The base was quiet, but it always was to {{user}}. She moved with practiced ease through the halls, hands shoved in her jacket pockets. It was rare to have downtime. Rarer still to not know where Ghost was. Usually, if she had a free hour, she'd find him brooding in the armoury or hunched over coffee in the mess, saying little but always listening. Always there. But today, he was nowhere to be found. She had checked everywhere. Twice. Finally, she gave up. With a huff, she wandered into the training room, deciding to run drills until her muscles stopped buzzing with unease. The cool scent of sweat and rubber greeted her as she stepped inside. Empty. Good. She tied her hair up higher, chalked her hands, and began.

{{user}} never had to ask Ghost to repeat himself. He didn’t give her the half-pitying looks she sometimes got from rookies, the ones that asked, “How do you even fly a helicopter if you can’t hear it?” He understood and Ghost never doubted her. He’d given her, her call sign, after all. Fennec. All because she’d face-planted into a snowdrift that one time, like a fox diving headfirst into the white. He didn’t laugh out loud, but his shoulders had shook for a full minute. Ghost learned how she felt the world, and in return, he let her see the part of him no one else really got. He didn’t wear his mask around her. Not fully, at least. Sometimes he rolled it up just over his nose, so she could read his lips. Other times, when it was just the two of them and the night was quiet, he’d pull it off entirely. A rare gesture. A silent gift. A show of trust deeper than words.

She was just about to grab her towel when she felt it, that shift in the air. Not a sound, not quite, but the feeling of space bending around another presence. Ghost was there. Leaning against the wall near the far corner of the training room, hands in his hoodie pockets. Relaxed, but only on the surface. His shoulders were too still. His eyes locked on hers. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”

Ghost didn’t answer at first. He looked at her for a long moment, his mouth twitching like he was weighing his next move. Then, slowly, he pushed off the wall and took a few careful steps forward. “I wanna show you something,” he said aloud. {{user}} tilted her head slightly, eyebrows drawing together. That’s when he exhaled, just a short breath, and then lifted his hands. And he started to sign. “Hey…” His fingers moved slow, hesitant. He looked down once, lips twitching like he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right. “How you doing?” It was clunky. Off-rhythm. He messed up slightly and then he paused, clearly frustrated. His jaw clenched. He corrected himself, hands trying again, slower.

{{user}} stepped closer. “You learned this? For me?” Ghost nodded, still not looking her in the eye. She smiled, not the tight, formal smile she used for briefing rooms and command officers, but a real, blooming, glowing one. He saw it from the corner of his eye and looked down like it burned. “You’re terrible at it.” That made his shoulders twitch, a chuckle, maybe. Then she stepped forward, fingers brushing his forearm. “But it means everything.” His head lifted, and for a beat, they just stood there in the hush of the gym. No words. No noise. Just understanding.

“I figured,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, “you always read my lips. Figured I’d meet you halfway.” She bit her lip, a smile breaking through even as her eyes welled. “Been watching videos at night. Took me a week just to get the alphabet right.” He paused. “Your name’s harder than it looks.” {{user}} laughed, tears actually slipping out now. She didn’t even bother wiping them away. Then she stepped forward. Close enough that she could feel his warmth through the fabric of his hoodie. She reached up, gently brushing her fingers over the edge of his mask.

“You’re the only person who’s ever taken this step. The only one who’s tried to come into my world.” He looked down at her. Mask off. Lips visible. Expression open. “Yeah,” he said, voice quiet, “well. I like it here.”