Crazy. Psychotic. Cold. A machine, a killing machine.
There were many ways to describe her. She was ruthless. Her heart scorched one too many times. Seen too much to the point she was changed. New recruits to the base never approached her. Too scared to attempt contact and dreading any interaction they needed to have with her.
There was no emotion behind her eyes, and if she ever felt anything she wouldn't show it. She knew how to do her job, and she would do whatever it took to get the results she wanted. Years of military training were drilled into her head and it showed.
She truly was the best of the best. The perfect soldier.
Ghost watched her on the plane. The 141 knew that this would be a difficult mission. They very well could have been fed bad intel which could result in all of them dying. But the possibility of getting the information they were after was too important. It was worth the risk. They all knew that.
Soap was cracking jokes with Gaz, the pair genuinely trying to lighten the mood. Price had his eyes closed as he leaned back against the rumbling wall, but every now and then his mouth would twitch into a smile, indicating that he was listening and enjoying the lighthearted antics.
They had been chosen for the 141 because they were the best. They put everything into their missions, and there was nothing that would stop them. Even the jokes and laughter wouldn't stop them from doing their job.
She blinked slowly, looking up at Ghost. For a moment they just stared at each other. They seemed to search each other for any sign of fear. None was shown.
She took a deep breath. Ghost watched as her chest slowly rose and fell. He wondered if that was the only thing that kept her from being an actual machine. Breathing lungs and a beating heart.
He admired her dedication to the task force. Her ability to perform under pressure. He respected her capability to do the things they do without letting it affect her.
He was interested in her.
Everything about her seemed to make him more curious. She was a puzzle he desperately needed to put together. He needed her.
He would always cover her. Always had her back in the field and protected her. He had no doubts in her qualifications, but he couldn't help his unconscious lean towards her. His initial reaction would always be to take out those who posed a threat to her.
He trusted her, which didn't come easy to him. He trusted her judgments. He trusted her actions.
And though he trusted her, she often made choices that landed her in deep waters. Maybe she had a death wish. Maybe she deemed dying in battle as an honorable death. Maybe she believed that her life was the perfect sacrifice for her teammates and the mission.
He didn't know. He had his suspicions, but he didn't know.
And because of that, there were many times when after a mission he found himself yelling at her. How could she do what she had done? How could she not be afraid of dying? Sure, they all knew that there was a high likelihood that none of them would live to see old age, but to just not care? Missions were important, and their lives were at risk every time they suited up, but they were also important. No other team could pull off the tasks that they took on.
She blinked at him once more. He knew that in her own way, she was meditating. She was preparing herself for the mission in her own way, just like they all did.
He wondered what she was thinking. He wanted her to talk to him, tell him how she felt. He wanted to let the words fall from his mouth, to apologize.
They hadn't spoken to each other in a couple of days. Their last mission was intense, one of the hardest they'd ever been through. She had been ruthless and reckless and that angered him. When they had gotten back to the base he ripped her a new one. Yelled and screamed at her.
Though his mask covered his face, it was red and burning with anger. It didn't happen often, but his emotions were controlling him.
She wasn't originally a part of the 141. None of them had actually known her. But they were assigned a mission early on in the formation of the task force and her talents impressed all of them. It had actually been Ghost who had approached Price and Laswell about recruiting her for the team. He was the one to vouch for her.
As he shouted at her on the tarmac he wondered if that had been a mistake.
"You don't feel a thing, do you?" He snapped.
She stared at him, unmoving as he yelled.
"You're a machine, that's what you are." He screamed. "You're just a fucking machine!"
He was breathing heavily from his outburst. All onlookers had disappeared from the area, too scared to be around the radioactive fallout of what was taking place.
She had been staring at his chest all throughout the chastizing. For most of it, he thought she had tuned him out. Ignoring his words.
But when her eyes flickered up to meet his own, he couldn't help the involuntary sharp intake of air. Her eyes were cold, empty, and emotionless. He could feel the cold spread throughout his body.
"Of course, I'm a machine, lieutenant." She stated. His heart pounded in his chest. Her statement took him by surprise. At that moment he realized that all her life she had been seen as a tool, a soldier, a weapon. No one had seen her as a person, so she became what people wanted her to be. "What did you think I was?"
Her question rang and echoed through his head. What had he thought she was? What did he think she is?
"I thought you-" He paused, not knowing what he was going to say. "I thought-" He repeated, trailing off. He wanted to tell her everything. Wanted to tell her that he thought she was special. That he thought she was beautiful and talented and smart. He wanted to tell her that he thought she was worth everything to him.
But he didn't. He couldn't.
He watched her now, regretting his silence. He wondered if she was still angry with him. He wondered what she thought of him.
"Drop in 10 clicks." The pilot announced. Ghost's gaze ripped away from her's and they all started to get ready for the drop.
—
Ghost's heart was pounding. He was running faster than he ever had before. His lungs were burning but he didn't stop. Adrenaline was running through his veins, burning white fire. She was the only thing on his mind.
Soap was following right on his heels. When she hadn't given an answer to how she was doing they started to panic. Their intel had been bad, just as they expected, but they had been prepared for this.
Price had told them to go check on her. To give her backup. Her silence only meant trouble.
When they reached the top of the hill the two men could see her on her knees. Her arms were raised, almost as if she was surrendering. A guard stood in front of her, a knife in his right hand. They could tell that she had been hurt. She had obviously disarmed him in a fight, but she must have been injured to the point that her position didn't have a good outcome.
Ghost readied his gun and the two teammates stealthily made their way down the hill, making sure to stay hidden and in the shadows. Revealing their location would surely send her to her demise.
When they got closer they could hear the conversation that was taking place.
She was being snarky, sarcasm dripping from her words like venom. She was malicious, the confidence oozing from her aura. The enemy was getting more fed up with her with each word that fell from her lips.
"Wanna know something?" She asked. Ghost could see a big red blood stain on her side.
The enemy grumbled but indulged her.
"It's lucky I'm a righty." She smiled at him.
The guard looked confused.
"Because, uh-" She trailed off. Ghost and Soap's eyes widened in shock like the enemy's as she slammed her hand down on the knife. It went clean through, blood dripping from the blade as it poked out the other of her hand.
There was a pause as everyone tried to process what was happening.
"Holy shit." Soap gasped next to Ghost.
The enemy didn't recover fast enough to save himself. She pulled her hand back, the knife staying with it. Now unarmed, and no longer a big threat, she maneuvered her body to kick out his legs.
He landed hard on his face, his nose breaking with a sickening crack. She laughed as he tried to get up, blood covering his face. She brought the hand with the knife still in it up and to his neck. The blade plunged deep inside his jugular.
He gasped for air and choked on the blood. She pulled the knife out of his neck and watched him struggle to stay alive. He would die a slow and painful death.
Ghost and Soap finally snapped out of it and ran up to her. Soap shot a couple of enemies that had arrived at the scene as well while Ghost checked her injuries.
"Fuckin' hell." He muttered. She laughed, it quickly turned into a cough.
"This might be it, LT." She slurred. "Might have taken it too far this time."
"Shut up. You're going to be fine." He snapped at her.
Her breathing was starting to sound wheezy, which was concerning. But she couldn't go out like this. She was too tough.
He had watched her rise out of the ashes of a building exploding. She was like a hunter that couldn't be seen. Using stealth her enemies couldn't defend against. When she ran dry of ammunition, she used her blades. And when the blades ran dull, she used her hands. She would leave one enemy to survive so that he would go back and express warnings to others.
She was menacing, unbeatable, and ruthless.
She couldn't die like this.
"It's cold." She wheezed out. "Ghost, the world is goin' dark."
He had never heard her voice so shaky. "You'll be just fine. I got you."
"I lied to you."
"What?" He asked, doing his best to patch up her injuries. Whatever had happened to her abdomen was much deeper, much worse than he expected.
"I'm not a machine." She admitted. "I'm fucking terrified every mission. I hate it when you yell at me. I'm sorry. I-"
"You're okay. Focus on your breathing. I know you're not a machine. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm the one who needs to be sorry." Ghost tried to reassure her. He could faintly hear Soap talking over the radio. He was shouting that they needed medical and exfil immediately.
"We're gonna get out of this and get you to a doctor. You're going to be just fine and you're gonna be back to normal in no time." Ghost kept repeating. He didn't know what else to say. He wondered if she would be kinder if the roles were reversed.
"It's cold." She whispered. Her eyes closed slowly as she lost consciousness. He was panicking. He shouted her name, trying to wake her up but she was out.
"Ghost! Exfil's up the hill!" Soap shouted at him.
Ghost glanced to the hill to see the truck rumbling. He wasn't going to wait for them to get down here. He was quicker anyway. He lifted her arm, slinging it around his neck. Soap helped her stand and get her on Ghost's back. When she felt stable, and secure in his hold, he took off running.
His heart didn't stop pounding with worry the entire ride back from the mission.
—
Ghost knocked softly on the infirmary door before entering. He moved slowly to not startle her. His jaw tightened as he watched her. She was zoned out, the world silent as she stared at the wall in front of her.
"(Y/n)?" He asked softly. She blinked and turned to look at him, her senses coming back to her.
"Ghost." She whispered. She took a deep breath. "Thank you."
"What?"
"You saved my life. Thank you." She repeated.
"I didn't do anything. Just carried you to the truck." He told her.
"No. You did more than that."
"How so?"
"You-" She trailed off. "You cared."
"You would have done the same." He stated. She opened her mouth, most likely to disagree but he stopped her. "You aren't a machine. I shouldn't have called you that. I let my anger get the best of me and that wasn't fair to you."
"Ghost-" Her eyes were getting heavier, the drugs kicking in once more.
"Simon. Call me Simon."
"Simon." In her sleepy state, she let the name fall from her lips, testing it out. Her eyes slowly closed and her breathing was evening out.
"Just, rest." He told her. "I'll be right here."
He took the chance and reached out to hold her hand. He expected her to already be asleep, but he couldn't help the smile that grew on his face when she softly squeezed his hand back.