Chapter Text
Simon is quiet for a long time after that as the fire continues cracking softly between you while wind continues to blow branches that graze the cabin walls.
You think that he isn't going to give you an actual answer at all, that this is another one of those countless moments where he offers something and then pulls back before you can reach it.
But then he leans forward slightly in the armchair with his forearms resting on his knees, his gloved hands loosely clasped together and fingers toying absently with the fabric.
"Ye asked before, 'bout prison." he suddenly says and your eyes shift towards him surprised while his stay fixed on the flames.
You just stare at him because he never answers questions like that, never spins back to answer what he didn't - at least he never has before, not really and not when it mattered nor when the answer would actually tell you something real about him without alcohol being involved.
A sense of worry floods your head, worry for something dangerous and something human from him all the same.
"You don't have to tell me." you mumble almost automatically, your eyes drifting away briefly before finding him again.
"Know that." Simon huffs quietly, then pauses briefly " 'm gonna anyway."
The admission catches you off guard.
You pull the blanket a little higher over yourself as the pain medicine starts to dull the worst of your feet, not enough to forget it's there but enough to listen to him.
Simon rolls his shoulders once like he's settling into something uncomfortable before he speaks.
"The bank job." he starts, his voice lower now "We knew someone hit the silent alarm."
"You did?" you ask with furrowed brows and he nods.
"Too much movement." he shrugs with one shoulder, his eyes remaining on the fire "Dropped bags, nervous staff...people start actin' strange when they think help's comin'."
You can picture it.
The bank, the chaos, the panic - you saw a still image of it on TV, moments before you had to acknowledge that Ghost was Mr. Riley from across your door.
"We figured we still had time, thought we had at least ten minutes." he goes on, jaw tightening before a dry, raspy and humorless laugh leaves him "Turns out we had about three."
The fire pops in the hearth, but you pay it no mind.
"When the first police car showed up outside, Price knew immediately."
Your stomach tightens slightly.
Price - the only one who was against Ghosts plan of kidnapping you, not that it mattered much in the end.
"He looked out the front windows, then swore like a bloody sailor." Simon huffs amused and you almost smile despite yourself.
Simon notices the twitch of your lips from the corner of his eyes and they briefly flick towards you before going back to the fire.
"Next thing we know police is everywhere." his fingers tighten together, the fabric of his gloves compressing under the pressure.
You can hear it in your head - sirens, commands shouted through megaphones and weapons pointed at every exit like you've seen in movies.
"The whole bloody street was blocked." his voice grows flatter, the words sounding strange in his deep voice as if he's repeating a recording.
"Soap wanted to shoot our way out." he continues and even though you don't really know him, it does sound like something Soap would suggest.
"Price and Gaz talked him out of it, then things got worse." he pauses, blinking like he's mentally re-living the moment which makes your attention sharpen.
"What happened?" you ask and Simon exhales slowly.
"We thought we'd secured everyone. Staff, customers, security...we missed one." his jaw flexes at the latter, then loosens again before he sighs.
"A security guard." he starts, the words coming out clipped "Played scared and helpless."
"We took his weapons, tied him like we did the other security guards and thought that was that. It wasn't." Simon's eyes narrow slightly as his stare remains fixed somewhere in the flames.
Something in Simon's expression changes, something small and barely noticeable but there - regret, maybe.
"Price was closest." he states with an even lower dropped voice after a beat and your stomach sinks a little immediately.
"Guard got loose, got hold of a stool for the employees."
You blink.
"Then...what?" you ask hesitant and a little careful.
"He managed to get one good swing." Simon clarifies, his gaze remaining distant.
The image forms instantly - Price distracted, police outside while everyone is watching the exits instead of the guard.
"He caught Price in the knee real good, folded him."
You wince in sympathy you shouldn't have and Simon nods in agreement.
"Bad?" you ask and his shoulders lift in a half shrug.
"Bad enough that Price couldn't run." his voice turns rougher as the room seems to grow quieter, the fire crackling softly.
You already know where this story goes but hearing it is different because for the first time, Simon isn't telling you facts - he's telling you what it felt like, giving you emotion to his words.
"What happened then?"
His eyes finally leave the fire and meet yours briefly before he seems to think better of it and looks away again.
"We argued."
The answer surprises you because you expected certainty, not arguing.
"Gaz wanted to carry him, wouldn't have worked." Simon huffs with a small shake of his head.
You try to picture it, how Gaz tries to carry an injured Price who has a few inches and a few pounds on him during a tight situation.
"Ah wanted another route that didn't exist, not for all of us."
Another shake of his head follows his words, his eyes growing distant again.
"Price told us to leave him, but none of us listened." Simon huffs.
You can practically hear Price saying it, the rasp of his voice deeper with pain.
A few seconds pass, then he speaks again.
"So Ah made the decision."
The cabin seems smaller suddenly, the air heavier and you already know where the story is going.
"Ah walked out."
Your chest tightens - the words are simple, almost casual, but something about them feels enormous.
"Just like that?" you ask quietly, suddenly worried that speaking too loud might break apart whatever this is.
"Lowered my weapon down and told the others to go." Simon nods, leaning his back further into the cushions of the armchair.
"And they listened?"
"No." he scoffs in response and for the first time, genuine amusement touches his eyes "They were bloody furious. Soap was yellin' and cursin' me out, Gaz was tryin' to argue w' me while Price sat on the floor with a ruined knee and tryin' to come up with somethin' else."
Imagining that scene actually makes you smile a little even when part of you knows that everyone else in that bank was terrified.
"They thought Ah was bein' stupid."
"You were." you muse, the response slipping out before you can stop it.
Simon blinks, then unexpectedly lets out a short and barked laugh - a real one, low and brief.
"Yeah, probably." he agrees, his gaze softened now rather than distant.
The moment fades and his attention drifts back toward the fire.
"One of us had to stay, make a distraction to get the attention elsewhere. It couldn't have been any of the others, they got more to loose."
Your smile disappears and heavy silence settles between you as you ponder about wether to ask what exactly he means or not, but you decide against it.
"Got 'em to take the bags, took my weapon again and went out. Caused a distraction long enough for the others to get out and after my standoff with the old bill they arrested me." Simon explains, his fingers loosening like ending this chapter of the story is a relief.
You study him quietly as the firelight dances across the edges of his mask, watching his lashes flutter with every blink.
"You knew they'd come back." you state and he nods without hesitation.
"Always."
The certainty in his voice doesn't surprise you.
You already knew of his confidence in the others, the absolute trust in them - the kind of trust built over they years, the kind that means more than you can fully understand.
Then something occurs to you, a detail you've almost forgotten.
"You said before that they...knew about me." you say slow and quiet and Simon's expression changes immediately, small but unmistakable.
"How?" you finally ask, your heart beating slightly faster in your chest now.
For the first time since he started talking, Simon actually looks uncomfortable - not defensive or angry, but actually a little uncomfortable which somehow feels stranger than anger would.
His hand drags over the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, you didn't know he had those.
"Had a few drinks one night." he finally sighs.
"A few?" you blink.
"A lot." Simon corrects himself begrudgingly and a reluctant smile pulls at your mouth since that certainly sounds more believable.
Simon notices and his eyes do half the motion of an eye roll before he fixes them back on the fire, shifting in the armchair.
"We were at the pub and conversation got away from me." he says, clearing his throat a little awkwardly.
Your stomach flips unexpectedly, heat creeping up the back of your neck before reaching your cheeks.
"Simon." you say but he ignores the warning in your tone.
"Talked about ye."
Your face heats even more immediately, a grimace of embarrassment settling on your face.
"Why?" you ask, the question coming out quicker than intended.
Simon's jaw tightens, making you think he won't answer but then he does.
"Because Ah liked ye."
To you, it feels like the room goes completely silent - as if the wind has stopped it's relentless bully of the branches, as if the fire has stopped it's dancing.
Your heart stumbles once, hard enough that the pause between heartbeats feels like an eternity.
Simon doesn't look at you, doesn't soften it or takes it back - he just leaves it there brutally honest and that honesty feels more dangerous than anything else he's said.
"Soap thought it was funny." Simon goes on, his voice sounding distant now like he's giving you space to recover from the confession.
"Gaz thought Ah was pathetic."
You almost laugh - almost.
"Price told me to either talk to ye properly or leave ye alone."
That one actually makes you laugh weakly, because of course Price told him that as seemingly the only one with at least a touch of a moral compass.
A ghost of amusement touches Simon's eyes too, then fades.
"They knew yer name, knew where ye worked 'nd stuff like that." he continues, looking down at his hands where his fingers fidget slightly with each other once more.
Your stomach tightens - they knew more about you than you liked way before you even knew they existed, it's a uncomfortable thought you try to push away because it doesn't matter anymore.
"Not because we were planning anything." Simon quickly adds, firm and almost a little sharp "Just...in case."
The words settle heavily between you.
"Just in case...what?" you finally probe.
In case you moved? Quit your job? Got away before his hands could ever grab you?
"In case somethin' happened to me." he answers like that's a reasonable worry anyone his age has.
"In case Ah got killed or arrested or just disappear."
The words are blunt, matter of fact, and only go to show once more that Ghost knows exactly what he's doing.
"So someone would've checked on ye in those cases." Simon finishes, his eyes locking onto yours.
The confession lands harder than you expect.
It sounds ridiculous, impossible, and yet somehow completely genuine.
A plan made months before any of this happened, before he changed your lock and before he went to prison - before everything went wrong.
You don't know what to say, don't even know what to think.
He has already told you about all the things you didn't notice but he did, about all the things that endangered you in one way or another.
Maybe he's really just looking out for you in his own twisted and weird way, but that doesn't justify stripping you of everything - right?
As you continue holding his gaze, Simon doesn't look like your captor for the first time since he brought you here.
He just looks tired, exhausted like a man remembering the exact moment his life started falling apart and somehow that look on him is far more terrifying than the monster you've spent weeks trying to hate.
For once the silence doesn't feel hostile, it just feels heavy and thoughtful as if both of you are sorting through thoughts and feelings to try and understand them.