Work Text:
Ghost had begun to think about things that did not retain his work. That never went well. He needed to keep “Simon” buried deep inside himself. Simon is supposed to be dead. Simon is no longer supposed to exist. People aren’t supposed to come back from the dead and Simon had died long ago.
So why was he here, clutching a stuffed bear and soft blanket like he was in critical condition and they were his life support? Why were tears streaming (more like a tsunami he thought bitterly) down his face for the first time in what felt like centuries? Why was Simon's weakness showing through now? And why the fuck were Price and Johnny so fucking invested in him? He had no redeeming qualities, he had no skills besides killing, and he didn’t deserve what they were giving him. He didn’t even know what he needed, so how did they?
“Simon?” came a soft voice, digging him out of his head as he turned to see Johnny sitting next to him on his bed like the asshole he was.
Johnny had noticed something was wrong with Ghost the moment he had seen him that morning. Ghost was fidgety, more than “a little more distant” than usual, and he had kept on twitching and flailing slightly whenever someone got within and few feet of him.
Now to someone who wasn’t Soap (or Price for that matter) this behavior would be seen as normal or just ignored by anyone who didn’t wish to wake up to the barrel end of whatever gun Ghost decided was right for the job. But Soap and Price knew better and they did not fear Simon in the slightest, because that was all he was, he was Simon.
It was Soap who had been the one to notice the glossiness of Ghost’s eyes while they were in the meeting, it had been price who took notice of the far-off looks that Ghost was giving. There was no telling where his mind was, just that it wasn’t in the meeting room where it was supposed to be.
Soap’s hand had landed on Simon's just as the meeting ended, and that was it, Simon had enough of today and needed to be alone. He sprung up quickly and quietly as he proceeded back to his room with his eyes focused on the floor and not the way they began to blur around the edges or how his breathing had changed and was now coming harder and more painful than before.
Soap had followed behind him but Simon was too out of it to take notice or care. Same with Soap giving Price a look before he quickly followed Simon out of the room. Soap followed Simon and Price choose to check on them when he knew they wouldn’t be interrupted.
Simon unlocked his door only to realize Johnny was right behind him. He paused and looked at Johnny only for Johnny to push the door open and guide Simon inside and onto the bed. Another thing Simon doesn’t know is why he didn’t put up and fight and try to get Johnny away from him in his moment of weakness and vulnerability. But he didn’t. Johnny was seemingly impossible to push away, to resist and when Johnny sat on the bed next to him and put an arm around his shoulders, Simon broke.
Well, Simon has always been broken as he never remembers a time when he wasn’t, but he did start sobbing very hard into the side of johnny’s chest as he sunk into the built-up despair as well as into Johnny and Simon's bed. Price came in shortly after, scaring the living hell out of both of them for a second before Price locked the door and went under Simon's bed to retrieve the aforementioned comfort items. Simon probably would have questioned how the hell Price knew they were under there if he wasn't hysterically sobbing and just thankful to wrap the dark grey blanket around himself and Johnny’s side.
The teddy bear had been a gift from Tommy when they were little. Tommy had saved up about 10-20 pounds by doing chores around their neighborhood and bought him the stuffed bear. The soft thick blanket was a present from his mother a little while before she died. It was to keep him warm and safe while on duty. He found it home the night he found her, Beth, Tommy, and little Joseph with bullets between their eyes. Was that the last time he cried like this? He remembered Simon dying and being replaced by the super-soldier nicknamed Ghost, but he tried to push all of the rest of it down.
Ghost had no family, no “home”, and defiantly no feelings. But, as he sat there on his bed, Price had pulled up a chair, Soap with his arms around him, and himself having some sort of breakdown, Ghost understood that none of that was true for Simon who was apparently not dead.
Ghost found comfort in all of this, every bit of it. The soft words that Price and Johnny were exchanging, the engorgement they gave him that it was ok, that HE was ok. The position he was in on the bed in Johnny’s arms, which one would think would be uncomfortable because of the slight height difference, but it was expertly comforting and comfortable to Simon.
Simon’s cries became small hiccups now and then he tried to wipe his eyes. his makeup wasn’t there because he didn’t have the motivation that morning to put it on, so he just opted for the bulletproof skull mask to keep most of his face hidden. He had taken it off just after he sat down and it now lay abandoned on the outside of the blanket. He soon became very numb and tired. He was glad that Price and Soap hadn’t started asking questions or prodded at him for an explanation.
Simon’s eyes slowly began to droop as wave after wave of exhaustion hit him. he fell asleep soon after. For the first time in a long time, he was not plagued with a single nightmare and he felt not only warm but safe.