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Even after being discharged, Ghost’s body yearned to have something to stress over. His mind would conjure up the most terrible images in the dead of night, waking him up in a cold sweat, choking on his own tears.
He was aware of everything, his mind picking up every single noise, every little thing to be nervous about. He was running out of excusable reasons to be anxious.
Sure, on the field it made sense. Anxiety was meant to keep you alive, to act as a sixth sense. Anxiety brought Ghost far, kept him alive. But once he stopped going on missions, his typical field anxiety had nowhere to go. He became anxious about small things, loud noises, big crowds, stoves left on, holidays. Worst of all, he feared losing his loved ones.
He constantly felt tense, he was always picking at his skin or his lips. He picked at his nails, bounced his leg, rubbed his skin against something soothing, but mostly, he needed to move. It was the closest thing to running on a mission, running on a trail.
During times when he couldn’t run, when the stress would manifest as terrible dreams, Soap was there. Soap was there to hold him and to soothe him, to let him rub his fingers against his shirt or his skin to soothe his mind.
Until it was winter, and Christmas had just floated by, and Ghost felt the routine anxiety. The terrible pictures in his mind, he needed to get out.
“Where’ya going?” Soap asked, yawning.
“For a run.” Ghost grunted, lacing his shoes.
“Make sure to stretch. It’s cold. You don’t want to injure yourself.” Soap reminded, sending him off with a small kiss. Ghost hummed something, not listening.
He ran as soon as he got outside, not bothering to stretch.
He wasn’t a kid anymore, that much was clear. He didn’t have the same joints or ligaments that he once did, and it was a hard pill to swallow. He needed his body to survive the test of time.
He didn’t even need to think about it, that is, until he was about halfway through the trail. His foot caught a root, and he flew forward, rolling in the mud. A sharp pain erupted from his ankle, and Ghost sat up, wincing. Using the same tree that had tripped him, he stood.
He was about half way out, too far to walk back, he might as well continue. After a long rest, he began running again, his ankle groaning under his weight.
As he saw the parking lot, he fell again. His right ankle had buckled under him, a disgusting feeling in the joint. He tried standing, groaning in pain.
He wasn’t on the field. He needed to call Johnny.
As much as he wanted to be fine and run back, he couldn’t. His ankle could hardly support his weight. He’d survived worse, but he didn’t have the benefit of red-hot adrenaline pumping through his system.
“Johnny?” He held the phone up to his ear.
“What’s going on, Simon?” Ghost rarely called while on a run. He could hear the worry in Soap’s voice.
“Did something to my ankle. I’m at the trailhead.” He said gruffly. The ask was silent, but there. Please help me. Please pick me up.
“On my way.” He said, and the jingle of keys could be heard as Soap got into the car. In the meantime, Ghost dragged himself onto a bench to rest. He felt embarrassed, hot shame burning in his chest.
It took a few minutes for Soap to arrive, the trailhead was a bit of a ways from their small house. It was a run-down trail, a loop that crossed a river twice. It was lovely in the summer, he and Soap would eat lunch under tall trees and put their feet in the cold water. In autumn it was lovely, bright colors surrounding. In the spring it was positively blooming with flowers. Ghost wasn’t as big a fan of winter, but it was nice. It was still around the suburbs, and there was a small park nearby with giggling kids who liked to play in the trees and water.
Ghost was torn out of his thoughts when he saw Soap.
“You must be freezing, come here.” He said, pulling him up and letting Ghost use him as a crutch to the door.
“So… what happened…?” He asked, sitting into the drivers side.
“Turned it wrong. Just needs a bit of ice at home.” Ghost said simply. Soap felt uneasy. If Ghost needed to call him, then his ankle was a lot worse than just turned wrong.
Soap had only recently been cleared to drive. After the gunshot, he had big troubles with depth perception. He struggled with stairs for a long time, always had his hands in front of him. Ghost helped him work through it, and was there to catch him if he undershot a distance, and would close the gap between their lips if Soap was having trouble reaching his face.
It only ever bothered him with small things anymore, and while he didn’t like to drive often, he needed to for Ghost.
At home, he brought Ghost inside and into the restroom.
“You’re all muddy, think you can handle a shower?” He offered. Ghost nodded, but the walk over proved to be difficult. He’d felt this pain before, but never so severe.
“Sit down.” Soap instructed quietly. “When you’re in the shower. Don’t put weight on it.” Simon nodded, stripping when Soap left. He wobbled over to the shower, turning it on and sitting down.
He washed all the mud off, pressing on his ankle as if he could fix it.
Through his efforts, he probably worsened it.
When he was finished, he struggled back to the living room, where Soap had set up a spot on the couch for him to rest.
“Love, you should have called me.” Soap chided, helping him to the couch. He propped his foot up on the pillows Soap had set up for him, watching as Soap grabbed an ice pack. He inspected it for a minute, watching the swelling and bruising.
“I’m making an appointment.” Soap announced.
“Johnny-“ Ghost began to protest, but was interrupted by the pain of Soap pressing gently on his ankle. He immediately recoiled, looking at Ghost’s face in guilt.
“Sorry-“ He began to apologize, but Ghost stopped him.
“I worsened it already. I poked and prodded it during my shower.” He admitted.
“Simon..” the other man said gently, cupping his cheek. “You need to take care of yourself better than that.” Ghost hummed, leaning into the soft touch. Soap kissed his forehead, then placed the ice pack on his ankle and then went to schedule an appointment, leaving Ghost with the ice pack on the couch.
He heard Soap humming gently as he scheduled the appointment, and place his phone down. “5:00.” He said, walking over, handing him a cup of tea.
“Thank you.” Ghost mumbled gently.
Soap sat beside him, pulling his hand into his lap and pressing kisses to his knuckles. “How does it feel?”
“Sort of numb. The ice helps.” He said, resting against Soap. Soap wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
…
He didn’t know when he’d nodded off, but he woke to Soap’s voice. He awoke with a jolt, sending a wave of pain through his ankle as he flexed it quickly.
“It’s okay, Simon.” Soap hummed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re alright.”
It was only a few hours before they had to get up for his appointment. Ghost needed help walking, his ankle had swollen dramatically, bruising along the ankle. He looked out the window, holding Soap’s hand as he did.
At the urgent care, they walked in and waited. Soap checked in while Ghost picked at his nails, nervously.
Soap returned, taking his hand into his own before Ghost could make it bleed. Ghost immediately began to bite his lips.
Once being called back, Soap helped him up and behind the door. “Sir, you can’t-“ the nurse began, cut off as Soap held up his hand, showcasing the silver ring.
“I see, come in, then.” The nurse mumbled.
He asked Ghost a few questions, before sending him to be X-rayed. Ghost grumbled about it, but complied. After X-rays, they were back in the urgent care office, waiting. They waited and waited for a long time, the room quieter than either of them were comfortable with. Ghost bounced his uninjured leg anxiously.
Soap took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
After Ghost counted 27 minutes on the clock, a loud knock came to the door before it swung open, the doctor entering. Once again, Ghost was asked about his symptoms, then poked, prodded, bent, and moved.
“Looks like a pretty intense sprain. There’s no fractures, no apparent dislocation.” He explained. “It’s when your ligament-“
“I know what happens.” Ghost interrupted, realizing how rude it was. “What do I need to do?”
“You need to stay off of it. Ice it often, never directly on the skin. Make sure to elevate it and take ibuprofen as needed. Listen to your body, don’t push it. You’re going to have to rest a lot. I’ll put in a ticket for the physical therapist for you. They’ll help you out with strengthening that muscle back up to avoid further injury. It does take longer to heal than a fracture.” The doctor explained. Ghost could hear blood pounding in his ears. He hoped Soap was listening better than he was.
“You’ll need to take it easy for a while. Do not exercise it past some gentle stretching.” The doctor instructed.
“How long before I can work out?” Ghost asked softly.
“It’s gonna be a couple weeks.” He said, shrugging. “I’ll have the nurse grab you a brace.” He said, and left.
The silence was thick, charged with everything that needed to be discussed.
“Simon-“
“Not now, Johnny.” He said, trying to sound gruff, but instead just sounding small and pathetic. The nurse soon entered and showed him how to strap the brace, then gave him a packet and sent him on his way.
“I need to get gas.” Soap commented in the car. “And get some stuff for dinner.” Ghost didn’t reply. Soap got gas and walked into the store, leaving Ghost to wait by himself.
Ghost picked his skin until it bled, glaring at the brace through hot tears.
The door opened and shut, and suddenly, there was something in his lap, and Soap was looking at him.
In his lap was his favorite candy.
“Johnny-“ he said, his voice weaker than he wanted it to sound.
“I know.” He said, pulling Simon close. His anxiety felt… quiet. He had gone on the run to stop the anxiety, and it had been rampaging since his injury.
“You’ll have plenty of time to spend with me, at least. That’s not too bad.” Soap teased. Ghost wanted to poke something back, to lightheartedly tease him. He just nodded into his shoulder.
…
Soap took care of him at home, getting ice for his foot and running a hot bath for him. He helped Simon to their bathroom and helped him take his brace off. He sat into the hot water, relaxing.
Soap stroked his hair gently, pressing soft kisses to his forehead.
“I don’t understand…” Ghost said, picking at his nails. “I used to be able to get shot and be fine. Now I twist my ankle and can’t do anything??”
“Maybe…” Soap began. “Maybe it’s nice that such a simple thing is a big deal now. I mean, we don’t really have to worry about bleeding out or… all of that. It’s nice that this is a big deal.” Soap was right. It was a privilege to be able to rest after his injury, to be able to pay so much attention to one little injury.
“You’re right.” Ghost hummed. He had gone through terrible things, they both had. It was a privilege to be able to worry over a sprained ankle.
Soap pressed a small kiss to his lips.
After his bath, he was anxious again, fidgeting. He was fidgety through dinner and watching their show, getting ready for bed, too.
But in bed, there was Soap.
Soap, who could quiet his thoughts by simply wrapping his arms around him. Soap, who made him relax with small kisses and gentle words.
Soap, who was there through everything.