You sit up in your bed, sighing softly. You so did not want to do this right now. You had just finished a physical therapy session and were exhausted, but this conversation needs to be had. You had thought about waiting until you got home, but Ghost had been walking around like a kicked puppy the whole time you had been in the hospital. You sigh again, steeling your nerves.
"I heard you." You murmur from your bed. Ghost looks up from the chair next to you, head tilted in confusion.
"When you were saying sorry, while I was in the...coma." You clarify, voice soft. His face doesn't...pale, exactly, but you know him well enough that you can tell he is ashamed and scared. He says nothing, just stares at you with slightly-wider-than-usual eyes. You take a deep breath and decide to tackle the easiest issue first.
"Ghost, darling, I-you have nothing to be sorry for." You say, leaning towards him despite your body's protests, "I chose to push you out of the way, number one. You didn't shoot me, ergo, not your fault."
"But if I had-"
"Ah-ah." You interrupt, "I wanted to go on this mission as much as you did. Hell, I volunteered when I knew it meant I'd get to work with you. So we both made that mistake, number two. And number three, you saved me. You can't feel guilty that I got shot but not feel good that you kept me from dying." You can tell he doesn't agree with you, but he doesn't protest either, so you leave it at that.
"Now onto the more pressing issue, which is that you don't feel worthy of my love." At this statement Ghost really does pale. You reach for him, interlocking your pale, thin fingers with his gloved ones.
"Simon, darling, how long have you felt like that?" You ask, voice breaking slightly, "Was it something I did? Did I do or say something to make you think that I don't value our relationship? That all I think is that you are a 'fucking bastard'? That I wouldn't move Heaven and Earth if it meant being able to love you?" You sound over the top, but to be fair you are doped up on pain meds and your only goal is to drive home the fact that you love him.
Ghost stares at you, lips parted under his mask.
"I-you haven't. I just-" He pauses, frowning. If this conversation wasn't so serious you would have laughed at his awkwardness around emotion. But it was serious, and you needed him to face it.
"Si," You whisper, "How could you possibly think I don't love you?" "I know you do!" He says finally, voice cracking, "I just don't understand why."
"Why?" You echo. He nods miserably, the skin that you can see under his mask flushed with shame. "That's...oh darling." You say, cupping his cheek, "Do you really think that you not saying 'I love you' bothers me? If it did, I would have left this relationship a long time ago, but it doesn't. You show affection for me in so many other ways, and those are the reasons I love you."
He opens his mouth but you cut him off. "You notice when I get overstimulated sometimes even before I recognize it, you remind me to eat when I forget, you never get mad when I forget important dates, or forget to respond to texts, you bring me home little trinkets when you come back from trips or missions, which, by the way, is a love language. And that is just a few examples. I could go on and on about how wonderful of a person you are under that soldier boy exterior." You blurt it out, not giving him a chance to refute. He looks down at his lap when you finish, but not before you see tears in his eyes.
"Thank you." He says hoarsely. You sit back, settling against the 87 pillows he had scrounged up for you. You know he is going to need a lot more reassurance, and you are going to need to drop as many hints as possible, but this conversation is a start. You yawn, the physical and emotional therapy you just went through making it difficult to stay awake.
His hand is still interlocked with yours and you tug on it gently. He stands up, moving as close to you as he can get. He looks at you questioningly, and you pretend not to notice how red his eyes are. You tug his wrist again, pulling him down. He looks surprised for a moment, and then rolls his eyes. "Alright alright." He grumbles, climbing into the bed with you. Very, very carefully, so as not to hurt your leg, he settles himself behind you, positioning you so that you lay against his chest, sandwiched between his legs. His arms wrap around you and his chin rests on your head, sending little shivers through your body. You smile at the feeling and sink into him, falling into a peaceful sleep.
