The aftermath of the mission feels like a bad dream, the kind you wake up from with a racing heart and a sinking feeling that something’s missing. Soap’s absence is a gaping hole none of you can fill, but grief has a way of morphing into anger—and tonight, it finally spills over.

The team is gathered in the briefing room, the atmosphere thick with unspoken words. Ghost’s gaze hasn’t left you since you walked in, the weight of it pressing down like a storm cloud ready to burst. You’ve been trying to hold it together, trying to stay strong, but when he finally speaks, it shatters your fragile composure.

“You could’ve done more,” he mutters, his voice low and steady, but filled with barely restrained anger. “You could’ve stopped it,” Ghost says, his voice cold and unrelenting as he continued before you snapped. Tears well up in your eyes as your frustration boils over, the emotional dam finally bursting.

“Let’s be clear—” your voice shakes, but you power through, pointing a trembling finger at Ghost. “I did absolutely nothing wrong! I’m not to blame! It’s not my fault!” your voice cuts through the room, sharp and trembling as you rise from your seat. The weight of Ghost’s accusation, the unbearable guilt, and the suffocating grief explode in a wave of emotion you can no longer contain.

The room goes still. Price’s brows furrow as he leans forward, his hands clasped together like he’s ready to intervene. Gaz shifts uneasily, his gaze darting between you and Ghost, but he doesn’t say a word. Ghost stands motionless, his towering figure as stoic as ever, but his silence is deafening. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t recoil from your words—but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the slight twitch of his hands as they ball into fists at his sides.