Chapter Text
[10/11/2017]
[REDACTED], Mexico. Lieutenant Simon Riley
He Barely comprehends his surroundings. All he knows right now is pain, cold and fear. He's so scared and feels so incredibly small. He curls up into a tight ball; wincing and whimpering in pain as his lower body aches and stings. The lingering effects of Roba's men forcing themselves upon him. His lip quivers at the blurry memories. Thankfully, his mind had made him dissociate, making him relive his god awful childhood the second Roba's men stepped foot into his cell.
But now that he was alone, his brain had no reason to dissociate. Even if Simon tried his best to. He’d rather relive his father’s abuse all over again than to be here and now. Having to experience the pain and humiliation he felt. He was sure he was going to break, he curled in further into himself, whimpering and weeping softly.
As he wept, an unfamiliar fuzziness began to sweep over his brain. He was disturbed as he realized he didn’t find it alarming. He found it…pleasant, comforting, warm. He couldn’t help but embrace it, just wanting any form of comfort! Anything. As it enveloped him; his mind became pleasantly cloudy, small, but not in the way he felt before. It felt…okay, safe.
He hadn’t even realized he had stuck his thumb in his mouth, his body seemingly moving on his own as he slipped into a younger mental headspace. But he didn’t really care, the suckling motion soothed him, allowing him to temporarily forget everything. His body untensed slightly, still curled up, but no longer a tight coil. His muscles relaxing and his various stings and hurts slipping away as the fuzziness took over.
He hiccuped, his weeping finally dying down as he continued to self soothe. Despite the uncomfortable, hard floor. The fuzziness made him feel like his body was laying in clouds, he cooed softly, his eyes fluttering a few times before they closed; soft snuffles and coos lingered in the cell as the man finally slept.
“Well, Well, Well….” Manuel Roba leaned forward in his chair, watching the footage of English with keen interest. “...now this, is interesting!”
The Drug lord had installed cameras inside English’s cell, to see if the man would ever break; Jump him when he’s at his most vulnerable. But no matter what, the man just lay there and stared off into the distance. Seemingly unbothered by whatever he and his men subjected him to. That was, until tonight. Where he watched in real time, the man sob quietly after one of his men violated him before curling into a ball and sucking his thumb like a damn bebé .
That’s when it clicked for Roba. this man’s mind was already broken even before he stepped foot in this facility. The revelation made Roba grin wickedly. So, English was already a broken man? Roba would just need to help pick up the pieces and rebuild him.
And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.
[**/11/2017] 12:00pm.
[REDACTED], Mexico, Lt. Simon Riley
Simon moaned in pain, his body aching from another harsh beating, his head pounding. His eyes bleary as bright lights shone down on his face, the LED’s warmth radiating on his face. He went to rub his head but jolted when he couldn’t move his arms.
He tried not to panic, taking a deep breath as he looked down and saw he had been strapped down to a medical gurney, his chest, forearms and legs strapped down, tightly. His wrists and ankles were cuffed with thick leather cuffs - padded on the inside. Cold sweat went down his forehead as his eyes trailed down to his left forearm; where an IV needle had been inserted - strange liquid already being pumped into his system.
Oh dear god
His heartbeat increased rapidly and he began to thrash as much as he could. His legs trying to kick out uselessly to no avail.
No! No! Fuck no!
he could stand being beaten, being degraded, abused, humiliated and used. His childhood had practically trained him to withstand almost any form of physical and mental torture swung his way. But drugs…drugs had been something he had avoided. Drugs had left a permanent mark on him in ways he couldn’t bring himself to recollect.
He couldn’t let this happen, he couldn’t let whatever was about to be pumped into his blood get anywhere near him. He tried to scream and shout but found something rubber and bulb-like was gagging his mouth, leather straps around his head secured the strange gag in place. His eyes watered as the situation began to feel more and more perilous. As he began to feel a slight fuzziness, he thrashed again. Realizing the drugs were starting to take effect; He began to scream, cry and curse behind the gag, hoping that anyone would listen and make this stop-
“Shhh…” A large hand pushed him back down against the gurney. (he didn’t even realize he had loosened the straps around his chest) He grunted, his heading spinning as he began to grow more and more fuzzier in the head. He groaned, blinking slowly as his vision began to spin. He shook his head, whimpering and thrashing to fight the effects-
“...Silencio, little one. just let it happen..” A heavy voice echoed, the heavy hand cupping at his cheek, the thumb brushing against the newly formed Glasgow smile. Behind watery eyes he looked up, trying his hardest to focus on the source of the voice. His blood ran cold when his vision finally managed to stop swirling -
There, the pale painted face of El Gordo stood before him. The man’s usually stern expression is replaced by one of warmth and sympathy.
“El Gordo must apologize…he did not realize he was handling such a small little bebé ..” His captor cooed sweetly, going as far to wipe away at the tears that had managed to escape Simon’s stinging eyes. “..Such a naughty little boy you are, English! Keeping such secrets from Your papa!” The heavy man tutted, tilting the (boy’s) Man’s chin up “..Your papa and his men wouldn’t have been so rough and mean if you had just said something, little one!” El Gordo scolded, patting Simon’s bruised and cut up cheek - Making Simon flinch and moan out in pain behind his gag.
He cried out again as another wave of dizziness hit him, he thrashed weakly; whimpering as his limbs began to not respond - the drugs must have a muscle relaxing effect. At this revelation, he turned his heavy head towards his captor, he whimpered and begged behind his gag; desperately trying to get El Gordo to order his men to stop the flow.
“Shh shh shh..” El Gordo soothed sweetly, Simon’s sweaty locks out of his face. “..come now, little one; you must be so tired.” Simon whined, his head unable to hold itself up as the drugs began to take effect.
He fought to keep his eyes open, grunting and shaking his head. El Gordo simply cupped his face, keeping it still. Simon swore weakly behind his gag, his eyes fluttering. Through blurry vision, he saw El Gordo nod at someone behind him and suddenly a soft, soothing melody began to play.
Simon paused his fighting as he recognised the tune: it came from his time as an infant. Rare memories of safety, security and comfort flooded his brain. He vaguely remembers laying in a soft crib, bundled in his blanket, a mobile gently moving above his head; playing the exact same song.
"That's it, bebé...Relax.." El gordo cooed softly "...Relax and sink into that fuzzy feeling...let all your worried slip away..."
Against his will, his mind began to relax. He groaned behind the gag weakly, his eyelids fluttering as the fuzziness fully took over; before he lost consciousness El Gordo, swept his large hand over Simon’s sweat drenched hair before cupping his cheek again; Simon in a last ditch effort, groaned again, trying to beg the man to stop this.
“Shh…Silencio ahora, pequeño…Papi has you now”
Simon’s eyes fluttered shut.
[**/01/2020]
[REDACTED], USA. Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley. Sgt. Gary 'Roach' Sanderson.
Ghost groaned, his head swimming and vision blurred. He heard the faint sound of heart rate monitors and idle chat. He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright light shining right into his eyes
“Fucking ‘ell…turn the sodding lights down..” Ghost grunted in annoyance, the bright lights causing his piercing headache to feel even worse.
“Ghost!” Roach exclaimed, standing up from his chair and leaning over His friend, relief was all over his features.
“bloody hell, mate! Gave us a well good fright when you walked in all bloodied up!” The second in command of the shadow company laughed softly, patting the lieutenant on the shoulder.
“Graves said you collapsed in Shepherd’s office during debrief! ya gave him and the general a good scare, there!” Roach scolded playfully, patting the man’s chest lightly.
“…how long was I out for, this time?” Ghost groaned out, massaging his temples to soothe the hammering headache. Forcing an eye open to glance over at his friend, although Roach’s face was covered, Ghost could see apprehension in his friend’s eyes, his eyes shifting nervously as he searched for an answer.
“Gary-”
“A week and a half.” Roach muttered softly, flinching when Ghost inhaled deeply through his nose.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell..” He growled out, throwing his arm across his face. Hiding his sensitive eyes from the harsh lights; trying to get a moment to think.
What the hell was wrong with him?! This had been the..fifth? (or was it the sixth? Oh hell, he can’t remember-) mission where he had blacked out. He remembers....storming into general Shepherd’s office but what for…? Was it…his eyes flash open, a cold sweat goes down his temple.
The mission, he can’t remember the details but he knew he was on a mission. His entire squad was with him-
Oh god, his squad..their faces? Why can’t he remember their faces? What were their names?! His inner demands are met with harsh black lines and fuzzy, blurred faces. He bites his bottom lip, holding back a distressed noise. He inhales sharply again, names and faces are later - he needs to know if they’re okay! Did anyone else survive?!
“Did anyone else make it? How many have we accounted for?”
“Mate..” Gary speaks cautiously, placing a scarred hand over Simon’s chest “...C’mon, you just woke up, we can have a debrief la-”
“Negative. Tell me now, Gary.” Simon stares at his friend with glassy eyes, his eyes stinging as he resisted tears. “Fuckin’ hell, Just tell me-”
“You were the only one who made it to exfil.”
“Oh fuckin’ hell..”
Gary might as well have shot him, that’s how much his chest hurt at the news. The only survivor? (again). How many lives did he fail to bring home this time?! He was their lieutenant! It was his job to lead them and bring them back! How could he let this happen?! What the hell was he going to tell their families?
As if reading his mind, Gary gently squeezed his shoulder “It wasn’t your fault, Simon...everything was going to plan…” His friend glanced around meekly, watching the door for a second before leaning closer “Look, this is classified information. Shepherd didn’t want you worryin’ ‘bout it…but, one of your teammates was a rat; Gave away your position on purpose.”
Ghost couldn’t believe it, it sounded too convenient, too much of a coincidence. Besides, Ghost swore he hand selected everyone for this mission; he’d be able to sniff out a rat from a mile away (he fell for one once. He never intends to fall for one again.)
Simon dared a glance at his friend and ally, one of the few men he could trust. He looked at him, searching for any deceit, but couldn’t find any. Convinced, Simon sighed and nodded; giving Gary a grave, dangerous look.
“Who was the rat?” Once Simon found out who dared betray his trust, he’d rip that fucker apa-
“All names and ranks were blacked out; Mission’s become highly classified” Ghost had to eye up Roach again, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
“Since when is shit regarding my own bloody team ‘classified’” Ghost growled out, frustration bubbling up inside him.
“General Shepherd’s asked specific details be restricted while an investigation goes underway.”
Roach looked down at Ghost, as if once again reading Simon’s mind; he leant down “I’ll tell ya this, he’s already 6 feet under. Stupid prick got his brains blown out shortly after he gave away the team’s position.”
That should have given him satisfaction. Really, it usually would. Saves him the trouble of wringing out some stupid fuck’s neck (and hopefully bringing peace to those lives lost) but…it didn’t. Everything he was just told sounded so…convenient. He can’t remember much, but he remembers the faint sound of bullets rushing past, the pain as bullets grazed and knives sliced. The cries and shouts of chaos all around him; it’s all he can remember.
He eyes Roach again, cautiously. Watching again for any signs of deceit. Any nervous twitch, any sign..but nothing. Ghost sighs, half in relief and half in guilt; there’s no way. Gary would never betray him, He’d never lie. Especially when he’s one of the few he’d confided in about Vernon’s betrayal, he’d never...right?
He swallowed down his gut feeling and sighed, shoulders sagging.
“Understood. Thank you for your debrief, Roach.” The lieutenant tried to finish the conversation with some level of professionalism. But he looked at Gary with a genuine look of gratitude, his silent way of saying ‘I trust you, Thank you.’ Gary nodded in understanding, reaching over to pat his hand
“Of course, lieutenant.” He smiled softly before glancing at his watch. “You should get some more rest, Mate. Try and sleep off the sedative before the general starts breathing down your neck.” Roach patted the lieutenant on the chest playfully “I’ll try to hold him and the commander off for as long as possible, okay?”
“Yeah…Thanks Gary..” Ghost lay back down, a wave of tiredness crashing over him like a ton of bricks. His eyes stayed on his friend’s face as his eyelids fluttered shut as he succumbed to slumber he heard Roach’s voice one last time;
“Anytime, Si…it’s the least I can do..”
He woke up to a soft melody playing from….above him? The sound brought him a sense of calm in his building uncertainty. He blinked back sleep and groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head again. His palm landed on something wet as blindly grabbed at his sheets (Oh god. Not again) he sighed in frustration; opening his eyes, he expected to see piss stains on his bedsheets again but gasped at the sight that befell him.
The room could only be described as..disgusting. The sheets and walls were covered in a black thick mold. Old, dried blood and gore decorated any parts that weren’t painted in the foul mold.
A lesser man would have puked just at the sight alone. But Ghost swallowed it down, cold sweat running down his neck and back as he took in his surroundings; The furniture made him guess it was supposed to be (or used to be) a nursery of some sorts…but his stomach churned when he realized everything was made out of flesh, tendons and bone…even his bed?
He threw himself out, hitting the moldy, fleshy ground with a cry.
His bed wasn’t a bed, it was a crib made of bloodied bones; the legs were femur bones while the bars were made of arm bones, rotting flesh still attached to some pieces fused with the moldy wooden base, creating a ‘natural’ bond between bone and wood.
The sheets are made of flayed flesh; still wet with blood. Simon peered down at his hands and retched. His hands, up to the elbows were covered in blood; still fresh and dripping down his forearms; drying and flaky near the elbows. The only thing clean and pristine in this god forsaken clump of flesh was the mobile made up of dog tags, which hung from the jaws of his mother’s skull; the names on the dog tags were scratched out crudely. As he glanced at the metallic mobile; Flashes of dying faces and last screams filled his vision, making him dizzy and nauseous.
He retched. Violently. Bile mixed with a cocktail of pills painted the floor. He gasped, trying to catch his breath and make sense of his surroundings.
What the hell was going on?! Where was he?! What is this?! Why was he here?!
Before he could try to form any coherent thoughts; he was alerted to the sound of shoes crunching and squelching against the moldy floor. He turned and his heart dropped.
Standing before him was a horrific, disgusting monster. It was a 10ft amalgamation of fused skin. At least four arms and eyes but sharing a wide, twisted grin. Its gruesome body was covered by a bloodied, torn military uniform. The only thing clean about it was the medals; shiny and pristine; seemingly hand polished. It had Roba’s facial hair and lacked any hair on top, Similar to General Shepherd. Simon’s heart sank when it spoke; its voice a tangled up mixture of Roba’s and Shepherd’s accents.
“UH oh!…looks like English woke up from his nap!” It cooed, its voice condescending “And what’s this? Oh naughty english! You threw up your nap time bottle?” it clicked its tongue, crawling into the room, its large frame towering over Simon, making Simon feel way smaller than he actually was, he stepped back, sucking in an unsteady breath as it approached him “That’s okay, son…papa will fix it!” it cooed, reaching out to grab him.
“N-No!” Simon slapped the large hand away and bolted past the fleshy monster. He ran out of the fucked up nursery and into the dilapidated hallways. His heart hammering more as more gore, flesh and mold filled every crevice of the halls.
“Come back here, English!” the thing screeched behind him, causing him to run blindly into the halls. He panicked as he rounded a corner, almost slamming into it, pushing away bony hands that tried to grab at him; bony mutilated faces, fused to the walls cried out in anguish at him
“How could you forget?!” the bony, gorey corpse sobbed at him “How could you forget about us?!” Before Simon could process or respond to such questions, the sickening ‘squelch’ of heavy dress shoes hitting the rotting, moldy floorboards filled Simon’s ears.
“Come back here, son! You haven’t finished your nap!” the creature screeched, marching its way towards Simon. Without a second though, Simon resumed running; doing his best to tune out the wailing cries surrounding him.
“You forgot about us!”
“Why Lieutenant?! Why did you let us die?!”
“Take us with you!”
Simon’s eyes stung, his heart beat against his ribcage as he ran the endless corridor. His stress building as he scanned for an exit, all the doors being barricaded by mold and rotting flesh. Everytime he turned, he saw the 10ft creature, only a few meters behind him. No matter how fast he ran, it seemed to keep up despite its casual pace. Its warped mouth is a thin, serious line and all four of its eyes were glued onto him, unblinking. Simon felt himself shrink as he felt the burning fury and anger behind that deadpan stare. It fueled his eagerness to escape, to run and be free from this miserable place.
He managed to get some distance from the thing, causing it to get more irritated.
“Come back here English! Or papa will have to punish you!” Its voice and tone made Simon falter, just slightly. No! No! He couldn’t stop running, he had to get free, he had to get out! There had to be a way out!
“Son, You know running won’t get you far! It’ll only make things worse!”
Simon forced himself to tune out the thing’s insistent screeching and wheezing. Focusing instead on running more and more. Rushing past bony hands and anguished cries of fallen men; stuck to the moldy floors and walls of this forsaken endless corridor.
The more he ran, the more hopeless he felt. His lungs began to burn, his knees and calves burning from overuse. Tears of frustration began to burn his eyes, threatening to spill over at any second.
That’s when he smelt it;
Earthy, woody smells. Mixed with a hint of Tobacco and spices; A cigar! it smelt…familiar.
Suddenly, light shone through the gritty mold and bloody gore: an exit. His heart hammered, he ran closer and closer, his fingers brushing against the door’s glass-
“Gotcha!” The thing grabbed Simon from under his arms and picked him up as if he weighed nothing.
“Such a niño travieso.” The thing scolded playfully, shaking its head at him.
“Maybe our little one just needs another bottle..”
Simon cried out in panic, clawing at the scabby, dirty hands clutching at him. It did nothing, only making the thing hold Simon a little tighter, cradling him against it’s chest.
“N-No! No!” Simon cried out, kicking and screaming fruitlessly. His legs thudded against the thing’s solid chest. “No! Please! Let me go! Please! Please!” He cried, batting his arms at the things chest “please! I-I’ll be good! Please!”
Why was he begging? He never once begged in his life. It didn’t matter. The thing just shushed him, lightly patting his bottom as it made its back to the nursery, away from the comforting light and smells.
“Now now, son..” it started, sounding more like Shepherd as it sat down in the rocking chair made of ribs and legs. Adjusting Simon to sit and lean back against the crook of it’s bony arm. “..this is for your own good, be a good niño and open wide…”
A baby bottle, filled with milk and various pills was brought to lips. He stubbornly kept it shut, thrashing against his captor’s hold. One of the thing’s four arms had grabbed his ankles in one large hand. The remaining free hand gripping his wrists in a bruising squeeze. He moved his head away, grunting as he tried to break free.
It persisted, freeing his ankles to grab his chin, hard. With little effort, it made Simon look back over, squishing his cheeks, making them bruise and forcing Simon to purse his lips, just enough of a gap to force the nipple of the bottle in.
Simon screamed past the bottle, trying to buck and thrash wildly. The shepherd-Roba thing squeezed the bottle, coaxing a mouthful of the spiked milk into his mouth. Unable to spit it out, Simon was forced to swallow. Tearing up as he felt the various pills go down his throat. He groaned, his head beginning to spin and get…fuzzy
“That’s it, such a good boy.” It chuckled, beginning to rock him as he was forced to drink the bottle. “Let your bottle work its magic, niño…” it cooed sweetly, brushing away his tears with its blood stained thumb.
“Simon..?”
He whimpered, shaking his head. Trying to fight off the fuzziness. His body got heavier and heavier as the drugs began to take effect. He moaned out miserably, trying to push the bottle away with his now freed but heavy limbs. It laughed at him, tilting the bottle and squeezing more milk down his throat, making him gag and hack.
“Simon..! C’mon lad!”
“Shhh...Just Let it happen, son.” It cooed down at him, condescendingly. A wave of dizziness made everything blurry and spin. His ears ringing as the shouts of the corpses stuck to the walls and floors got even louder.
“Simon! Wake up, lad!”
“Don’t mind them, Niño..just relax..” it cooed, squeezing the bottle again and flooding Simon’s mouth and throat. He swore he felt the milk in his lungs.
Simon finally managed to push the bottle away, tilting his head away from the bottle as he vomited all over papa’s uniform. He cried out, his eyes watering, looking back at papa with wide, glassy eyes. “Papa!” He sobbed “papa! M’ sorry! No more! P’ease-“
“Simon! It’s okay! Open your eyes-“
“Shhhh” it soothed, popping the bottle back in, more gently this time. Simon through glassy eyes peered up at papa, whimpering and sobbing hysterically as the fuzziness in his brain began taking over, the drugs quickly taking effect. He whined out past the bottle, shaking his head one last time before he began to slip into unconsciousness
“Silencio ahora, pequeño…”
“Simon!”
Ghost’s eyes shot open as shot up into an upright position. He took a harsh gasp of air, his body being hit with a sudden flood of panic and nausea. Before he could comprehend his surrounds; he leaned over the bed and began to heave.
“Simon!” Someone close by gasped out, Ghost flinched when the chair scraped against the floor. “Bloody hell! Nurse! Get in here now!” The voice boomed as Simon heaved. A gentle hand rested on his back and a basin was placed in front “easy lad, I’ve gotcha..that’s it, let it out.” Simon heaved and vomited for a few more seconds before he just panted, spitting the remaining bile out of his mouth. Before he could sit up, a cup of water was placed on his lips.
“Atta boy, Simon. Let's rinse, yeah?” Simon obeyed, taking a mouthful of cold water, swirling it around and spitting it out into the basin.
“That’s a good lad..easy, up ya get..” steady hands helped him sit up in the hospital bed, the sheets now damp with sweat.
Simon panted, clearing his throat and groaning “fuckin ‘ell..” Simon slumped against the medical cot’s headrest.
“Could say the exact same thing, gave me a bloody fright!”
Simon opened his eyes and a overwhelming sense of relief flooded his senses when his eyes landed on none other than Captain John Price.
“Price..” Simon croaked out “good to see you again, sir..”
His tired eyes landed on the captain, who in return gave him a friendly, warm smile.
“Good to see you again, Simon…despite the shit circumstances.” Price chuckles “Shepherd tells me you had a rough exfil.”
“Yeah…you could say that.”
Ghost agrees halfheartedly, unsure himself. Only having Gary’s words to go by. Price gives him a sympathetic look, reaching over to squeeze his hand.
“Nothing about your ability, lad. I reckon it’s shit leadership and rubbish intel" Price's eyes crinkle cheekily and Simon can't help but laugh weakly at the jab at General Shepherd "...so I had a proposal to make..”
“Go on..” Simon lifted his head, curious and eager. Anything to get out of this shithole and out of Shepherd's tight clutches.
“Forming a new team. Could use a capable, trustworthy lieutenant to keep some runts in line.”
Simon snorted but nodded
“Anything to get out of this yankee shithole.”
Price bellowed out a laugh, one that made Simon’s heart warm and filled him with comfort. Price chuckled and patted his forearm
“Knew you’d be on board. Once you're cleared by the nurse, we’ll pack your stuff and be out of here.”
“Thank fucking Christ.”
[**/01/2020]
[REDACTED], USA. Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley. Capt. John Price. Gen Herschel Shepherd. Cmdr Phillip Graves.
“It’s a shame to see you go, son. You’re a fine soldier, Lieutenant.” General Shepherd gave Ghost a firm handshake. His lip in a tight line and his body language oddly stiff.
“Likewise, sir. Was an honor serving you.” Ghost forced out, keeping up pleasantries despite wanting nothing more to be out of the man’s sight - the nightmare he had a few days ago left the lieutenant feeling uneasy in the general’s presence.
Even now, he wanted nothing but to force his hand out of the general’s tight grasp. The firm grip felt more like a shackle than a friendly gesture.
“Just remember, son…” Shepherd leaned close “…you’re always welcome back.”
Ghost swallowed a forming lump in his throat, lost in the general’s hard gaze. Unable to say anything, something about the way the general said that had a sinister undertone.
It seemed Shepherd was about to say something else before being cut off with a clearing of the throat.
“General, with all due respect. Me and the lieutenant need to get going.” Price spoke from behind Simon. “We’ve got a lot of air time and I’d rather be at a reasonable time…I’m sure you understand.”
Simon could feel the tension between the two - he felt like he was in the middle of a dangerous game of tug of war. Especially with how bruising Shepherd’s grip was getting.
“You act like it’ll be the last ever time we see him, Sir!” Graves sauntered up, a small rucksack in hand and his signature grin. “We’ll still be on missions together! Right brother?”
Something about Graves’s made Ghost settle, his uneasiness settling to a more reasonable gut feeling. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Affirmative, sir. Always here to help you sorry lot out.”
Graves tilted his head back and laughed “Help’s always appreciated, brother!” Graves stepped in front of Shepherd - making the general let go of his hand.
“Gary and I did a final sweep of your quarters…you...forgot a few things.” Graves spoke quietly as he handed the rucksack over, albeit hesitantly. Ghost noted he seemed…sad.
It was only natural, the lieutenant figured. He had been an ‘honorable shadow’ for a few years whilst under Shepherd’s care. Graves had always been close and attached to all his shadows - even if the commander heavily denied such an accusation.
“Thanks, Graves.” Ghost spoke with as much sincerity as he could muster. He took the rucksack delicately from the commander - unsure of its contents.
“Anytime, brother…take care, yeah?” Graves’ smile seemed forced, like he was holding back tears. When the shadow company leader reached up and gave him a gentle pat on the bicep - he didn’t flinch. It left a small bit of warmth and comfort…something about the touch felt natural.
At the soft gesture, Simon couldn’t help but swallow a lump in his throat.
“Of course…”
Simon felt a hand on his shoulder, just as kind and soft. He turned his gaze back towards his captain. Who offered a knowing smile.
“C’mon lad, we better get going.”
Simon blinked, feeling his eyes sting and heart ache as he nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to speak as he hesitantly stepped back and away from Graves.
Simon couldn’t bring himself to say more - his head was swirling and he was reeling. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He was supposed to be stone cold, dead.
But as he stepped further away from Graves, the ache in his chest grew.
It was like he was being separated from family, again.
A comforting hand on his lower back settled his troubling thoughts. Price looked at him - past his mask and into his eyes.
“It’ll be rough, it’s your first transfer since everything happened. But you’ll feel better once we’re in the air. I promise.”
Simon wanted to deny it - excuse it under the guise of hating long trips. But looking into Price’s caring gaze, he just couldn’t. He swallowed another lump and nodded.
“Thanks sir..” he grunted, making himself comfortable in the plane’s cockpit.
“Of course, Simon…” Price sat next to him, placing a grounding hand on his knee.
It felt nice, it helped soothe his aching heart. But his stomach still churned with unease as he stared at Graves - the man forcing a smile of his own while Shepherd loomed behind him, a bruising grip on his shoulder.
Before anything else could be said or done - the plane’s hangar doors closed. Officially marking his separation from General Shepherd.
And to an extent; Commander Graves.
He had no idea why that thought made him feel so sad.
[**/??/????]
Simon was cold and scared. His entire frame was trembling . Papa? or was it Papi? that thing had dumped him back in his gorey crib. Leaving him to endure the screams of his faceless comrades and forced to brave the dark.
He couldn’t move, the pills in his bottle had made his limbs useless. All he could do was stare right into the empty eye sockets of his mother’s skull, her jaw clenched shut on the mobile of scratched out dog tags above him.
He felt tears spill down his cheeks as the corpses of faceless soldiers loomed down at him. Screaming at him.
“ HOW COULD YOU FORGET ABOUT US?!” Their voices screamed in unison “WE DIED FOR YOU AND YOU FORGOT!”
Simon couldn’t do anything but sob as the corpses of fallen soldiers screamed at him. Their rotting breath overwhelmed his senses. He tried to lift his arms to cover his ears, to shield himself from their verbal abuse.
But he was paralyzed. Literally and by fear.
He shut his eyes trying to zone out and tune their screams out. Wishing papa/papi would come back and fix this - he didn’t want to be here! He wanted his papa! He wanted to be held and be told he was alright!
Suddenly a warm hand caressed his cheek. The touch was so soft, so comforting.
He gasped, peering up at the source of the touch.
“B-Bubby!” He sobbed, finally gaining some feeling in his arms and reaching out, making desperate grabby hands.
Bubby leaned over the gorey crib, their face obscured and their aura was a bright, radiating light - almost blinding. But just from the warmth of their touch, Simon knew it was his bubby.
Bubby didn’t say a word. Just scooping Simon up and cradling Simon close to their chest. Simon hiccuped, burying his face in their chest, taking in Bubby’s comforting scent through little sobs and hiccups.
Bubby smelt so nice…just like home.
Bubby seemed to chuckle warmly at his antics, they leaned down and pressed their feather soft lips against his forehead
“My baby…”
They cooed sweetly, carrying Simon past the gorey halls, shielding him from the rotting arms that tried to grasp him. Their sweet humming drowned out papa/papi’s cries and protests.
Before he knew it, they were at the bright, glass doors again…except now, the doors were wide open.
Simon couldn’t see past the blinding lights but he did see another set of arms come through the open doorway, their arms extended out. Waiting for something (or someone) to be placed in them.
Before Simon could process everything before him, he was suddenly too far from Bubby’s chest and scent - and passed off into the stranger’s arms. He teared up and panicked, scrambling and trying to break free.
He was gently guided to the other figure’s chest, their calloused, aged hands brushing their fingers through his curled hair. Through his panicked grunts and cries he managed to smell something very familiar
Earthy, woody smells. Mixed with a hint of Tobacco and spices - the cigar from before!
He looked up, curiously. Warm, loving eyes peered down at him with such love and adoration…they didn’t have a name yet, but Simon could tell they meant well. He relaxed into their touch, nuzzling up against their chest. Earning a warm chuckle from the figure.
“Still a cuddly one after all this time, Si?” The figure whispered at him, sweeping their fingers through his hair.
“Mhm…cuddles goo’...” Simon cooed sleepily, resting his head against the figure’s chest.
“Glad to hear it, lad.” They whispered back, beginning to step away from the glass door - and away from Bubby.
Realizing Bubby would be trapped with papa, he grabbed onto Bubby’s sleeve. Stopping the mystery figure from moving more.
“B-Bubby! No!” Simon cried out, tearing up again. “Come bubby! Come!” Simon tugged at Bubby desperately, trying to force Bubby through the doors.
Although Simon couldn’t see Bubby’s face, Bubby’s light dimmed. Bubby took a shaky breath and delicately took Simon’s hands in his, pressing them up to his lips and kissing the knuckles.
“Bubby has to stay, sweet thing…papa needs someone to stay here..” Bubby explained, their tone very sad. “...But you’re in good hands…and that makes Bubby so, so happy..”
Simon hiccups, his lip wobbling as tears fall down “B-But si can’ be happy withou’ bubby..”
“I know, sweet heart…bubby will miss his baby too..” Bubby says, cupping Simon’s cheek and wiping away his tears. “But tell you what…you remember Lambie?”
“Lambie..”
“Bubby gave lambie so many hugs and kisses before your big trip! So when you miss bubby, you can give lambie a biiiig hug and a kiss and It’ll be like I’m right there with you!”
Just then, seemingly out of nowhere, a little fluffy lamb plush was placed in his arms, seemingly by the new figure holding him. Simon held the precious plush close, burying his nose in her worn fluff - she smelt just like bubby. It reminded him of Bubby’s love, Bubby’s warmth…it felt like Bubby was right there.
Simon’s eyes fluttered shut, he gently took Lambie’s ear into his mouth and began to suckle and chew on the plushie’s ear. Earning a warm chuckle from the new figure.
“That’s it, lamb…you’re okay…jus’ relax…”
Simon felt himself moving again - away from the prison of endless hallways and gore.
And away from Bubby.
He glanced at the doors one last time, Bubby’s light dimming more as papa/papi loomed over them, dangerously.
But before he could see anymore, The new figure brought him closer to his chest. Enveloping him in a comforting warmth that he thought only bubby could provide...
[29/01/2020] 2:30am.
Hereford, United Kingdom. Capt John Price.
John was lying next to Simon, watching his troubled lieutenant cry in his sleep. The man seemingly having another wicked nightmare. He knew that deep down, this was over stepping an unspoken boundary. But he couldn’t let Simon suffer. Not after the last time.
He won’t ever forget Simon thrashing wildly, sweat and tears falling down the unconscious man’s face. His whimpers and pleading for his father to stop…
No, he couldn’t let that happen again. He couldn’t just standby and watch. Especially now that Simon was back in his care again.
And right now? Cuddling his lieutenant, watching him snuggle and suckle at his precious lamb plushie (which he thought Simon had thrown out) seemed like the right thing to do. Anything to help his little lamb Lieutenant get a decent night’s rest.
“Bubby…” Simon mumbled sadly in his sleep, sniffling past Lambie’s ear.
“Shh shh shh…It’s okay, Simon.” Price shushed gently, sweeping Simon’s curly hair out of his face to press a comforting kiss to the man’s flushed forehead. “I’m here now…I’ve got you.”
Simon hiccupped and settled again, snuggling even more into Price’s side. Tucking his head in and making himself look so incredibly small. The sight tugged at the captain’s heartstrings. He cupped Simon's face, brushing away the stray tears. The action itself made Simon stir lightly but quickly settling back to sleep. The lieutenant sighing and sinking into the captain's warm hand.
“M’ma..” Simon mumbled in his sleep, nuzzling Price’s hand unconsciously.
Oh. That was new...New but not unwelcome.
Price swallowed a lump in his throat, holding Simon as close as he could to his chest.
“Yeah...mama has you, love.” Price said, his voice wobbly.
He’d eventually have to have a conversation about all this with Simon. His dreams, his blackout spells, his amnesia. He'd also have to ask who this 'bubby' was.
Eventually.
But for now, He’d let Simon rest, Let Simon feel small in his sleep. Help pick up the pieces of Simon Riley and hold them tightly to his chest.
He’d be mama, if that’s what Simon needed. He’d do it everyday if he had to.