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Ghost could not fall asleep.
He hadn’t really tried, ignoring the weight tugging his eyelids down in favor of wedging himself into his closet. He hadn’t done it since he was a small child, but he felt like one now, making himself as small as possible as he clutched a pillow to his chest and backed himself so far into the tiny space that the door was mostly closed. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, actually, having no impetus like he had years ago. He’d laid in his bunk, and a wave of something had crashed over him, burning sensation at the back of his eyes as his breath had caught in his throat. He’d torn off his mask. He had stumbled out of bed with a rush of fear to his head. And now he was here. He let out a sound of defeat as he wrapped himself around his pillow, hips and shoulders aching uncomfortably in protest at being forced into such a restrictive space.
Ghost didn’t like it. He didn’t want to be military man big right now, felt impossibly small as his breath came in short gasps. He could feel the space closing in on him- he didn’t know why he’d chosen this, some half assed memory from childhood fucking him over as he tasted dirt in his mouth again. His head was pounding, he couldn’t focus on anything, sobs silent as always from a lifetime of hiding. He didn’t know how long it had passed when a knock came at his door. He barely registered it, mostly just flinching back as he clutched the pillow to his chest, sound echoing around his head like a shot.
He briefly heard a muffled swear, the squeak of a door opening, and slammed his eyes shut. The sound of footsteps came closer and Simon Riley tensed up as the closet door was opened. A soft gasp. Ghost could feel the eyes on him and his breathing stuck in his throat again, shaking apart as he buried his face in his pillow, too out of it to even try to be worried that somebody was seeing him like this.
“Hey…” A concerned voice filtered through his sluggish mind. “C’mon, LT, I need you t' breathe with me.” Ghost shook his head stubbornly as he fell apart on the floor of a tiny closet.
“Okay. Okay. Look at me, hmm?” The familiar voice coaxed, suddenly very gentle. “Just open yer eyes. Want ye to see that it’s safe.” Ghost exhaled shakily, inhaling too fast afterwards and choking slightly. His eyes opened, and he stared up at the creased face of John Mactavish. He whined, low in his throat, the world moving like molasses around him.
“Yer safe, Ghost,” Soap said quietly, looking back at the broken man with impossibly soft eyes. “We’re in your room at base, yeah? Just us here. Got no reason to worry.”
Ghost blinked up at the man crouching in front of him and his mind struggled to form a coherent thought. He was torn between the gross burning feeling throughout his whole body that meant panic and bad and unsafe, and wanting to fall forward into Johnny’s arms. His body shook with the force of his hyperventilating and his knuckles were white as he gripped the pillow to his chest still. Soap reached out, hand hovering hesitantly over Ghost’s shoulder before he firmly set it down and looked back into Ghost’s eyes.
“Breathe with me, LT.” He said, taking an exaggeratedly deep inhale. Ghost fought to follow, but he tried. He tried, and Soap patiently stuck with him, until he was breathing only shakily instead of so rapidly it was concerning.
“Good,” Soap soothed as he watched Ghost’s eyes snap in and out of focus as he tried to keep himself a bit more grounded. “Thank you. Yer doing good.” He hesitated, thought for a moment. He didn’t want to pry, just wanted Ghost to get whatever comfort he might need first.
“Do you want t' talk?” Soap asked softly. “Or… want a hug? Anything, Simon. No shame here, promise.”
Ghost blinked up again at Soap, and his shoulders jumped as a short sob left him. It was all he’d ever thought about when he was younger. When he’d gotten older, been alone, been forced through hell and hell again. Somebody. Anybody who didn’t ask patronizing questions and just was… there.
“Help me, Johnny,” he managed to say, voice hoarse and small in a way Soap had never heard. It scared him- this whole situation did, a bit, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try his best to help.
“Course, LT.” Soap easily said, and lightly moved Ghost so the man wasn’t squeezed into his closet, instead replacing the simultaneously comforting and restricting weight with his own arms. Ghost froze for a moment, tremor running down his body, and then he collapsed into Soap’s embrace, pillow falling to the floor as his hands reached up to tightly grip Soap's back. Any trace remains of dirt, or blood, or screaming echoing in his ears faded away as he buried his face in the crook of his Sergeant’s shoulder.
“Just breathe,” Soap soothed. “I’ve got ye, okay? You can let go now. Let me take care of things.” Ghost’s chest heaved as he choked on sobs, falling apart in a way that he hadn’t let himself in years. Fuck. It had been so long since he’d let somebody offer to take care of him. It had been so long since he’d let them. Soap shushed him and soothed him with soft words and gentle pressure of his hug. Ghost felt like a little boy, crying over his father in his mothers arms again. Cried in Soap’s arms like he’d wanted to fall into somebody’s after Roba, but couldn’t ever bring himself to even as a one-off, touch crawling over his skin for months if not years after those weeks. Sometimes it still did. Ghost’s body ached, his panic having exerted himself so that his old scars protested and his insides felt like roiling lava.
“‘m scared,” he choked out. His filter, any sense of reputation and regulation and control, gone as Ghost felt his mind slip into something less coherent.
“Scared o’ what, Simon?” Soap asked gently. He looked so strong, cradling Ghost to his chest, but his own vision was blurring as he fought against his own emotions at the scene in front of him.
“Don’ want it.” Simon said in a tiny voice. “Leave me alone.” Soap furrowed his brow, rubbing over Ghost’s back to soothe him, keep him present while he tried to assess the situation.
“Not gonna hurt you. But I’m not gonna leave you alone, LT.” He promised. He used a gentle hand to coax Ghost’s face up so their gazes met. “Just me here. Just Soap. Johnny. And you, yeah? Simon Riley.” Ghost whimpered, a noise Soap had never heard from him before. It frightened him- he didn’t know how to bring his Lieutenant- his friend, his more than a friend- out of the state he was in. So as Soap kept Ghost in his lap, trying desperately to keep the man calming down instead of continuing to lose himself, he fished his phone out and held it over Ghost’s back to send a quick text out. It only took a handful of minutes before the door to Ghost’s quarters swung open again, and another worried gasp sounded.
“Okay.” Captain John Price knelt down next to the pair and exhaled slowly. He’d seen Ghost like this only a few times. Each time there had been different things that had worked. And sometimes things hadn’t worked at all. He let Soap adjust the man in his lap so he was still cradled but couldn’t bury his face back again. Ghost looked up at Price blearily, confusion written across his features.
“Hi, Simon,” Price murmured. He thought he recognized the look in Ghost’s eyes, paired with the fact that they were next to the closet and that Ghost had made no effort to try to suppress himself. So he took a shot- recognizing it as something he’d seen in Gaz, and as something Ghost had taken an interest in. Hidden, of course, but Price knew him well enough to read his minute mannerisms.
“Everything a bit much right now, bud?” Price asked as he looked down at Ghost. Ghost nodded once, grip tightening around Soap.
“Can’t think right.” He admitted, shivering through a sob. “Don’t like it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. D’you think you can let us help you get a bit more comfortable, at least?” Price asked softly. Ghost hesitated, tremors still wracking through his body, but he slowly nodded. Soap and Price murmured praise as they slowly maneuvered them to Ghost’s bunk, Soap leaning against the headboard and holding Ghost to his chest again as Price knelt by the side of the bed.
“And think you can let go for us a bit more, hmm?” Price asked, gently carding through Ghost’s hair. “You’re safe. Just let yourself go, lad, we’ve got you. Gonna keep you safe.” Ghost just looked over at Price, all of his tiny movements and noises and demeanor at such odds to his hulking frame.
“Not ‘llowed.” He said. He’d calmed down somewhat, but not enough to think of being embarrassed or quite aware of how he was acting. He sounded childish, almost, eyes frightened and somewhere else.
“You’re not wherever your heads put you, Si,” Soap interjected. “You can do whatever you want, okay? We’ve got you. Nothings gonna hurt you right now.” It took a moment and a few more reassurances, but Ghost blinked hard and nodded. He shuddered, curling himself around Soap like he’d done with the pillow earlier.
“Too much,” he admitted hoarsely. Price’s hand tightened in his hair for a moment.
“Everything is?” He asked softly. Ghost nodded jerkily. Panic still coursed fully through him, but he did, against his body’s better judgment, feel safe. So he took a leap of faith.
“‘s all too big.” He said in a near-whisper. He shut his eyes, like he was waiting for something bad. Instead Price just trailed his hand down to stroke over Ghost’s face softly.
“Yeah. You’re missin’ being smaller, huh?” Price asked with a sad smile. “You can let yourself go, Simon. We’ve got you. Can’t scare us away now.” Ghost sniffed and turned to hide his face in Soap’s shirt. His mind was oscillating, torn now between giving up and letting his brain do what it wanted to, and tearing himself away in shame.
“Scared.” He forced out again. He was trying so hard. He didn’t want to isolate himself this time. It was hard not to.
“It’s okay to be scared, Simon.” Soap spoke up, stroking over the man’s back. “Allowed to be scared. God knows you’ve got ev’ry right to be.”
“Been through so much.” Price continued quietly. “Feelin’ things about it is normal, you know? You can let yourself. Don’t have to be strong around us, son.” Ghost’s whole body froze for a moment before he curled up impossibly tighter, shoulders shaking as he let out an exhausted sob.
“Tired,” he said in a strangled voice. “Don’t want to think anymore.”
“Shhh. I know.” Price hushed him. “You don’t have to. Let us help, okay?” He gave a small pat to Ghost’s shoulder and murmured over his head to Soap.
“Aye, okay.” Soap nodded and looked down at the man in his lap. “Simon, lad, did I ever tell you about my sister’s bairns? Precocious, the lot of them.” Soap kept talking, keeping his voice light as he explained his niece and nephews antics, voice enthusiastic like he was just retelling the story to the kids themselves. He only faltered when Ghost let out an honest-to-god giggle, but just smiled with a responding small laugh and continued on. Price had successfully left the room unnoticed, and came back a little later with Gaz in tow. The man’s face had a mix of trepidation with a bit of excitement.
“Hey, Simon.” He said with false confidence as he crouched by the bunk to be face to face with him. Ghost made a soft noise, face creased in confusion. “Got something for you.” Gaz lifted his hands up, placing a well-worn fluffy dog on the bed next to Simon’s face. Gaz had opened up to his team about his own age regression a while ago, unable to bear being alone in it, but had never thought there’d be anybody else, regardless of how accepting the 141 had been. Price had come to him with an idea, unsure of if it was really where Ghost’s head was going, but wanted to try. And Gaz had easily agreed, digging under his bed to pull out his personal comfort item.
“Why?” Ghost asked in a way that made it obvious gears were turning in his head.
“You need a break.” Price stepped in with a small smile. “You don’t want to think. The world’s real big to you right now, right? So let yourself feel small. Let us take care of you.” Ghost swallowed, hesitation written over every inch of his body. But eventually, slowly, he reached out and grabbed at the small dog, slow tears rolling down his face as he clutched it to his chest.
“‘m sorry,” he whispered into the air.
“It’s okay, Simon.” Price said firmly. He motioned for Soap to move over and sat down on the edge of the small bunk. He rubbed a hand over Ghost’s shoulder and sighed. “What do you need from us, hm?” Ghost shook his head, clutching the soft plush to his chest. He was terrified, surrounded by people he trusted with his life but had still kept himself disconnected from, more vulnerable than he’d been in a very long time.
“Don’t know.” He managed. “Can’t- don’t-“ Ghost was used to taking orders. He was even used to stating his needs, sometimes. He understood the importance of that- hiding things out in the field was how you got killed. But this wasn’t on duty, this wasn’t in the middle of a warzone. Gaz swallowed, unsure, but reached out to press over where Ghost’s hands dwarfed the stuffed animal.
“You wanna have some cozy time?” He asked softly. “We can set things up in here nice, put on a show. Try to ignore the world for a while.” Ghost’s hands spasmed as he thought. Anxiety still filled every crease of his body. But he still wasn’t quite there enough to feel the shame that would no doubt course through him later, instead just a bit slow and clumsy.
“Okay.” He accepted quietly. Anything. Anything to get him out of his head, to get him back to normal. Things moved slowly around Ghost as he struggled to stay aware, and at the same time it was like he blinked and everything had changed. Extra blankets had been brought in. Ghost must’ve stood again at some point, because his bunk had been shoved sideways against the wall with the extra bunk in the room pressed against it to form a space where the whole team could sit. He sat cushioned between Gaz and Price, Soap moving around still. The lights were dim, sun through the blinds and the desk lamp shedding warmth over everything. Soap had precariously balanced a laptop at the end of the makeshift bed, pressed play on some sort of kids cartoon full of earthy tones that Ghost didn’t recognize. He sat slumped over, feeling impossibly small as Gaz and Price leaned straight up against him, taller than him and exuding comforting heat as they held him together. Soap came back over and clambered in next to Gaz, setting a plastic water bottle and a chocolate bar on Ghost’s lap and tugging the blankets around them.
Ghost’s eyes felt heavy again as the environment around him shifted. It was cozy. Soft sounds, a few laughs as the cartoon played. Gaz held the paw of the stuffed dog while Ghost still had an iron grip on the rest. Hands wrapped around him but not gripping, not clammy, just different enough that Ghost melted into it instead of pulling away. He sniffed as the remnants of his breakdown became visible in snot and a slight tremble remaining in his shoulders. There was no attention made to his tears of relief, the sagging of his posture, everyone just continuing to be soft and there and letting Ghost take his time. The only mild acknowledgment was Price squeezing a hand lightly on his shoulder where it rested across them. It made tears slip silently down Ghost’s face faster, and he twisted on the bed to press himself into Price’s lap, seeking comfort from the first man that had picked him up from being broken.
Price let a hand soothe across Ghost’s back, coaxed him into drinking a bit of water every now and then. The cartoon played softly in the background, Soap and Gaz having a hushed conversation on the other side of the mattress. It felt good, and warm, and safe. Ghost’s breathing slowly evened out as he lay wrapped up in Price’s arms, covered in a soft blanket.
The last bit of tension finally sapped from his body. Ghost let out a soft sigh, and finally fell asleep.