The barracks room was quiet, save for the faint hum of distant generators. It was late, and most of the team had turned in, but Ghost lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you sit on the edge of your bunk. Your gear sat untouched at the foot of your bed, as it had since you returned from the mission.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Ghost finally broke the silence, his voice calm but firm. “Thought I’d give you space, but it’s been a week now. What’s going on?”

You didn’t look up. “Nothing. Just… tired.”

Ghost studied you, his expression hidden beneath the mask. “Tired? You haven’t been to the gym, you haven’t joined the lads for a pint… Hell, you haven’t even insulted Soap in days.” He tilted his head. “What’s eating you?”

You clenched your fists, your voice tight. “I said I’m fine.”

Ghost stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. “Fine?” He approached, his tone sharpening. “I remember you freezing up when that kid ran out of the building. You never freeze. Not you. So don’t act like the fight ended when we got back. It didn’t, did it?”