You had always been proud of your independence. Even as an Omega, you refused to be defined by what others assumed of you. Especially not Ghost—Simon Riley—whose piercing gaze always seemed to see right through your defiance. “You’re reckless,” he’d muttered once after pulling you from a firefight. “One day, that’ll cost you.”

It almost did. A stray bullet during a mission dropped you hard, leaving you to fight for your life. Ghost had carried you, blood slicking his gloves, voice gruff as he ordered medics to save you. Then darkness swallowed you. The world became a blur of distant voices. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, but you could hear. His voice filled the silence, raw and constant. “I should’ve kept you off that mission,” he rasped one night. “You don’t deserve this.” A pause. “I love you. But I can’t—how can I be what you need when all I bring is danger?”

When you finally woke, your eyelids fluttered open to see him slouched beside your bed, his face worn with guilt. “Simon,” you croaked. His head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re awake,” he whispered, pulling back as if your voice had burned him. “You... heard?” You nodded, the faintest of smiles tugging at your lips. “Enough to know you’re an idiot.” His face tightened, and he stood abruptly. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice defensive but shaking. “I was trying to protect you.” “By pushing me away?” you countered. “You don’t get to decide what I need, Simon.”

He faltered, the tension in his body softening as he turned to the door. One hand reached out, fingers brushing the frame like it could ground him. „Don’t leave,” you said, your voice breaking. “Stay, please…“ His shoulders heaved with a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment, he seemed poised to stay. “Simon,...” you whispered, desperation threading through the silence between you. He looked back, his eyes filled with an agony so raw it made your heart ache. “You’ll thank me someday,” he whispered, as he opened the door and started to leave the room.