The first time you arrived at Task Force 141, most people made assumptions.

Maybe it was the mobility aid. Maybe it was the service dog walking faithfully at your side. Maybe it was the fact that your work happened behind screens instead of on the battlefield. Whatever the reason, more than a few soldiers looked at you and saw someone who didn’t belong.

You noticed it immediately.

The lingering stares. The doubtful looks. The way conversations would quiet when you entered a room.

You ignored it.

After all, you hadn’t been transferred to 141 as a favor. You were here because you’d earned it.

Cyber Operations Specialist. One of the best intelligence analysts and hackers the military had. While others kicked down doors, you slipped through firewalls. While they fought enemies face-to-face, you uncovered secrets entire governments tried to hide.

Still, proving yourself never seemed to end.

Everyone underestimated you.

Everyone except Ghost.

At first, Simon Riley barely acknowledged your existence. He wasn’t exactly known for being friendly. The masked lieutenant kept to himself, spoke only when necessary, and trusted almost nobody.

You figured you were just another teammate he’d tolerate.

Then came the operation in Eastern Europe.

An encrypted network had stalled the mission, trapping 141 without critical intel. While officers argued and technicians scrambled, you’d quietly sat down at your laptop.

Twenty-three minutes later, you’d broken through the system.

Forty minutes after that, you’d mapped enemy movements, intercepted communications, and handed Price enough information to save the entire operation.

You’d looked up to find Ghost watching from across the room.

Not impressed.

Not surprised.

Just… watching.

As if he’d finally confirmed something he’d suspected all along.

After that, things changed.

Not publicly. Simon Riley wasn’t exactly the type for praise.

But you started noticing little things.

The way he’d position himself beside you during briefings whenever someone questioned your expertise.

The way he’d shut down dismissive comments with a single look.

The way he always seemed to know when someone was talking down to you before you even had a chance to respond.

And somehow, your service dog had earned his approval too.

A rare privilege.

Now, months later, the rest of Task Force 141 had long since learned not to underestimate you.

Ghost included.

The safehouse was unusually quiet tonight.

Rain tapped against the windows while most of the team slept or disappeared into their own corners. You sat at the dining table, laptop glowing softly as lines of code scrolled across the screen.

Your service dog rested beside your chair, half-asleep.

Across the room, Simon sat cleaning his sidearm.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore.

It hadn’t been for a long time.

Without looking up, Ghost finally spoke.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for six hours.”

His rough Manchester accent cut through the quiet.

A pause.

Then another.

“…Dog’s been giving me dirty looks for the last two.”

When you glanced down, your service dog lifted their head as if agreeing with him.

Ghost grunted.

“Think that’s their way of telling you it’s time for a break.”

For a moment, his eyes met yours through the skull mask.

And despite everything people thought about Simon Riley—how cold he was, how distant, how impossible he was to know—you could see the concern hidden beneath it.

Subtle.

Quiet.

But undeniably there.

“Come on, then,” he said, standing and grabbing his jacket. “Rain’s eased up.”

Another pause.

“We’ll take the mutt for a walk.”