Solo missions were always the hardest.

Out there, you had no backup—only your instincts, your training, and the quiet determination that told you to keep pushing forward. When comms failed, when the world around you turned silent, you had only yourself to rely on.

But that was also why you loved your job. The rush of adrenaline, the sharp focus that came with knowing every move mattered. And most of all, the voice in the back of your mind whispering that you had something to return to.

By the time you made it back to base, exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. No—exhaustion was an understatement. You were drained. Every muscle in your body ached, but despite the pull of your bed, there was someone you needed to see first.

Ghost.

Maybe your relationship with him wasn’t exactly romantic—not in a traditional sense, anyway—but that didn’t stop you from missing him.

You expected to find him in his quarters, but as you passed by the mess hall, you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure.

He was sitting on one of the worn-out sofas, his leg bouncing slightly in an unconscious display of restlessness. His posture was tense, shoulders squared, jaw tight. Whatever was on his mind had him so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice when you stepped inside.

Not until you slid onto the couch beside him, tucking yourself into his side without hesitation.

"Missed me, huh?" you teased, cutting through the silence before he could react.

Ghost rolled his eyes. "Piss off," he muttered, but the weight in his gaze told you everything his words didn’t.

The tension in his body eased, his muscles relaxing against you. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just staring straight ahead—until his arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you in closer.

"Come here," he murmured, voice dropping to a low whisper.

There was something in the way he held you, like he needed to make sure you were real. Like if he let go, you might disappear again.

And you knew—even if he’d never say it out loud—that he was glad you were back.