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the-whispers-of-death · 10 months ago

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Save Me From Myself (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male COD OC "Stone" Summary: It was Christmas Eve, almost Christmas, and everyone in the Task Force 141 is home for the holidays. Everyone except two. One man who's rather guarded at first, and the other who's so guarded that he's hasn't been vulnerable in a... long time. They're now the only two on base during a month-long holiday break. Can Ghost change Stone's ways and make him see that he's worthy of care and love? Word Count: 1,453 words Content: Angst, so much angst, cursing, eventual mention of rape, mentions of child abuse and neglect, eventual mention of self-harm, ftm!OC, American!OC, Desi!OC, eventual mention of transphobia and homophobia, inaccurate military and medical speak/procedure. Author's Note: This is my first writing on here and it's not beta read so hopefully there's not too many mistakes or errors. This was originally going to an angsty-turned-fluffy one-shot, but then I really got into the groove and couldn't not make this into an entire fic. This features my COD OC Stone, who is a second-generation American with Indian heritage. Note that while I am a first-generation American with Indian heritage, my knowledge of the Indian culture is... lacking, to say the least, but Stone has more of the Indian culture embedded into his personality, so I'll be trying my best to represent it as best as possible. If I get anything wrong with the Desi culture, please (respectfully) tell me. Any (respectful) criticism of my work is deeply appreciated!

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The halls of the SAS base where the Task Force 141 were currently holed up due to them heading to the UK, so their soldiers could go home for the holidays, were empty. Silent.

Everyone in the base and the Task Force were gone, back home to their families. Except two.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley and a U.S. Fleet Marine Corpsman who was simply known as “Stone”.

Stone was on loan to the Task Force because a), the Task Force needed a medic, and b), the U.S. Navy wanted to demonstrate that their country was still good friends with the UK, so they lent one of their best Navy Corpsmen to the Task Force as a gesture of goodwill. He was an intimidating man to say the least; six feet and eight inches tall, more burly than muscular, his brown skin was marred head to toe in old battle scars, and he was cold and stoic. He roamed the halls silently, almost always only speaking when he was patching up a soldier and always he wore a muzzle-like mask due to his past of biting fellow soldiers.

To say he wasn’t making any friends in the Task Force was an understatement, but Captain John Price thought his skills in the battlefield and in the infirmary outweighed his lack of camaraderie.

Stone was currently sitting in his office in the infirmary, doing paperwork despite it being the 24th of December, Christmas Eve. Due to being in the U.S. Navy for fifteen years, he was at the rank of E-7, or Chief Hospital Corpsman, and despite the fact that he was an American in a British SAS base, he was the highest-ranking medic in the infirmary. So, there was a lot of paperwork for him to do and not even it being Christmas Eve would stop him from doing it.

“You don’t have any family to go home to, Doc?” Ghost asked, silently appearing in the doorway, his footsteps being so quiet. He peered into the office, his black balaclava and white skull mask covering his entire face and facial features save for his dark, molten brown eyes. He leaned against the frame of the doorway, his demeanor cool as always.

Stone looked up from his paperwork, not even visibly startled as his face underneath his muzzle-like mask remained impassive as always. “Was told by the SAS higher-ups I could fly home for the holidays, but I figured it was a waste of plane fuel,” he replied coldly, his voice devoid of so much emotion. His cold gaze pierced Ghost’s, his emotionless brown eyes having a staring contest with Ghost’s own brown eyes. “Not that I have family, anyways. Why aren’t you home for the holidays?”

He was curious, of course. Ghost was just like him: a mystery. And while the cold part of him that was so detached from others that he couldn’t motivate himself to make friends told him not to ask, not to get close, he just couldn’t help himself. He saw a kindred spirit in the SAS lieutenant, and the part of him that was lonely, so lonely, hoped this deployment would be the chance for him to finally have a family. After all, the Task Force loved like a family, fought like a family, protected each other like a family.

And damn him and his weak heart for craving that.

Ghost was still leaning against the door frame and he crossed his arms as he registered the question, Stone’s cold gaze hungrily taking in the way the Lieutenant’s muscles flexed with the movement. “I don’t have family either. Not anymore, anyways,” he answered gruffly after a few minutes of thinking exactly what to say. “141's the only family I got now, but I wasn’t going to intrude on their time with their families. I get them for most of the year, time for their families to have them.”

Stone wanted to ask why Ghost no longer had any biological family, what happened to them, but he held back. Not only was it rather rude for him to keep pressing for answers when clearly Ghost didn’t want to talk about it, it was…too personal. He had to remember that he shouldn’t make friends, shouldn’t make connections.

You can’t trust anyone, Beta. Not fellow soldiers, not friends. Not even family. Not even me. Close your heart, Beta. Seal your emotions, lest you be weak.

He almost had a visible reaction to his father’s cold and harsh words slicing through his thoughts, but he managed to reign in the flinch and wince. Managed to hide the searing throb that came with the words.

Seal your emotions, seal your emotions, he repeated that mantra several times in his head, forcing himself to remain cold and stoic.

“Why did you come here?” His words sounded even harsher than usual, internally agitated. It was hard maintaining the demeanor his father beat into him when he was alone, but it was even harder with someone else in the room. With Ghost in the room. “Get out. Can’t you see I’m working?”

Ghost’s brown eyes flashed with anger, his jaw clenching tight as his hands furled into fists. He walked into the office, no longer lingering in the doorway, like he was about to give Stone a piece of his mind. But then he took a deep breath and returned to being just as impassive—if not more now that Stone was agitated on the inside—as Stone.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out in the recreational room with me, since we’re both the only soldiers on base. The only ones without families to go home to. But I can see that line of thinking was a mistake, coming here was a mistake.” He paused, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes narrowed at Stone. “I pity you, you know? You’re alone. At least I have friends.”

Stone stood up at that, so quickly that a normal person would’ve gotten whiplash. He got out from behind his desk, stalking towards Ghost and towering over him like he did with everybody. He leaned down, his masked face inches away from Ghost’s as his cold brown eyes glared into Ghost’s warmer brown eyes.

“I don’t need friends. I don’t need anyone. I’m not weak like you,” he spat out, internally willing himself to remain cold.

This was a mistake, he thought to himself bitterly. It was a mistake to even entertain the notion of making friends.

Ghost scoffed, looking up at Stone and not even flinching at how tall the Fleet Marine Corpsman was. “If that’s how you feel, fine. Far be it from me to try and change your mind. Merry Christmas, Stone,” he said, glancing at the digital clock behind Stone that now shined a bright twelve o’clock at night.

He then turned on his heel, not even sparing Stone a second glass as he left the office.

Stone was internally seething, trying everything he can to remain cold and stoic. He wasn’t sure if he was mad at himself or at Ghost, or both. He was just mad, so he made quick strides to the door of the office and slammed it shut to deter anyone else from disturbing him, although only him and Ghost were on base.

The silence was deafening, only sounds being his breathing and his pounding heartbeat in his chest. The anger was a bitter reminder that he was no longer the perfect soldier his father trained him to be. That he was getting weak, the years of being away from his father’s influence clearly having deteriorated all the hard work that had been done.

“Stop it, stop being so weak,” he murmured to himself, his large hands reaching up to grab at his black short hair. He stumbled back towards his desk, to try and work on his paperwork again. “Seal your emotions, close your heart. Can’t trust anyone, have to be the perfect soldier. The perfect weapon Baba made you to be.”

He sank his broken and scarred form into the chair at his desk, it creaking a lot as always because he was heavier than most soldiers. He took several deep breaths before finally releasing the hair in his hands.

Stone didn’t go back to work for a while, no, he sat in his desk chair and remembered all of the memories of his childhood. Remembered the fear, the feeling of being unsafe, of being unloved by the only family he had at the time. And he remembered it all until he got a grip on himself, until he went back to being devoid from emotions.

Just like how Baba taught him.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

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