Chapter Text
Simon,
I want you to know that I'm sorry. I can't sleep at night, and my days are plagued by visions of what happened. I can't get it out of my head. I want you to know that this decision wasn't made lightly and I'd been thinking about it for awhile now. Thank you for everything you've done for me, I honestly don't think I'd have made it this far without you. I know you probably won't care or reciprocate, but I don't think I'm making out of this alive, so I have to tell you.
I love you Simon. I love the way you feel against me, I love the sound of your voice, and I love when you call me love.
I just needed you to know. Don't think I'm coming home, and I've made my peace with that. Keep Soap out of trouble for me, and take care of yourself. Bottom right drawer.
-(y/n)
Simon’s chest heaved as he gripped the note you’d left for him. He stood there, frozen, the first light of dawn beginning to pour into your empty room.
What time was it? What time had you left?
His heart raced as he bolted down the hallway, towards the common room.
He had awoken about fifteen minutes prior, finding his bed cold and empty. It was strangely quiet, aside from Soap’s snores across the hall. He immediately sensed something wasn’t right. He checked the bathroom, the balcony, any place you usually go when you can’t sleep. Lastly, your room. When he knocked, there was no answer. When he tried the door, it wouldn’t budge. Without a second thought, he busted the lock on your door and prepared himself.
Had you tried to hurt yourself? Were you alive?
He had no idea because he found the room devoid of your presence, except for the note on your pillow.
When he stormed into the common room, Soap was lazily making himself coffee, half awake, and John was sitting at the table reading the daily newspaper.
“She’s gone.” Simon slams the note on the table.
John and Soap look at him in confusion.
”Mate, what?” Soap stops pouring his coffee and fully faces him.
”(y/n). She. Is. gone.” Simon says again unsteadily, and pushes the note towards Soap.
John leans forward, eyebrow furrowed. He snatches the note once Soap is finished reading and his jaw hardens.
His eyes flick up to Simon in demand. “Where.”
Simon gives John a knowing look and spins on his heel. He knows where she’s gone. They all fucking knew where she’s gone.
“I’m goin’ after her.” He calls over his shoulder.
”Simon! We need to talk about this! I need to call Laswell.” John calls out, knowing he can damn well hear him, but Simon’s already halfway down the hall.
”Johnny, stop him for fuck’s sake.” Price explodes and pushes from his seat, hastily grabbing his cellphone. He definitely needed to call Laswell.
Soap abandons his coffee and runs after Simon, a million thoughts running through his head. Surely you wouldn’t just leave, right? Would you actually…?
Over 3,500 miles away, you had just stepped through the cabin of your new hideout. Shaking the snow from your boots, you shrug your coat off and survey your surroundings.
An older woman from the village had rented it out to you a few hours earlier, after landing from the plane. This village was just south of where you were being held. You remember passing through it right before the mission, before you were captured.
The cabin was a small one, and tidy. Hidden in the woods off of a backroad meant for vacationing. After checking the rooms, you’re sure to lock the doors and windows, drawing the curtains.
You lay your weapons on the table and begin cleaning your guns. A map sits next to the pistol you just finished with, marking how many klicks put your destination was. Now you just had to figure out how to get in.
Thoughts swirled around in your brain, memories of the past overtaking in anger. You cocked the gun you held a little too hard.
You remembered everything. Staring at the classified information on the desk in front of you, you plan out how you were going to capture your first victim.
He was only a boy. But that made it better for you…easier to torture and manipulate into giving you the information and intel needed to get to who you were really after. You study his picture and feel a pang of pity before quickly extinguishing it. They felt no pity for you when they violently raped you and tortured you to no end.
You decided that you would not feel a single thing while on this mission. You would not give them mercy. You would not show them an ounce of emotion. You would only show them what they showed you;
Pain.
No remorse.
No accountability.
No pity.
You were finally here.
And so the hunt begins.