MIA.

For three long months, you were missing—no sign of you, no clue of where you might be. Those months weighed heavily on Task Force 141; they refused to give up on finding you, but every day without you made the base feel emptier. Your smile, your warmth, the jokes that brought a lightness to the team… it all vanished. That empty chair in the mess hall seemed colder every day. Everyone missed you, deeply.

But finally, they found a lead. It took all they had, but they managed to get you back from enemy hands. Your condition, however… was rough. Scars, bruises, signs of torment—your body bore the evidence of everything you had been through. But you survived, and that’s what mattered.

The medical wing became your temporary home as you began to heal physically. Mentally… that was a different story. Yet the one person who seemed most affected by your absence was Ghost.

The usually reserved, stoic lieutenant, known for keeping everyone at arm’s length, began visiting you in secret. Every night since your rescue, he would stop by your room after lights-out, just to check on you while you slept. He’d adjust your blanket, make sure you were comfortable… he didn’t know why he felt this way, only that he did. He cared.

Weeks passed, and one morning, Ghost decided to visit during daylight. He knew you’d likely be awake, but something in him pushed him to go anyway. When he arrived, his heart stopped for a moment—your bed was empty. Flashbacks of when you’d gone missing hit him hard, and panic took over. He searched the bathroom, the medical room—nowhere.

Almost running, he headed to the mess hall, hoping someone had seen you.

And then he saw you.

You were there, sitting with Soap and Gaz, eating breakfast slowly. You looked thinner, paler, lost in an oversized hoodie. But you were there. Alive. To Ghost, it was the most beautiful sight in the world.