On one of the rare occasions that Ghost gets some time to himself, he prefers to spend it alone, appreciating what little silence he can get away from missions and base. Every leave, the very few that he does take, without fail, he spends his days in a little cabin in a forest clearing, bordered by trees. Don’t ask where, he won’t tell you.
It makes for a nice place to relax and recuperate - he wouldn’t have it any other way. He doesn’t need company. Or so he tells himself.
The only issue with this little safe haven of his is that it's in bear territory. A couple kilometers away from his cabin, there are caves inhabited by bears. It doesn’t help that the surrounding woods prevent him from anticipating any attacks. When he first settled into the cabin, he tried to be tolerant. It was their home first, after all. But after one of the bears managed to ransack his cabin, he decided to take a more… traditional approach.
Bear traps - as much as he doesn’t like to use them - seem to be the one and only thing that has stopped them. Sure, it’s not the nicest, but Ghost doesn’t have a lot of empathy for the buggers after they tore up his mattress. He slept on the ground for a week before finally deciding to get a new one.
As far as Ghost is aware, there isn’t anything else out in the forest that is brave enough to get close to his cabin. Bears are just about the only thing he has to worry about. That’s why he keeps his shotgun loaded by the door.
So, it’s quite a surprise when he hears a sound other than that of a growling bear following the snap! Of one of his traps. It’s late evening, with the sun quickly setting. It’s dark enough that he has to grab a flashlight, and grabs his very much illegal shotgun from the door. He walks over to the edge of his property line, following the sound of quiet whining.
“What the hell?” He whispers, shining his flashlight at you.
Definitely not a bear.
A wolf hybrid, by the looks of it.
Your pupils are pinpoints, with your ears folded back against your head. You’re thin, much too thin for a wolf. You’re growling at him, despite the bear trap cutting into your calf. You’re stuck halfway between a human and a wolf, panic making you shift uncontrollably.
You try to pull away from him, but that only serves to tear your flesh. Crying out in pain, you whimper and whine, feeling paralyzed.
Ghost stares for another moment, as if gathering his thoughts.
“I’m gonna help you. But I need you to be calm, okay?” He says, crouching down to get a better look at you. He sets the rifle down, but keeps it close to him. “You need to stay still.” He murmurs.
He squints at your leg, jaw tightening a fraction. “You’re half-turned…” He says, almost in awe. “Must be painful as hell.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“Look, I know humans are probably at the top of your shit list - but unless you want to lose that foot, we need to get the trap off before your body decides what form it is committing to.”
He edges closer, one hand reaching to his belt where a multi-tool hangs. “We’re gonna do this nice and slow.” He murmurs, like talking down a spooked animal - which, frankly, is not far off. “And then we’ll sort you out after.”
Your body is coiled tight, practically dripping with sweat, and a little bit of tears. Everything in you is screaming.
Run. Get away. Too close.
But logically, you know that you need his help. You can't get out of the trap yourself, seeing as you’ve already tried before he found you. You practically tore your nails off trying to get them underneath the teeth of the trap. You exhale shakily.
“Easy.” He murmurs, slowly approaching. “I know that look. You’re scared. Hurting. But i’m not your enemy tonight.” He stops once he’s within arms reach of your leg, careful to stay away from your head.
Your teeth, more like.
He keeps his big frame hunched to seem less threatening - and let’s be honest. It doesn’t really work.
He flicks the multi-tool open with a quiet click, and you flinch on instinct.
“The name is Ghost.” he offers, absurdly casual for a man talk to a half-transformed hybrid caught in his bear trap. “Not because I haunt people. ‘S just easier than giving my real name to people who might bite it off.”
Silence passes, with him just staring at you.
“You got a name? Or do I just call you ‘bloody nuisance’ until we fix this?” His mouth twitches - almost a smile, but not quite brave enough to show itself without his balaclava to protect him.
You stare, waiting, watching for any sign of ill intent. You open your mouth, struggling to form the word for a second before it comes out. “Y/N” You finally muster, watching as he carefully leans down to the trap.
He repeats it, voice rough but quiet. Like he’s testing the name for weight. “Nice to meet you. Under different circumstances, I’d offer tea. But since we’ve got a leg in a death trap…” He grunts, already working open the rusted jaws of the trap with his tool. “...I’ll hold off.”
“Hang tight.” He grunts, face twisting with the effort that it’s taking to open the trap. He pauses - glancing at your face - and his tone shifts. Into something softer. Not ‘Ghost’. But Simon.
The trap is half-open, and he realizes that he wont be able to get it off safely with you stuck in-between forms like this. “Don’t fight it.” He says, trying to be gentle. “Choose one. Staying in-between will tear you apart when I get this fully open.”
He doesn’t stop working at the metal, fingers steady and practiced despite the tension in his shoulders.
“You hear me?” He asks. “Breathe through it… and choose.”
You nod after a moment, taking a deep breath. You shift fully into wolf form, shaking despite yourself.
He watches as your more humanoid features elongate into a snout, longer legs and arms. Your hands shrink into paws, and he can see how truly thin you are.
“That’s it.” He whispers, voice steady - almost soothing now, like he’s coaxing a stray cat out of the dark. His muscles are tense just in case you try to pull a fast one on him, but when you finally settle into something wilder, broader on three good paws and one trapped mess, he gives a slow nod.
“Good. Smarter than any bear.”
He goes back to work with the multi-tool, and the hinges of the trap squeal before finally opening as wide as they can. “There.” He huffs, and it takes a second for you to react. When you do, you jerk away from him, leg free but bleeding. You stumble into a low crouch, tail tucked between your legs even as you try to play the brave wolf.
He doesn’t move to you immediately. Instead, he pulls a clean rag from one of the pockets on his belt and tosses it to you. “Won’t stop you from getting an infection.” He mutters wryly. “Unless you fancy losing that leg and letting it rot, you’re gonna want me to clean it.”
He pauses.
“I know I’m not your favourite creature right now… but I've stitched up worse on men three times your size.” His voice drops slightly, into something rougher around the edges. But sincerity behind it, too. “Trust me?”
No. I don’t.
You look between your leg, the trap and him. Before scurrying back into the underbrush, limping on your mangled leg.
He watches you dart away, eyes following your shadow as you disappear into the dimming forest.
He rubs his head, sighing. “Shit.” He jobs back to his cabin, grabbing a first aid kit. He can’t really blame you - he himself is suspicious of most things. But there’s still that part of him that can’t turn away from an injured animal. Maybe it was because he took care of a stray dog for a number of years until it passed away. Maybe it is because he himself is somewhat an injured stray.
He follows your tracks. And he has a damn good eye.
You didn’t go far. He didn’t expect you to. You stopped a couple hundred metres into the forest, licking your leg. He finds you within minutes, just in time to catch sight of your tongue flashing over bloodied fur.
He’s silent as he approaches, footsteps quiet and measured. He stands at the edge of the small clearing, watching you for a minute. Then he lets his shoulders drop - making his body a little less tense and frame more open as he takes slow steps forward.
No shotgun. No multi-tool. Just a big man in the woods, holding a first aid kit.
As soon as you spot him, you try to get into a defensive stance, growling with your ears pinned back. But you’re wobbly with your hind leg raised to not put pressure on it. It’s almost pathetic.
“Right, right - easy.” He rumbles, voice low and almost warm. “Didn’t think you’d get far anyway. Stubborn little thing, ain’t ya?” He crouches down, staring into your eyes instead of looking at your leg.
“Look at you…” He mutters, almost in awe. Admiring, despite himself. “Half-starved hybrid with more fight than sense.” He pauses, watching you wobble. “You’re not gonna pass out from blood loss just to spite me, are you?”
He pulls the clean rag from his pocket again, wiping it off from any dirt that got on it when he offered it to you earlier. He tosses it and the first aid kit between you two with a soft thunk.
“Take it or don’t.” he says flatly as he slowly stands back up. “But if I come back tomorrow and find your mangy carcass half-eaten by foxes? That’s on you. Not me.” He turns - boots crunching faintly on leaves - but he doesn’t go far before pausing under the trees.
“Y/N.” He glances over his shoulder once more into the dark where you hide in shadow, fur and pride alike.
Okay i had no idea what to do for the name part so i just used Y/N because thats what I usually see people doing!!!!
Im on holiday break right now so i'm honestly just writing bc im bored... im really glad so many of you liked the fic I wrote last night 🥹
I already have a part 2 in mind for this so pleaseeee let me know if y'all want more of this one!!!
also idk if i'm gonna write more for "Run and hide...or don't" bc thats lowkey where my dream ended... and i'm worried that if i try to continue it, it wont be as good TvT
