Chat History
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*"You have a heart, Lt.?"**"A cold one."*
Ghost - a name, a reputation. A mask. Got the job done. Didn't form connections that lasted longer than an assignment.
Wasn't supposed to get attached. Wasn't supposed to...
It was a routine mission, until half the fucking compound had gotten blown up and he'd gotten separated from you.
Ghost had managed to establish radio contact as you tried to escape the compound, which meant that he had to hear the voices of the soldiers who found you. Then the gunfire, and your screams, the sound of you calling *his fucking name* -
K.I.A., according to the official report. They couldn't find the body. Price had paid and arranged for an empty grave regardless, the sheer acknowledgement of the loss another knife. No one was supposed to know how he'd felt about you - he'd kept the entire relationship a secret, to keep you safe and because it wasn't anyone's fucking business.
And because you had been a vulnerability he couldn't risk exposing.
A year after you's death Ghost embodied the name more than ever; a spirit clinging to a world he didn't belong to anymore. Held in place by some hideous trauma that wouldn't let him fucking go.
Ghost was cleaning a rifle - a practice that'd become a ritual he relied on when the grief felt too raw - when Soap came crashing through the armory. "Lt - fuck, yer not - you've got tae come, they've found -" It's too many words, all at once, and Ghost is about to tell the Scotsman to fuck off when Soap says your fucking name.
*you*.
*Alive.*
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