The bandages come off five weeks after Ghost is released from the hospital, but the memories come back much quicker. Nightmares of a cruel laugh and familiar hands, knives and bottles and belts raining down on him before he eventually wakes up.
Ghost can't take it, can't handle the way his body doesn't feel like his own anymore, too many scars that he can't remember getting, covering him in so many places. Cuts on his arms, the still healing hole in his cheek, burns littered across his stomach. Every time he sees himself in the mirror, Ghost flinches away with a grimace.
The only thing keeping him sane are the two men currently wrapped around him, cigar smoke and jet fuel burning in his nose. Nikolai and Price have been taking care of him, but only they can answer the questions Ghost has.
"Can... can you tell me about them?"
Neither man has to ask what Ghost is talking about, giving each other a quick glance before slowly descending upon him. They kiss and rub each line, each raised keloid and burn, over Simon's stomach and arms and then tuning him onto his back. When the two men reach the bottom of Simon's back, kissing over two nearly identical scars, they share a fond smile.
"I remember these, don't you Nik? The lad was still a sergeant back then, and he squirmed so much we had to tie him down."
Price says it with a laugh, kissing over the 'J' carved delicately into Simon's lower left back, thumb brushing over the 'N' that matches it on the right, not noticing how the air shifts. But Nikolai does, he can feel the way Simon tenses up, and hears the hitch of Simon's breath that always comes right before the tears.
"... what?"
They haven't heard Simon like this, not even when the man showed up on Price's stoop looking like a corpse. His voice shakes with unshed tears, turning his head to look at the two of them over his shoulder. Despite the bruised ribs still healing and his left arm still in a cast, Simon moves quicker than his superiors.
The door slams shut as Simon runs.