Chapter Text
ghost owns the service station johnny pulls into.
he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired from a hectic and all-too loud life in the military and you can't get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn't seen anyone in days so he's quick to notice the car pulling in. he's also quick to notice the lad inside’s subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras.
the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they're all he has left in the world, is so familiar he feels sick with it.
he knows someone running when he sees it.
if he doesn’t check on him, if this lad disappears one day and the baby along with him, he'll never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen.
but the lad is terrified. and when he startles him, he doesn't turn. doesn't lift his arms to protect himself. no.
he covers his baby.
like he’s afraid he'll be hurt.
that's enough for ghost.
he doesn't know the lad's story, doesn't know the details of what he's running from. he doesn't need to. he decided he’s helping him the second he pulled into his service station.
ghost brings johnny and alastair into the service station and, out of sight of the road, asks him plainly if he’s got something bad chasing him. johnny’s cagey but tells him it’d be best if they aren’t found. ghost nods and gets him something to eat, telling him he needs to keep his strength up for his son when he tries to refuse, and goes back outside to hide the car in the garage.
they talk about what johnny plans on doing next and something in ghost chafes at how completely unprepared he is. he doesn’t tell him the details but confesses to having no friends or family, no education since his husband convinced him to drop out of high school.
he’s alone in the world and it’s such a clear mirror of his mother that he has to take a breath so he doesn’t break something. so he offers him a place to stay for the night; a chance to catch his breath and figure things out somewhere safe.
he shows johnny to the little one bedroom cabin he built behind the station, hidden by the trees and kept warm by a small wood fire. he doesn’t think twice about giving johnny and the baby the bedroom despite johnny’s protests at kicking him out of his own room. he’s happy to sleep out in the living room; it lets him keep watch out the window for whoever’s after johnny.
“the night” turns into a few days, turns into a week and before they know it, it’s been months of them living together as a little makeshift family. johnny stops flinching at every noise, stops lowering his voice and avoiding eye contact. he starts laughing again and can’t remember when he stopped.
johnny starts working in the service station despite ghost telling him he doesn’t need to, but he wants his independence back; he hasn’t had a job since he was a teenager and he never wants to be in someone else’s debt ever again. he finds he likes it, likes the physical effort and being able to sit back and see fruits of his labour.
ghost can’t take that from him when he’s so obviously happy cleaning and shelving stock so he teaches him everything he knows and more; answers every question he has, shows him how to work the till and eventually how to fix up the broken cars in the garage.
ghost doesn’t find out who’s after them for a long time; johnny’s been burned and reluctant to trust anyone. but through nights spent whispering after finally getting alastair to sleep, through jokes and dinners shared and sunrises spent in comfortable silence, they gradually heal each other.
ghost couldn’t save his mum or the children he and tommy used to be, but he can save this small family.
alastair grows like a weed and it’s as they’re sitting opposite each other on the rug, coaxing alastair through his first unsteady steps, that their eyes meet and johnny realises maybe there’s room for one more in his little family.
johnny’s husband eventually tracks him down and comes looking for him, bursting through the doors of the service station while he’s on shift. he’s civil at first, remarking that he’s managed to find such a quaint little job without him but it’s time to end this tantrum and come home. johnny refuses and his mask of arrogant amusement shatters to reveal the enraged man he knows.
he grabs johnny’s wrist and tries to force him over the counter, telling him he’s coming back whether he likes it or not, and johnny pulls one of ghost’s guns out from under the counter. the gun he taught him how to use.
he aims it with a steady hand directly between his husband’s eyes and tells him he’s going nowhere.
he scrambles back, trying and failing to look calm and in control as he tells him he’ll regret this. johnny just silently follows him with the gun, watching him practically fall through the front door and slam it shut.
johnny drops to his knees behind the counter, his entire body shaking as he covers his mouth and tries not to scream. he stays there until ghost gets back from his walk with alastair; calling his name with poorly suppressed panic and takes alastair from him just to hold him in his arms.
ghost watches him crumble, watches the shaky-proud line of his back crumble as he whispers assurances to his baby; promises that they’re safe, that he’ll never let him hurt them again. he watches the fear johnny had forgotten come back to life and the bruise on his wrist bloom and he takes the gun; silently exiting the service station and hunts across his entire property to make sure the man actually left.
he hunts and almost hopes he didn’t.
he gets back long past dark to johnny curled up in front of the fire, alastair asleep on his chest, and pride wars with anger wars with pain when he pulls another gun on him without a breath of hesitation. he locks the door behind him and sits between it and johnny, placing a gentle hand on alastair’s head as he sets the gun aside.
johnny presses into his side and drops his head onto his shoulder. “i can’t go through that again, ghost,” he warns, voice hard and yet heartbreakingly fragile. “i won’t.”
ghost presses back and rests his head on top of his. “he won’t ever touch you again,” he swears to them both.
neither of them sleep that night.
the sunrise eventually comes, bathing them both in gentle gold and ghost gets to work. he sets up cameras and traps along his entire property, ensures they’re dug in and defended from every angle. then he goes down the long list of people who owe him a favour; contacts in every branch of military, pmc’s and militias who’d be shot on sight if they step foot in the country. he tells them to keep their eyes open and to spread the word:
the ghost wants this man dragged to him; kicking, screaming and afraid. but he doesn’t want him killed.
that honour belongs to someone else.