Chasing a Ghost

Chapter Nine

You were surprised when Soap took you all the way to a helicopter headed back for base. When you'd questioned him on why you were leaving, he told you that Price had ordered him to take you home.

"Why?" You'd asked.

Soap looked at you with a grimace. "Have you not looked at yourself, Y/N?"

You used the screen of your phone to look at your reflection and immediately realized what he was talking about.

You looked awful. One of your eyes was bruised and puffy across the bottom lid. You had finger-shaped bruises wrapped around your neck. Your bottom lip had been split open. And your body ached with an extreme soreness you hadn't felt since you completed basic training. You looked like you'd been hit by a van.

Even still, though, you hadn't wanted to leave. What about Price and Ghost? What are they back there doing?

"Gathering more intel," Soap responded when you asked him. "They'll be back in a day or two."

"Are we any closer to capturing Maghrebi?"

"No. Pretty far off from the looks of it."

------

The next few days passed by slowly, the time dragging on and on due to your injuries keeping you from doing much. You were forced to occupy yourself with horribly menial tasks that bored you, causing you to nearly fall asleep at your makeshift work desk in your room at base.

You stared down into a stack of papers, wishing they would just burst into flames.

Your phone dinged and you gratefully picked it up, happy to have an excuse to take your eyes away from the stack of paperwork. It was Soap.

L.T.'s just come back. Thought you might want to know.

You prickled slightly at the implication of his words, 'thought you might want to know.' Does he mean anything by that...? you wondered, annoyed once again that he kept trying to insinuate there was something going on between the two of you. Still, your heart fluttered at the mention of Ghost's arrival back on base. You missed his presence, missed catching glimpses of him going about his day as you worked around the encampment. Him being gone felt like a small piece of happiness had been taken away from your daily life. A few times over the last few days, you'd found yourself wishing you had his phone number so you could inconspicuously ask him questions about how the mission was going without you and Soap. You wondered if he'd be open to the idea of texting you. Wondered if he might even open up some doors for conversation between texts. Your imagination was soaring once again, imagining what kind of chats you could possibly have with the Lieutenant over your cell phones. You imagined yourself sending him memes or videos, wondering if he'd send any back, a chance to see further into what kinds of things amused him.

You decided not to respond back to Soap, heaving a sigh and adjusting your eyes back to the paperwork before you. You checked off and initialed some things here and there, mind returning to its focus when you jumped at the sound of a knock on your door.

"Who..." You whispered to yourself, achingly pulling yourself from the chair and moving to the door.

You pulled it open, a confused look on your face when you saw him.

Simon.

Standing hulkingly in your doorway, his head nearly reaching the top of the entrance. He wore the balaclava with his black eye paint smudged around the corners, a black T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms, and a pair of casual jeans to match.

Nervousness flared up in your heart. You remembered how terrible your face looked the last time you'd seen it.

"Can I come in?"