Gloss and Salt | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

10

Glory isn't something she seeks, that bone in her body had shattered years ago. But exchanging words, even if it's just with four other people, it keeps her leveled. Helps to work through it, better than any of the NSA's shrinks ever could.

The laptop whirrs while Richardson goes on about consequences. She wonders how Ghost is doing. If he even still thinks of her. She can certainly feel echoes of him still. A low vibration on her wrist signals the end of the data transfer. Clint informs her about exfil, someone's waiting for her.

"I have Laswell down the pipeline. She wants you back for this. You're flying out to Lejeune. Too dangerous to keep you in the country right now." comes Richardson again.

The usual excitement over going back to the 141 is accompanied by a skip in her pulse when she thinks about fingers wrapped in skeletal gloves curling into her hair. The Ghost under the mask still feels far away from her, but even if she never gets to know him, maybe she can meet the one outside of the mask in a bed somewhere again.

Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, United States of America - September 17th, 09:56AM

All the kisses they shared in the last 24 hours don't linger like the last one. Tingling almost, it lays on her lips as she adjusts the collar of her shirt. A passing look in the bathroom mirror causes a deft pull to reverb through her abdomen. Her last clean shirt is pathetically unfit to hide the dark spots on her throat. For a solid five minutes she'd stared at them when she got back to her room, unable to pull away. The images and ghosting feelings on her body are so deliciously sweet and dark when she inspects them. Ghost was spot on, as he always so frustratingly is. She remembers. No one will make her ever feel as good as he does.

No one will also ever make her feel as vulnerable and raw as he does. Haunting nightmares plaguing Ghost wasn't something she was surprised by. Inevitable in their line of work, she expects every single one of them to succumb to the trauma they face on a regular basis. She is no exception herself. Ghost's body tells the story of unfathomable suffering of just his physical form, the mental scars have to be unbearable.

Comfort is something she readily and gladly gives. Ghost letting her comfort him was the thing that stunned her. A mix of sympathy and unnerving knowledge of what was happening with him opened her arms for him to crawl into. And when he gave into her the way that she gave into him, that was the moment she lost a part of her within him. The slippery slope she was navigating before had become a fast descent far earlier than she admitted to herself.

"Yours..." she absentmindedly whispers to her reflection when her finger passes over her broken up skin.

Absolutely nothing drew her to him in the beginning. Well. Maybe his solid build. And his dark and heavy voice calling her over the comms. And that's all it was. Physicalities. And they still exude such an overwhelming force on her, she doesn't recognize herself. He lets her drown, even wants her to shut off her mind to just focus on him and his guiding touches. An opportunity to just be, and that being enough. Not the Agent, always thinking and knowing. Just her. The thought of his dark eyes and firm hands when he split her in half last night vibrates through her with a shiver, making her pause in pulling out a turtleneck sweater out of her bag. She's not up for questions right now with the knowledge of where she'll arrive after a six and a half hour drive.

More goodbyes are said when she steps out of her assigned room. Soap offers to haul her gear to her truck, which she politely refuses. All the thoughts about Ghost have pushed down the apprehension of leaving the others. Every single time might be the last, one gig that she isn't assigned to going south and she might not ever see his dumb face again. She feels Ghost's eyes on her, but can't bring herself to reciprocate the gesture.