"You won't even look at me!" Ghost raised his voice as he slammed the door to your office, watching you intently. You'd been avoiding him recently, and he'll be damned if he lets it continue on without reason.
"Tell me why you've been avoiding me. I won't ask again, or I'll force it out of you." He locked the door to your office, leaning against it with his arms crossed.
The silence following was deafening, the tension thick.
Even then, three weeks after you messed everything up, you couldn't look at him. You knew that the bullet wound he got because you messed up was probably already healing very well and he could already go back to training. But the guilt you felt deep inside of you, the guilt that no one knew that it was your fault, slowly ate you up from the inside.
You sat down on the chair behind your desk, elbows planted on your knees and face buried in your hands to shield your embarrassed and guilt washed face off.
„Just leave it, okay?" you mumbled into your palms as the memories of the mission flashed in front of your face.
"Absolutely not leaving it." Ghost pushed himself off of the door, moving over to your desk and grabbing your face with one hand as he pulled it away from your hands. "Look at me."
He was breathing heavily, his muscles tensed. "I can't believe you don't have the courage to speak to me, after three weeks. I have a hole in my stomach from that bullet and you won't even look at me?"
He grumbled quietly, letting go of your face.
The moment he let go of your face, the memory of that incident appeared in front of your eyes.
Shouting, screaming, bullets flying through the air, slicing through the chaos, hitting walls and bodies. In the distance, a familiar face. Emotions boiling up; regret, guilt, anger, rage. A once thought comrade, more than that, a fling, pointing a gun into your direction. Less than that; a traitor.
A shout from behind, gathering both of our attentions. A british sounding growl, right before the gun got pointed towards him instead of you. A shot. A scream. Your own gun pointed towards the shooter. A shot. Another dropping body.
Tears started to well up your eyes as you battled with yourself, wether you should confess that you had been the weak link. The one who gave away crucial intel to a traitor, because he used your own weapons against you.
YOU ARE READING
Broken // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
FanfictionYou've joined the 141 a little more than a year ago. Being one of the few females on the team never was a struggle for you, but you always had trouble to create a real bond with the other members. After you thought you've found your place, bonding w...
