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Stealing some Sergeant’s chair was easy. Bringing it to the watchtower was easy. Dismissing the soldier on guard was easy. Sitting there, in the rain, with nothing to occupy himself, was not easy. Ghost had created his new life so meticulously that Simon shouldn’t be able to break through the cracks of the walls built around him, but he was. Every day Ghost stayed on base and had to wait to be cleared healthy for going back to work meant more time Simon had to wriggle his way through the tunnels in Ghost’s mind. Until tonight, Ghost could feel Simon banging on the door, screaming to let him out. Despite how much he may want to, he can’t. It’s better for everyone if he doesn’t.
When Simon was around, people got killed. And it’s not like that didn’t happen when Ghost was around, but with Simon, it was the wrong people. Everyone Simon ever cared about died and the one bastard that he didn’t, just wouldn’t die. No matter what anyone did he stayed alive and stayed tormenting Simon, because he could. Because Simon let him. He let him be his pet. He let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to do with him. That’s what Simon was good at. Surrendering. He was good at letting himself be an object for others because he simply couldn’t be bothered to correct them. He wasn’t sure whether he should correct them. Simon Riley = object seems about right in his mind. Inanimate. Cold. Alone.
Ghost was an object too, but this time he was the one using people. He learnt how to get people to do things, for his own gain. He learnt how to smooth talk. He learnt how to torture. He learnt how to push people’s buttons so hard they’d shatter under the weight of his finger. That’s what Ghost was good at. Ghost had locked Simon away, and turned into a scary replica of his father. Simon’s father. Ghost didn’t have a family. As far as everyone was concerned, Ghost wasn’t born of a womb, he just appeared. Which is so close to the truth.
On days like this, Ghost shattered under his own weight. The weight of his mask pulled his face down and made sure he couldn’t raise his eyes. Or meet anyone’s stares. Days like this meant Ghost needed to be more alone than he was before. Which to any regular person, wouldn’t be possible, but we all know it is. Days like this were made to test whether Ghost was reading to meet G-d. Whether he was ready to wave up at Johnny when his time came after.
Johnny.
John Fucking MacTavish.
Johnny had infiltrated Ghost’s tunnels, navigating it easier than Simon has. He got through and found the box Simon was kept in and took a sledge hammer to it. He created the cracks. He let Simon out and Ghost was terrified. Terrified of what might happen is Simon got to the other side of that door. What if he found Johnny? He’d do something stupid. Ghost is sure of it. Something stupid like kiss him or profess love and Johnny would laugh. As he always did at Ghost’s awful jokes. Ghost knew he’d be laughing at Simon, thinking he was taking the piss or because he found how pathetic Simon was funny. A lot of people did the latter, because Simon was truly pathetic. Simon was so pathetic he couldn’t even take his own life right and now Ghost was stuck with wearing long sleeves around his teammates. Ghost was stuck with appetite issues and having to have a separate meal prepared for him by the underpaid army cook’s who gave him stupidly sympathetic looks. All because Simon couldn’t digest the fucking pills like he was supposed to.
Simon was the reason he was currently being held off on missions, because people didn’t believe Ghost wouldn’t try to kill himself. They’d seen the hospital records. If Ghost told them that was all Simon’s fault they’d lock him in loonyville for the rest of his life, so he didn’t. He just took it. That’s how he knew Simon was slipping through the cracks.
Slowly, Ghost could hear someone calling his name. Shaking his shoulder. Concern in their voice.
“Stop sounding like that” He mumbled. He didn’t care who was talking he just didn’t like what they sounded like.
“Ghost I’ve been shaking and calling you for 5 minutes, where did you go?” Johnny asks, his voice waived but the concern didn’t.
“Did you eat?” He asks Johnny, who now came into view as he stood above him, trying to shelter himself from the rain by using the small roof above them.
“What? Yeah of course. Why are you asking?”
“What was it?”
“Some weird chicken and potatoes, at least I think it was chicken. Why?” his voice was soft but confused now. Ghost laughed dryly at him. “Did you not eat?”
“No I ate”
“Then you should know”
“Ever noticed how you’ll never see me eating in mess or at all really?” Ghost looked up at him for the first time, the look on his face was unintelligible.
“Yeah, cause you’d have to lift your mask up”
“That’s not why, Johnny” Ghost laughed again, Johnny just made a confused sound and gestured for Ghost to carry on. Ghost thinks he’s probably delighted in the fact he is opening up but none of this is what he wants to hear.
“It’s cause I have to eat different meals. I would have told them not to bother because I don’t care but once Price found out he made it mandatory. Like the guys that have weird fucking allergies to common foods”
“You have a weird fucking allergy?”
“No. Cirrhosis.”
“Cirr- What now?”
“Scarring of the liver, due to long-term liver damage. Means my liver doesn’t work like yours does. Scar tissue stops it from working properly” Ghost whispers. The first time he was told this information, it was seared in his brain. Exactly how it was. Why he had it. How to manage it and more importantly, how to ignore it. It had to be stated on his personnel file but because it wouldn’t affect his work per se, no one else needed to know.
“Shit Ghost. Liver damage?” Is all Johnny has to say. Ghost nods and looks away, watching the rain fall in large drops from the roof to the floor. “From drinking?”
“Well it certainly didn’t help” Ghost tried to joke, it didn’t land. “Not predominantly but they said if I kept up the drinking how I was then my liver would fail. I can drink occasionally. Or at least, I do.”
Soap’s legs shook a bit as he was thinking about what to say next. Unconsciously, he reached his hand out to touch Ghost’s knee. “Why does that mean you have to eat different things?”
“I uh have to stay away from things with more than a little salt, i have to eat loads of protein, i have to stay away from certain oils, i have to eat little and often instead of 3 meals a day like the rest of you.” Ghost’s eyes unfocus and refocus while he stares at Soap’s hand, silently begging for it to not be moved. Logically, Ghost knew that Johnny was just trying to understand, but if he kept asking questions like he cares then he was going to crumble. And it wouldn’t be pretty. Simon reached out and tentatively placed his hand on top of Johnny’s.
“How’d it happen?”
“Don’t ask me that yet. Just let me-”
“Let you what, Ghost?” Johnny tried to meet his eyes but he shook his head and stared at their feet. “Simon?” Simon looked up instinctively and that’s when Johnny saw the tears gathering in his eyes. Tears of being pushed to the side for years, not allowed to speak for fear of others. Something in Simon’s face finally made Johnny’s heart break. It could have been the months of seeing his eyes so sad, so lifeless, and now they felt safe enough to collect tears. Johnny slowly sat himself in Simon’s lap, raising Simon’s arm for him and wrapping it around his waist. Silently, he curled his own arms around Simon’s neck and hugged him. That’s when he felt the first sob. A sob of relief. Knowing he didn’t have to hide anymore, because Johnny was there to keep him safe. The sobs that followed were more erratic, the pace and severity was irregular but Johnny wasn’t bothered. He continued to hold him, rub up and down his back and tell him that he’s never going to turn his back on him. Simon mumbled something through the sobs and even though Johnny didn’t know what he was saying he further reassured him by pressing a chased kiss to the clothed arm. The arm that had come to grab Johnny’s shoulder and draw him even closer. It took a long time for Simon to calm down, every time he thought he had, his brain would come up with something to make him cry again or even harder.
Once he did, he didn’t loosen his grip on Johnny and Johnny didn’t loosen his grip on him. They held each other and listened to the rain, Simon thought Johnny fell asleep at one point but his thumb came to rub circles just under his shoulder blade.
“Are you cold?” Johnny asked after a little while.
“Not anymore” Simon replied, his voice muffled by the coat Johnny was wearing. Before this, he wasn’t conscious of the fact he only had a shirt sleeve tshirt, his balaclava, and joggers on. Johnny leaned back and quickly put his hands on either side of Simon’s face. Simon’s hands came to rest on his hips as he turned in the chair to let his legs hand from either side.
“Can you tell me how you got those?” Johnny said softly, looking down at Simon’s wrists, where the old thin white scars lay under 5 thick, angry, pink-ish scars. Simon clears his throat.
“Same way i got liver damage” He says, watching as Johnny figures it out.
“How many times have you tried to kill yourself Simon?”
“4”
“Do you feel like you still need or want to?” Johnny asked carefully, rubbing his thumb over where he felt Simon’s cheekbone.
“I haven’t felt anything for a really long time but I suppose not.” His answer satisfied Johnny who nodded appropriately.
“If you ever feel you need to, or want someone to talk to, or don’t feel safe, or literally anything. I want you to call me, or come find me. Even if its 70 years from now. Whenever and wherever. Promise me that?” Johnny sounds so sure. It’s like the wool is being taken off of Simon’s eyes and he can see clearly for the first time. He understands. He understands what it feels to be loved, he understands what it feels to have a home. He understands all of this because of John MacTavish.
“I promise”
“You, uh, don’t have to say it back but I love you, okay? And if anything happened to you, I’d probably loose a lot of myself. Now I know that’s stupid in our line of work but I can’t help it. I’m with you for the long haul. Permanently. However you want me.”
“It’s not ideal but I like the idea of something permanent. I like the idea of it being you too” Simon says quietly, running his hands over the muscles in Johnny’s thighs. “I love you too”