Chapter Text
Who could have anticipated that a man who initially appeared to be coldhearted was not as bitter as he seemed? It is difficult to try and imagine that his heart was not made of ice. That was your first impression of the man. Upon your arrival at the new base, his intense gaze was immediately drawn to yours. You took a moment to acknowledge your new teammates, who would gradually evolve into a family-like bond. They presented a reassuring presence, embodying qualities that were formidable, admirable, and genuinely ingenious. Yet, your attention remained fixated on him. His strikingly beautiful eyes left an indelible mark on your memory. He introduced himself as Ghost, and no further words were exchanged between the two of you. The firm handshake he offered sent a shiver down your spine, as his calloused hands came into contact with your remarkably soft ones.
As a sniper, your role did not necessitate physical strength to overpower an opponent; a single bullet to the brain would suffice. However, this did not imply a lack of experience in close combat. You were far from weak. Nevertheless, your strength was often underestimated due to your gender. In the early days of your career, you encountered a considerable amount of sexism, yet it never deterred your end goal. You had nothing to lose and everything to prove. You were as competent as any other candidate, possibly even superior. Simon seemed acutely aware of this; he never underestimated your abilities. During training, he exerted his full effort, which was a refreshing change. He showed no concern for your gender, only for the potential soldier you could become. It often felt as though the others were holding back, even if only slightly. Perhaps they were cautious not to harm you. They never appeared to be overly aggressive with one another. While this consideration was thoughtful, it did not lend itself to effective training.
As the months progressed, you no longer felt like a bull in a china shop. Gradually, you became an integral part of their family. Nervous laughter transformed into the unrestrained cackles you had always learned to suppress. There was nothing left to conceal. This was where you discovered a sense of belonging amidst the chaos. Missions began to feel like duties worth surviving from, a realization that unsettled you. Once a carefree soldier focused solely on mission success, you evolved into a cautious soldier determined to emerge alive for—them, and for him.
You never anticipated that the man you once feared would be the one to provide comfort during your first mistake with the new team. You felt as though you had let everyone down, not just the mission that day. The return journey was enveloped in silence, and you dared not meet anyone's gaze. Everyone was in a dire state, particularly you. With a broken leg, a shattered nose, and a gunshot wound in your side, you could hardly bear to contemplate the multitude of cuts that marred your body. You longed to sob uncontrollably, yet your focus remained solely on staying awake. Throughout the journey, you felt a set of eyes boring into the top of your head as it hung low. You knew exactly whose gaze it was; he was the only one whose stare felt like a literal laser beam. It struck you as peculiar that he, of all people, was the one most concerned for your well-being.
You were never alone as you lay in that pristine bed awaiting recovery. Simon was by your side the entire duration of your stay. Though he spoke few words, each one held significant weight. It was reassuring to simply know he was present for you. Even after you regained the ability to move around the base freely, he consistently offered the support you had been reluctant to admit you needed. Day by day, your bond deepened. Light-hearted conversations evolved into lengthy discussions. Casual check-ins after missions transformed into moments of mutual comfort following challenging days. It seemed you had struck a chord deep within his heart. The growing intimacy between you and him became a source of discomfort for the others. Johnny frequently complained that neither of you were getting any younger. You laughed it off, while Simon shot icy glares at Soap.
Who could have predicted that all it would take was a cold, solemn night?