Chapter Text
December 4th, present day
Your hands shake as you stare out into the dark field below you. The compound is quiet this time of night. Snow falls and clings to your hair, numbing your exposed shoulders. The grey tank top you're wearing does nothing to help against the cold, although you can't say you feel it anymore. You're wearing army issued grey shorts, your legs littered with goosebumps from the chill. Bare feet burn from the snow under them, and you've lost feeling in your toes.
The tip of your nose is raw, tinged red. Hot puffs of air blow from your mouth with every breath you take. The cool metal of the gun presses against the side of your thigh, the only solace you've been able to find the past twenty minutes. The balcony is covered with pretty white snow, and with the right trajectory, it'll be painted red very soon.
You exhale shakily, willing yourself to be brave, and click the safety off. Your eyes close and you take deep breaths in through your nose. It'll be okay. It'll be okay.
Four months ago, Russia
You’re shoved onto the ground, and your pants are yanked down. The rest of the 141 are bound in chairs in front of you, forced to watch. Gaz has his eyes shut and he is breathing heavily. Soap is screaming at your captors, and Price is trying to calm him down. Ghost is silent, unrelenting. Unwilling to betray a hint of emotion.
”Get the fuck off of me!” You screech and kick your legs out as best you can. “Stop stop stop!”
You’re sobbing, but it’s not like the man on top of you cares. “Quit movin’ little fuckin whore.”
In a desperate attempt you rear your head back and slam it into his face. Your bound arms behind you strain against the cuffs they put you in.
”You Fucking bitch!” He snarls, and pistol whips the side of your temple. Hard.
You fall back to the ground and groan, your vision going spotty. You’re flipped over with your ass bared to everyone in the room. Humiliation burns your face, and you wish the floor would swallow you whole.
You feel him force his way inside you and it snaps you out of your daze. You flail your body every way possible and scream at the top of your lungs as he thrusts.
Before long, he’s finishing on your ass and leaves you to sob quietly, curling up into a ball on the floor. You can’t bring yourself to look at your team. Because you were a woman, your weakness was shown.
You stare at someone’s boots, trying to place yourself somewhere far from here. Everything is muffled, but there is a distinct ringing you can’t pinpoint. Someone crouches down in front of you, petting your hair.
Your eyes flick to them as they speak to you.
”Don’t worry my dear. We are just getting started.” He laughs something awful, and rises.
”Take these three to a separate room…this one stays.” You hear him say. You don’t bother to look, knowing it’s Ghost.
Your eyes follow the boots that stop in front of him. The man leans down to eye level with Ghost, yanking his collar forward.
”Your friends were very emotional just now. I bet they’d be willing to give any information to save your little bunny here. But you…you haven’t even blinked. I will break you…” He says dangerously, and turns back to look at you.
”One way or another.” He smiles, his crooked teeth protruding out. Your lips tremble in fear and you’re yanked up from behind from one of the accomplices.
Present day
You hear the sliding door open behind you, and you freeze. Eyes snapping open, you stare into the field and say nothing. Whoever is standing behind you hasn't said a word, taking in the scene in front of them. Your heart races and your fingers tighten their grip around the gun.
"A bit cold, innit?" You hear a soft voice that you recognize, sounding behind you. He shuts the door quietly but makes no move to approach you. You say nothing, as the tears slide down your face. Why was he awake? You didn't want any of your team to see you like this. You won't look back, you won't look back-
"Look at me love." He calls. You grit your teeth and turn your head slightly, catching sight of him. His eyes flick to the gun, then back to your face.
"It's late. Would you like to join me for a cuppa?" He offers, taking a tiny step towards you.
"Ghost, don't." You choke out hoarsely, body tensing. He freezes his steps and shoves his hands into his pockets. He's never cared too much before, he's never been this sweet. You've never heard this tone of voice from him, ever, in your time with the 141.
"Alright, talk to me then. Tell me why your standing out here in the freezing cold with a gun in your hand?" He is blunt, gets straight to the point like always.
"I was just..." You trail off, trying to come up with an excuse. Shame burns your face, as you stare at him in silence, unable to provide an answer.
He moves towards you again, slow and purposeful. Your breathing becomes labored, heart beating like a rabbit.
"I know. I've been there." He tells you truthfully. You look at him with shock. He chuckles at this, eyes crinkling under the plain black balaclava.
"I know, shocking innit? Held it in my mouth and everything." He continues talking while his hands come up, slowly as if not to startle you.
"Why?" You ask as he gets closer, curious to know how a big dangerous man such as himself has ever stopped that low.
"The same reason you are." He towers over you, and his fingers slip over yours. You let him. He carefully takes the gun away and checks the chamber, seeing one bullet.
He unloads it and shoves it into the pocket of his sweatpants, clicking the safety back on. You expect him to laugh at you, to restrain you, to run and tell Price you need to go to the looney bin. He doesn't.
"C'mon love, let's get you inside yeah?" He interlaces your numb fingers with his, and leads you back inside. You sob quietly with a hand over your mouth, and trail behind him. You can't believe you let him see you like this. You're weak. You should be ashamed.
Ghost has never touched you like this before, never shown the slightest bit of emotion. You suppose it's because he just witnessed you trying to kill yourself but even so, it's unlike him.
Inside the dim common room, he keeps you beside him as he makes tea. A blanket from the couch is huddled around your shoulders, and you clutch it tightly to will away the cold. You watch him as he works silently, not bothering to say much else.
Once the tea is made, he leads you to his room and ushers you inside with a gentle nudge. He makes you sit on the bed and drink your tea, even though you can't taste it. It's warm though, and you swallow mouthfuls to warm your insides.
He sits in the desk chair, pulling it up to face you. He watches you and says nothing, waiting for you to engage first.
"Don't tell Price, or anyone for that matter." You swallow thickly, willing yourself not to start crying again.
"I won't, if you promise you'll never pull that shit again." He responds in a serious manner. You nod your head, and your eyes fall to the floor. He must be so disappointed in you. You were no longer the strong soldier he trained you to be, only the shell remained.
"If you ever think you want to do something like that, you come to me." He leans into your space, trying to catch your eyes.
"Do you understand?" He asks in a softer tone.
"I understand Ghost." You parrot back dryly.
He studies you for a moment, and leans back into his chair. "It's Simon."
You look up at him and your brow furrows.
"My name, it's Simon." He clarifies, and takes a sip from his mug. Through the lamp light, you can make out the underside of his face. His jawline is sharpened by the shadows. He wants you to use his name. Why?
"Simon." You try, nodding to yourself. A nice name.
His eyes snap to yours as the syllables leave your mouth, and swallows, lowering his mug. He licks his lips, and they shine from the wetness. He nods in acknowledgement.
"I just...can't get it out of my head." Your eyes lower to his boots, voice dropping an octave. You take a few moments to breathe.
"I see them when I close my eyes Simon, I can...I can feel them." Your voice wavers, and your lips twist in a snarl. You're there again, watching them do those things to you from above. You shut your eyes and curls your fists. You breathe out shakily, and you feel him take the mug from your hands. The liquid has spilled onto your hand from how much you're shaking.
You open your eyes to see him standing, placing your mug on your desk. He lifts his shirt up and grabs your hand, placing it over a jagged scar. It's deep, and you can feel the divot that was made from it. Your eyes widen in shock and they snap to his in a silent question, but he's not looking at you. He's looking down at where he's rubbing your cold fingertips over the scar.
"They hung me from my ribs. On a hook." He mutters, face pinched. You throw your other hand over your mouth in horror, trying to will the image away.
"It was painful, very painful." He looks at you and stops his ministrations, opting to hold your palm flat against his ribs. His skin feels like it's on fire.
"Sometimes I still get phantom pains." He drops your hand from his chest but hangs onto it, crouching down to look up at you. His shirt falls back down his torso.
"W-who did that to you?" You whisper painfully, eyes searching his.
"Doesn't matter. They're gone now." He answers, shrugging it off. You continue to stare at him, silently begging for answers.
"I killed them." He tells you. "I killed them all."
You say nothing more, and he lets go of your hand, straightening out.
He walks away towards the door as you study the floor, where he previously sat. You hear the lock click, and perk up.
"I'd like you to stay in here tonight." He says firmly, stopping your open mouthed protest. He says it with such finality, as if there won't be a negotiation. There isn't, because you don't fight it.
You sigh tiredly, and scoot back to bundle yourself under the covers. He sits in the chair again facing you, and takes ahold of his mug again. His expression invites you to talk a bit more, so you do.
"It's not just the torture, it's the...the..." You will yourself the say it out loud, but he does it for you.
"The rape." He states calmly. It's not a question, he already knows. You nod and curl into yourself, trying not to think about it.
"I'm gonna tell you something about me that you probably don't know." He sets the mug down and leans in again.
"Those same people I was just telling you about? They raped me too." He says it quietly, like it's the first time he'd ever admitted it.
"What?" You shoot up from your spot and stare at him, baffled. He says nothing and stares off to the side, and even in the low light, you can see his face burning in shame too.
"M-man or woman?" You ask hesitantly, not sure if he'd be willing to share more.
"Both." His dark eyes flick back to yours, and burn with such intensity. He’s looking to see if you’re going to judge him. You won’t.
You aren't sure what to do. You want to hug him, you want to cry. You want to tell him that he didn't deserve it and that you're sorry it happened to him, but you can’t speak.
You understood now why he was being so lenient with your behavior. Why he was being so gentle. Why he wants you to come talk to him. He's been through the same thing.
He wants you to know you aren't alone, and you could come to him if needed.
Something you couldn't expect Johnny to get. Gaz wouldn’t be able to sympathize, and Price wouldn't know what to say. They don’t like talking about what happened either, wishing to never relive it.
The only person who would get it, really get it, is Simon.
Because he's lived it.