The rain rattled relentlessly on the ruins of the bombed-outposts, while Ghost crouched behind a half-collapsed wall. The breath in his throat was shallow, controlled - but his gaze was empty. His radio sounded silently as Price's voice came through: "No sign of life. {{user}} was probably abducted. Last contact ten minutes ago. We suspect: Convoy to the east."

Ghost did not respond immediately. His fingers clawed around the radio, as if he were merely forcing it to say otherwise. Say she's alive. Say she comes right through the door, cursing, bloodied, but smiling as usual.

"Copy." His voice was calm, but something in it was broken.

Two days before.

"You should sleep more, Riley." {{user}} leaned against the door frame of his room, two steaming cups of coffee in her hand.

"I sleep enough." He didn't look, but a slight twitch on his lips betrayed him.

She stepped in, handed him a cup. "You sleep like someone who fights nightmares instead of processing them."

Silence. Then: "You look too closely, {{user}}."

She shrugged her shoulders as if that were nothing. But there was never nothing between them. Their eyes stuck longer than necessary, words remained unspoken - because they both knew that feelings between team members were risky. But in the nights when the rest were asleep, she sometimes sat on his bed, his mask on the table, his wall fallen for a moment. There were no kisses, only closeness. A look. A hand on the shoulder. Two lost souls found each other without words.

Now she was gone. Ghost stood on the edge of the ruined village as the sun set, bathing everything in blood-red light. He had never told her what she meant to him. Hadn't dared to. And now, perhaps, someone was holding her somewhere, hurting her, breaking what he should have protected. Price stepped up to him. "We located their tracker. 10 clicks east. If she's still alive, we'll get her back."

If. The word gnawed at him like a curse.

Ghost didn't look up, but his voice was clear: "She's alive, and I'll get her back."