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MacTavish would never make him interrogate a target. There was no doubt in his mind that, when Ghost picked up the blowtorch, when he’d rounded on the informant, when he’d waved the blue flame in his face as if it wasn’t the identical blue of his eyes behind the sunglasses, that Ghost had been acting on his own will.
ghost is alarmingly good at getting information out of targets. he’s not nearly as good at dealing with it
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- Part 72 of yours to keep
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hi this angst is so good even tho u hate writing it
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Fic Info
how much it matters to you by Anonymous (WorkID: 89301231)
Summary: MacTavish would never make him interrogate a target. There was no doubt in his mind that, when Ghost picked up the blowtorch, when he’d rounded on the informant, when he’d waved the blue flame in his face as if it wasn’t the identical blue of his eyes behind the sunglasses, that Ghost had been acting on his own will.
ghost is alarmingly good at getting information out of targets. he’s not nearly as good at dealing with it
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how much it matters to you by AnonymousSummary:
MacTavish would never make him interrogate a target. There was no doubt in his mind that, when Ghost picked up the blowtorch, when he’d rounded on the informant, when he’d waved the blue flame in his face as if it wasn’t the identical blue of his eyes behind the sunglasses, that Ghost had been acting on his own will.ghost is alarmingly good at getting information out of targets. he’s not nearly as good at dealing with it
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09 Ghoap <3
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“I can’t remember,” his eyes finally met MacTavish’s, and there was a hunted, animalistic look in his eyes, sick and desperate for something MacTavish couldn’t even begin to name, “I dislocated his shoulders, and he said— something, so he put the jumper cables on, and I don’t remember what I said— I don’t know why he did it—”
this is so well written what the fuck. HOWWWWW
“I did— I did okay?”
Ghost knew better. Okay wasn’t a word that came remotely close to torturing a man in the back alleys of a favela. Okay was a privilege they’d left behind a long time ago, getting their hands dirty to keep the world clean. It was a ridiculous thing to ask, an insane thing to expect an honest answer to—
Which meant that he wasn’t asking if it was really okay.
Ghost was good at everything, but he was particularly good at interrogations; they both knew it, the way he fell effortlessly into the role of a monster, the way he knew just what buttons to press to terrify anyone, easier and more effective than anyone trained in it. And the disconcerting part was that, better than anyone else, MacTavish knew just how effective he was— just how badly the scars would hurt if they ever got the chance to heal, just how terrified the target would wake up from nightmares— just how much it would take to even survive what had happened.
MacTavish blinked at him. Ghost, in a moment of reluctance so unguarded that it could only be awarded to MacTavish through trust, chewed on his lower lip as he waited for his answer, as if he was genuinely afraid of what MacTavish might say.
“Did you think that I— that I wouldn’t be okay with what you did? What you— had to do?”
“You kept looking at me after,” Ghost replied, very softly. “Like I was— you know.”
dude. dude . DUDE. i need to re-read this entire series oh my god it's so beautifully written