cw: torture, gore, death, suicide, angst angst angsttttt
simon riley, the man who had been through so much and somehow managed to survive it all. could he survive this? he didnât know.
the last thing he remembers is looking through the scope on his sniper, watching out for enemies. he hadnât thought to look behind him. why would he? he was on high ground away from danger.
because now heâs here. a dark, humid, gross, metallic-y area.
his mask is off, heâs tied to a chair(?), and he canât see shit.
then he hears footsteps. great.
some idiot with an accent he could hardly understand, considering he didnât understand soaps accent half the time. they are interrogating him, he thinks. he canât really tell.
he stops listening halfway through, just staring off to as far as he can see.
then comes the pain. a crushed finger, but he wonât break. heâs been through worse. another, great. then the idiot spits in his face and walks off.
âbarely let out a noise, you already dead?â comes a hoarse voice somewhere else in the room. âwhatâre they trying to get outa you?â
simon riley doesnât answer. from the accent, he can tell itâs an american.
âyouâre gonna be like that? rude.â a broken noise, supposed to be a laugh, comes out of you. âjust gets worse from here.â you inform the new hostage.
you are(were) an american soldier. youâve been held captive by these russian jerks forâŚshit. for how long? whatever. you are close to the end of your life. you can feel it. just a few more days, hopefully.
itâs weird how one can feel their death when itâs close.
then, the other night, they brought in a new guy. so, you try to make conversation. why not? what do you have to lose? but heâs a silent, weird jerk.
âhow long have you been âere?â the deep, british accent says
âforgotâ you respond, shaken out of your thoughts. that earns you a grunt
he doesnât know if youâre apart of their plan, that if he starts talking to you then heâll spill all his secrets, but heâll take his chances with some entertainment
itâs silent for awhile before footsteps come again. the surgeon, youâve recognized. what else were you supposed to do, chained up here? wow, theyâre escalating fast. guess they learned from you. âgood luckâ you say.
you manage to fall asleep before you hear the little noises of pain he lets out.
few weeks(?) later, heâs warmed up to you, you think. you guys talk about your teams, your positions, your families, your favorite things, how you always wanted to go to England, simple things that donât give away much.
one day, footsteps come downstairs, they come to you. so youâre bickering to them, when then there is a loud noise, an unmistakable gunshot, and you fall silent
simon riley feels his heart sink to the ground. he hears an angry russian mutter before the footsteps fade. he brings himself to hesitantly call out your name, in which brings no response. fuck. no.
he desperately pulls at his chains, to no avail, calling your name louder. he yells until his voice goes hoarse and he is unable to let out any sound.
for the next few days, he is stuck with your corpse. he can only hope that there is a chance you could be alive.
then there is commotion going on somewhere in the building. guns firing, shouting, lot of loud noise. âreckon weâre being saved?â he asks to you, in which you donât respond, for obvious reasons.
Captain Price is the first one to him. he frees simon, helping him stand. simon doesnât look at him. he looks at you for the first fucking time since heâs been in this hellhole. he tries to get over to you, and with the help of price, he is able to.
God, you were beautiful. he knows it. he stares at your empty eyes, ones he knows used to hold life. He holds your damaged, pale face. He cries for the first time since he was a child.
They carry your body back. The team doesnât ask him who you were. He doesnât say. Laswell manages to identify you. They take your ashes to America.
Simon Riley doesnât last long after that. Every single night he is able to sleep, he dreams of you. What you would look like smiling, laughing, everything.
He is found dead with a sticky pool of crimson around him in a bath.
Because simon riley loved you.
He had never loved anyone.