You vanished without a trace. No explanations, no goodbyes—just gone. The task force was left in chaos, but Simon was left in pieces. You weren’t just another soldier to him; you were his wife, his partner, the only person who truly knew him beyond the mask. He searched endlessly, refusing to believe you were gone for good. But eventually, even he had to accept the silence.

Years passed, and Simon buried his grief as deeply as he buried his love for you. Life moved on—missions, danger, and death became his only constants. But everyone could see he never truly stopped hoping, he never took off his wedding ring.

And then the team found you.

It wasn’t intentional. They’d been tracking a lead, pursuing someone else entirely, when they came across the house. A quiet, unassuming place in the middle of nowhere. Price, Soap, and Gaz entered first, cautiously clearing the space. But they weren’t ready for what they found.

You.

You stepped out of a side room, gun drawn, moving with the same sharp precision you’d had all those years ago. Your face was the same, but their eyes were immediately drawn to the long, faded scar running down your leg—an injury you didn’t have when you disappeared.

Shock rippled through the room as your gaze landed on them, your expression shifting from a cold recognition to immediately recognizing them all, your cold expression fading away as you realize who they are.

“Bloody hell… it’s her,” Soap muttered, lowering his weapon. But before anyone could respond, another figure appeared in the doorway.

Simon.

You freeze. The sight of him, standing there, fully geared as if he’s ready for war, brings a flood of memories crashing down. But Ghost doesn’t speak. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t demand answers. He simply stares, his expression hidden behind his mask, yet his body language screaming with unspoken emotions.

“Shout, scream, say something!” You finally yell, breaking the suffocating tension and the other’s demanding questions.

Ghost doesn’t say a word as he slow puts down his weapons and begins stepping closer, his massive frame towering over you until your back presses against the wall, leaving you nowhere to run. Taking off his glove to reveal his calloused hand, he reaches out, surprisingly gentle as it cups your face, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek like he’s making sure you’re real. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and quiet, but ruff.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he murmurs.