all away every once in a while. He's grateful, but as they move out of the building, slowly collapsing now, bodies strewn everywhere and the sound of the helicopter buzzing above them, he feels defeated as well. All those walls, and it took a fucking bug and a borderline alcoholic to break them all.
Roach gets patched up by a medic on the ride back to base; Ghost leaning heavily against a wall and closing his eyes to stop them from burning. He hears noise, conversation, but isn't listening to any of it. Tunes it all out, his hands still shaking and breath coming out uneven. The seat next to him dips, their Captain taking the spot and grunting.
"Everyone to medical once we're back, ya hear?" He says, and it's followed by a bunch of groans and agreements, the helo finally lapsing into silence.
MacTavish pokes him, and he opens his eyes, narrowed, glancing at him and away after a second. He doesn't want to hear it, and he's having an attitude, but he doesn't give a shit right now. He wants to have a fucking drink, sleep and not listen to his Captain prattle on about their feelings. Although he's not sure if he's capable of that either; gruff and unapologetic that he is, but he can tell there's something hovering between them, missile dropping.
What he says is probably worse, because it pulls at Ghost cold, broken heart in a way that cannot be stopped, "You got him, eh?"
Riley freezes, feeling his head pound and asking himself how he ended up here. It's responsibility, what MacTavish is saying; because if this thing is even real, it's something that holds too much weight to just disregard. He's asking if he can take it, if he has what it takes left in him to accept the harsh truth and live with it. He cares, and it's a fucking responsibility for both of them to share, carry until the day they die. Not only that, but he wants, so badly, needs this, but won't let himself have it. Their Captain isn't going to tattle, isn't going to throw them to the curb if they start shagging left and right, he's asking if they can take everything it brings. 141 is already unconventional, made only for the purpose of acting without remorse, red tape. Made for doing worse to those who are deemed deserving. Nobody looks at them too closely, cause they might not be able to take it. Ghost swallows, feeling his throat tight with emotion, and he glances at him from the corner of his eye. John looks calm, collected, and there's a twitch to his lips like he already knows the answer to his question. Riley looks at Roach, patched up and asleep, face relaxed and just pretty, and thinks of what he could have if he just pulled himself together for once. They don't even have the guarantee that they'll live till tomorrow, but he knows Gary doesn't care. He takes only what he gets, never asking for more but leaving room for it, just in case. If he died the next day, he'd be happy he got anything at all, and the thought angers Simon for some reason. He doesn't want Roach to only get scraps of him; settling for nothing when he could have it all. And he already showed he's not afraid, knows Ghost's demons as his own, welcomes them and fights with him. He sighs, his head thumping against the wall of the helo, and he finally gives his answer. Judging by the approving nod of his Captain, he lost the second he started thinking.
"Yeah. Yeah I got him, sir."
Roach wakes up and imminently regrets opening his eyes. The light in the infirmary isn't harsh and blinding; purposely dimmed for patients, but it still burns. He tries again after a few minutes of breathing and taking stock of his body, and it's a bit better. Retinas adjusting, he blinks rapidly, before finally looking down at himself. He has bandages wrapped around his waist, stitches pulling as he moves a bit. There's gauze taped to his head, and his fingers feel stiff, but he's had much worse.
His brain starts working only after a few minutes, and he feels panic and guilt settle in. He wonders if the team got out okay, if the mission was a success, if Ghost made it out. He got taken by surprise, not noticing the missiles dropping on them until it was too late. He has flashes of someone checking him over, distant screaming and the motion of being jostled around, but besides that there's nothing concrete. He looks around the room and feels a twinge of worry at the emptiness and lack of any living people. He tries to move, get up a bit, and ignores the pain it give him. He needs to move, to do something, go check on the squad and ask his Captain for a report, but he hisses and freezes as the doors open and the aforementioned man walks in. Looks his sergeant over and sighs in exasperation, before moving closer to him, dragging a chair behind. Roach lays back down, even tho he doesn't want to, MacTavish's eyes sending him a warning he'd rather not disobey.
He's bandaged up himself, but seems in a much better shape than Gary is, so the panic subsides a bit. He wills his hands to move so he can sign, but the ache permeating from his palms makes it difficult; his face twists in frustration and his Captain lays a hand on his to stop it from twitching and shaking.
"The team is fine. Minor injuries. Mission success. You're alright, Roach." He says, and the sergeant breathes out, suddenly exhausted beyond belief.
There's a smirk growing on John's face, and Roach sends him a questioning gaze.
"Ghost wouldn't leave you alone. Bastard carried you through the whole compound. Sent him to bed an hour ago, he refused to leave your side." Warmth spreads through Gary's face, and he turns his eyes away to revaluate his life choices.
He doesn't sound mad, just smug, and Roach feels like he missed a lot. Still, there's giddiness growing, a twitch of lips and hope, relief and so many feelings bubbling up to the surface his head almost spins, overwhelmed. MacTavish pats his head, tells him to rest and walks out, Gary feeling the pull of sleep and submitting to it with a smile.
By the time he's discharged a day later, he hasn't seen Ghost. The man hasn't showed up in his room, probably knowing Roach was awake now. He's running away, hiding; submitting to overthinking and making himself suffer, but he already showed his cards. It's too late, and if Gary has to hunt him down for a conversation, he will.
He checks the usual spots — the gym, the shooting range, his room. He has one last place to look, one he knows Ghost usually occupies when the noise in his head gets louder, escaping to the dead quiet on a restricted rooftop at the edge of the base. It's usually empty, no one using that part of the compound anymore, and he knows his lieutenant. It's the only place he could go away undisturbed, a reprieve from duty and pain. He knows he's right when after climbing up the ladder he spots the familiar mask. He's smoking, a pack thrown haphazardly next to him, hunched over and unmoving. Roach moves closer, making sure his steps are heard, even when it's not really necessary, more a sign of trust, providing comfort in the small notions.
He sits down next to him, swinging his legs over the edge, and grabs a cig from the box, Ghost extending his hand holding a lighter without a word. He takes it, feeling the flame dance under his fingertips, and takes a deep drag, slightly leaning back. His wound still hurts, discomfort radiating, but much less concerning now that it's healing. Gary lets the pain ground him, uses it to clear his head and looks at Simon. His mask is pulled up, nicotine dangling from his chapped lips and Roach has the vague thought that he wants to bite him. Not now. He turns his body more towards him, finally catching Riley's attention.
"Gonna hurt yourself more if you keep doing tha', bug." Ghost sounds like he swallowed gravel; the deep rooted exhaustion making itself note in the heaviness of his accent, forcing Gary to gulp and breathe through his nose.
"Heard you're my hero." Roach signs, and he sees the tension pulling at Simon's shoulders. He ignores the former words, knowing it's a misdirection and a shitty attempt at getting Gary to stop and preferably leave this alone, but it's not going to work.
Ghost takes a drag, letting the smoke curl around them and doesn't answer for a minute. He lets him keep the silence, knowing a storm is most likely brewing in that skull head. Takes the moment to watch him — sees the overgrown stubble on his chin, the tight grit of his teeth. Eyes rake down the line of his slender throat, Adam's apple bobbing at the attention with a heavy swallow.
"You gotta be sure, bug." He says at last, words cutting through, rough and desperate.
Roach smiles and scoots closer, feeling the heat emanating from Ghost and pulling him in. The other turns his head fully, eyes burning and the cigarettes forgotten. He doesn't want to sign, doesn't feel like his words will have any effect on this man, so instead he just grabs his face and pulls him closer. Feels the shaky breath on his lips, tongue darting out to wet them. He strokes his thumbs over Ghost's cheekbones, relishing in the slight prickle of his five o'clock shadow, and pecks him. Slowly, gently, letting their lips stay pressed together and linger, feeling Simon's hands dart out to hold onto him; grabbing his waist and squeezing, more longing wrapped in that small gesture than words could ever express. He pulls away a twinge, but doesn't get far, as Ghost smashes into him once more, lips desperately moving against each other, Gary now almost pulled to sit on his lap, letting himself be wrapped up in strong arms.
They break off after a few minutes, a blush spreading down to Ghost's neck, lips twinged pink and swollen. Gary heaves a breath, and pets Simon's face, before falling forward and nuzzling into his neck. He feels him secure, tucked and finally letting go. They both breathe each other in, shuddering every once in a while as the wind moves around them, their little orbit far away from every aspect of their shitty lives; a separate bubble, meant just for them.
They sleep together that night. And every night after that one, until flames consume both of their souls, still jointly, never separating for even a moment.