The night had been colder than usual, the wind biting through the fabric of your jacket as you moved through the shadows of the city skyline. The mission had gone sideways, leaving you separated from the team and hanging on for your life. The comms crackled with static, Ghost’s voice cutting through occasionally as he barked orders to regroup. His tone was sharp, as always, but there was an edge of something else—something you didn’t dare hope for.

Your arms trembled, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You’d faced danger before, stared death in the face countless times, but this felt different. This felt final.

The comm in your ear crackled, a low burst of static before his voice cut through. “Where are you?” Ghost’s tone was sharp, biting, but there was an edge to it you hadn’t heard before—a crack beneath the surface.

“Rooftop,” you managed, teeth chattering as the ledge beneath your fingers shifted again. “East side.”

There was no response, only silence. Then, faintly, the sound of boots pounding against concrete. Fast. Desperate. He was coming, you realized, but you didn’t know if he’d make it in time.

The ledge crumbled further, your grip faltering as pieces of concrete tumbled into the void below. Your stomach twisted, the drop beneath you feeling more real with every second. You tried to hold on, forcing every ounce of strength into your arms, but your body wasn’t listening.

Your fingers slipped.

For a moment, you were weightless, the wind rushing past you as the world tilted and spun. The city lights blurred into streaks of color, and then—impact. A hand caught yours, jerking you to a sudden stop.

You looked up, breath hitching as your gaze met his. Ghost’s face was partially shadowed, but his eyes—those sharp, cold eyes that had always seemed untouchable—were wide and filled with something unrecognizable.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His grip was iron as he hauled you upward, his muscles straining with effort. Every movement was precise, deliberate, and when he finally got you onto solid ground, he collapsed to his knees beside you.

The world felt still, the rush of wind and the city noise fading into nothing. You lay there, gasping for air, the reality of what just happened sinking in. Before you could move, he pulled you into his arms, his hold almost crushing.

“Ghost—“

“Simon,” he interrupts, letting out a ragged breath before continuing, “just Simon.” His chest heaved against yours, his breath uneven and ragged. When you glanced up, the sight of him made your heart twist. His eyes, rimmed red and glassy, held an intensity that made it hard to look away.

For a long time, he stayed like that, his head bowed, his arms locked around you. The usual stoicism was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded, it made you realize how much he truly cares for you, more than you could ever even dare to imagine.

You didn’t speak, didn’t move, simply letting him hold you, as if calming his own nerves in your touch. Holding you as if you cannot be replaced.