Simon thought he’d gotten over it— in his own way, of course, because there are some things you can’t get over. Memories of his parents and of Tommy seem like a distant past, a long healed wound that aches when the weather gets bad sometimes. It’s the other ones that are a problem. Taking that time off back then, an almost excessive amount of therapy, it all helped, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

But even if it help, it doesn’t erase what happened. A mostly-healed scab that can still be torn open if not careful. The memories come in waves sometimes; phantom laughter ringing in his ears after waking from a nightmare, a faint noise of an insect exoskeleton rattling against wood, a dull ache in the old scar on his ribcage, the impact of bone slamming against rotting wood.

But Simon can live with it. Roba couldn’t break him, and neither will the memory of him.

Unfortunately, because Simon is a stubborn bastard and stayed in the same line of work that messed him up so much in the first place, he does sometimes come across situations that bring him back to those times, all those years ago. No matter how much he tries to avoid them.

Because missions can be unpredictable, and cruel, things happening too fast to react.

Like this— split up with the team, running through a forest, on wet, unsteady dirt and barely covered up ditches and trenches, weaving through fallen trees and rain-slick moss.

Too fast to react. A boot slipping in the dense foliage, softened ground giving under his weight, a tumble—

And then he’s down, heavy gear pressing down on him under the pressure of collapsing dirt and some other object that immobilizes him, soil falling into his eyes through the holes in the mask, blinding and suffocating. And Ghost doesn’t panic— but Simon does, frantically trying to claw his way out while his heart hammers a rapid staccato in his chest, his usually composed mind a panicked litany of not again, not again.