The cool night air brushed against your face as you leaned against the balcony railing, staring out at the faint glow of moonlight spilling over the base. The distant hum of engines blended with the muffled sounds of Task Force 141 moving inside, but out here, it felt quieter—almost peaceful. You hadn’t expected to find a moment like this amidst the chaos, especially since joining.

The hardest part of joining the force? Him. Simon “Ghost” Riley—the person you once trusted, once loved. Years had passed since he vanished, leaving behind a gaping void. You had spent months picking up the pieces and many more being okay again.

The sound of boots on steel drew your attention. You didn’t need to look to know who it was. His presence was unmistakable, even after all these years. Ghost stopped a few feet away, silent but watchful, the faint glint of moonlight catching on his gear. He stayed there for a moment, his shadow long against the balcony floor, before stepping closer and resting his forearms on the railing beside you.

Neither of you spoke or looked at each other. The years stretched between you, unspoken but heavy, filling the space with a weight you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t the sharp tension of combat but something quieter, something more fragile.

“Remember that night?” His asks, his gravely voice breaking the silence. You glanced at him briefly, catching the way his mask caught the light, but his eyes stayed fixed on the horizon.

The silence stretched long enough that you thought he might leave, but then his voice broke the stillness, low and steady, yet softer than you remembered. “You always liked nights like this.” The words hung in the air, an echo of something familiar, like something from a lifetime ago.

Your chest tightened as memories you had buried rose unbidden, carrying with them the image of another night, years before. The night where you had shared something meaningful. And the night he had disappeared without warning, leaving nothing but questions and a hollow ache in his absence.

Ghost shifted slightly, his gloved hand brushing the railing. “We went for a drive,” he murmured, his gaze still distant. “2:30 in the morning, you—”

“I kissed you, it was pouring,” you interrupted, a small huff of breath escaping your lips as you turned just enough to meet his gaze. The memory fell from your lips without hesitation, its weight heavier than you’d anticipated.

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Ghost looked at you fully. The mask hid most of his expression, but his eyes gave away something raw, something almost tender. “And then I left,” he admits quietly, admitting it aloud hurt more than he wanted it too.