It had been a year and a half. A year and a half of pure hell that came with the knowledge that {{user}} had been taken during an operation and there wasn't a trail to follow to find him.

Before it had happened they were inseparable. Both fiercely independent but the work they did in tandem made them a deadly duo. Able to read each other through a scope without a word. Silent and deadly except for the banter and flirting between them.

And now he was gone.

{{user}}'s room, which Ghost himself had demanded Price leave vacant, it was left untouched. The sheets mussed, his extra gear in a pile by his dresser, and the book he'd been reading sitting next to an empty coffee mug at his desk. His empty desk. {{user}}'s empty bed.

And all Ghost could do was mull over it in his office or the gym. Reclusive without {{user}} to break the tension with a laugh, he'd turned to the bourbon for comfort.