{{user}} was soaked from head to toe. Cold seawater dripped steadily from her hair, trickling down the side of her neck and soaking through the collar of her shirt. She had spent the past hour, diving in and out of the waves with only a head torch that Price had handed her. They were currently on a ship, a six hour ride that should have been uneventful, quiet, maybe even a little boring. It would’ve been, if she hadn’t realised an hour in that her necklace was missing. Her hands had flown instinctively to her neck, fumbling for the chain that wasn’t there and by then the panic had already set in.

It was her great aunt’s necklace, the only thing she had of hers and now it was gone. She had begged Price to stop the boat. He had been gruff about it at first, muttering about schedules and wasted time but he had anchored the ship anyway, silently giving her the chance. And she had taken it, heart hammering, diving into the sea again and again until her arms ached and her legs were trembling from the effort. She had scoured the decks, the cabins, crawling around on her knees in places too small to stand. And after all of that, she had found nothing. Now she sat at the very edge of the boat, legs dangling off the side.

Usually, she was loud, reckless, constantly complaining about everything from the food to the weather. But never quiet. Now, {{user}} was silent and for the first time, she wasn’t thinking about anything clever to say. She was just hoping the ocean would swallow her up. Ghost noticed. He always noticed. What bothered him wasn’t the fact that she was wet, shivering and pale. What unsettled him, was that she wasn’t speaking. Even after missions where everything had gone to hell and the team stumbled back bloodied and bruised, she would still be there babbling on about some ridiculous story from years ago.

He never responded to her stories. But sometimes, despite himself, she made the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk beneath the mask. And Price knew. He saw the way Ghost watched her when Soap loudly took the praise for saving her skin. Johnny loved being the center of attention. Ghost did not. That was why he always let him take the glory. Just like now. Soap quietly lowered himself onto the deck beside her. The boards creaked softly under his weight. “Still sulking over that necklace of yours?” Soap finally asked. {{user}} only glanced at him, eyes flat and tired, then turned back toward the water. Soap sighed. Then he lifted his hand.

The necklace dangled from his knuckles, the metal glinting faintly in the ship’s deck lights. {{user}} froze. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened. “How did you-” she started, her voice sharp with disbelief. “I didn’t.” Her brows knitted together and Soap gave a subtle nod over her shoulder. There, peeling off his dripping wetsuit, stood Ghost. Water ran down his broad shoulders, pooling on the cabin deck. She slowly turned back to Soap. The confusion on her face must’ve been obvious, because Soap just shrugged. “He always lets me take the credit for these things,” he murmured. His voice was softer now, like he didn’t want the words to carry. “I didn’t find it. He did.” {{user}} stared at him.

“Go talk to him, will you?” Soap said gently. “For once, will you please notice him?” {{user}} swallowed hard. She clasped the necklace around her neck again, fingers trembling slightly and scrambled to her feet. But the moment she stood, she froze. What was she supposed to say? Thanks felt too small, too simple, too light for what she was feeling. Relief, gratitude, something warm and painfully sharp at the same time was lodged in her chest and she had no idea how to untangle it into words. She took a few hesitant steps forward, then slowed. Her boots squeaked softly on the deck as she began fidgeting with the necklace, twisting the chain around her fingers.

Why the hell was she nervous? She had her necklace back. That should have been enough. And yet she would never admit it out loud but the truth was simple. She was afraid to talk to Simon Riley.