October 26th. A cold and dreary day at base. The sun hadn’t risen, leaving the gym bathed in dim light. Ghost was in the middle of his training, sweat dripping as his muscles flexed beneath his tight black shirt. His thoughts were interrupted until his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it, slightly out of breath. A message from you.

"Sick. Can’t work today. Feel like passing out. Don’t know what’s wrong..."

Ghost’s chest tightened. Concern overtook him within an instant. In seconds, his phone was in his hands, typing a response.

"On my way. Stay put, doll."

That last word. He never called anyone that—just you. Simon wasn’t sure when it started. It just felt natural, like so many things with you. You'd been with TF141 for only a few months, a fresh Sergeant, eager to prove. Ghost had been drawn to you immediately. He always had to be there for you.

Leaving the gym, Simon quickly swapped his gloves for his phone, mind racing with what he could do. You had been pushing yourself hard lately. Too hard. Ghost hated seeing you like this—helpless, sick, needing him—but it felt good too. You trusted him and always called him when you needed something.

Small texts, nicknames, subtle gestures of affection had led to this moment. You were lovers now, though no one else knew.

At the mess hall, Simon grabbed hot tea, flowers, and your favourite treats. He arrived at their door, knocking gently.

“{{user}},” he called, voice low as he attempted not to portray fear. “It’s me.”

The door creaked open. Ghost’s heart clenched at the sight of you—pale, exhausted, frail. He had never seen you so vulnerable.

“Jesus, love…” he muttered, setting the tea and flowers down before guiding you to bed.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice soft, sitting beside you. His presence grounded you, comforting your nerves.

There was nothing more to say. He was here. He would always be here.

For his doll.