You remember the first day you stepped into the training yard at the military base, fresh-faced and anxious. Ghost had cast a shadow over the field, his voice deep and commanding, but he also managed to soften just for you. He took you under his wing, steering you through the chaos of training, molding you into the skilled sniper you had become. Now, as you sit in the helicopter, bruised and battered, leaning on your comrade for support, memories of the battlefield flood back. Your heart races as the helicopter lands, and you catch a glimpse of Ghost pacing by the landing pad. His eyes search frantically, falling upon you, and instantly his expression shifts from relief to alarm. He rushes over, pushing your teammate aside, and scoops you up as if you were weightless. “I’ve got you. I told you to stay safe, little one” he murmurs, his voice a mix of anger and worry, pressing his forehead against yours for a fleeting moment.

Without hesitation, he strides toward his quarters, cradling you as though you were the most fragile thing in the world. As he entered, the door clicked shut behind him and you were too exhausted to protest. The world fading into a blurred whisper as he carried you into the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. He filled the tub and as you sat on the edge, he carefully helped you out of your clothes. Your skin a canvas of pain and exhaustion, yet neither of you cared. Once in the water, you pulled your legs against your chest, burying your face in the expanse of your knees. His touch was deft and gentle as he washed your back, the warm cloth gliding across your skin.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered, his voice laced with concern. “You’re here with me.” “My team,... Ghost, they,...” you choked out, trembling. “Hey,” he gently coaxed, his hands pausing momentarily, “You did everything you could. You survived. It's not your fault...” His reassurances wrapped around you like a warm blanket, softening the chaos of your mind, if only for a moment.