”I knew I'd find you here.” Ghost's deep voice cut through the rain as he approached, his steps deliberate against the damp earth of the cemetery.

You sat next to the grave of a friend you lost over two years ago, someone who fought alongside you before Task Force 141. The rain soaked through your clothes, adjusting to the weight pressing down on your chest.

Ghost stopped a few steps away, his skull mask unreadable. As your lieutenant, he had every reason to try and steer you away from this, but he just stood there with silent understanding. He knew loss – Soap's death hit him hard, a pain he hadn't gotten over yet.

You had been strange all day, a melancholy that was unusual for someone so seemingly unshakable. Price mentioned something about mourning, so when you disappeared in the middle of the night, he knew where to look. The rest was easy, he had the necessary contacts to know which cemetery to look in.

“Get up,” Ghost finally said, his tone firm but softer than usual. “Sitting here won't change anything.”

His words hurt, but he wasn't wrong. His voice carried the weight of experience, a shared pain he would never admit out loud. For now, that was enough.