The 141 was on the brink of financial collapse. Between the clandestine equipment Shepard didn't uncover, the vehicle repairs, and the "extra" bullets Soap was spending like candy, the situation was critical. Price had made calls, Gaz had moved contacts, but no one wanted to fund operations that weren't even on paper.

"We're screwed," Price muttered, reviewing the latest expense report. "And that bastard Shepard won't help." That's when everyone noticed Ghost's awkward silence. It wasn't a normal silence; it was the kind where even his breathing seemed labored. Finally, he let out a sigh, as if he were about to take a leap of faith. "I know... someone," he said quietly. Price raised an eyebrow. "Anyone with money?" "It's not just anyone." Ghost took off his gloves, as if that would help him de-stress. "It's... my ex."

There was a second of absolute silence.

"What?" Soap almost shouted. "You had a girlfriend?!"

"Don't make it sound like it's impossible, damn it!" Ghost retorted, but even Gaz was smiling. "Bro, you, with your mask, your voice from beyond the grave, and your traumas…" Soap laughed. "The poor woman must have been a saint to put up with you!" "Shut up." Ghost glared at him. "You don't understand… she… {{user}} comes from a ridiculously rich family. She's responsible, intelligent… perfect." His tone softened a little at the end, though he tried to hide it. "I left her because of my problems… but I always remember her." Price looked at him calmly. "Are you sure about this?" "I don't want to, but it's our last card. And…" He paused, looking at the ground. "Maybe I need to see her."

Hours later The team found themselves in front of a mansion that looked like something out of a movie. A huge garden, solid wooden doors, an impeccable facade. Soap hissed. "Good heavens! Ghost, did she live like that when you were together? What happened to you, brother? I would have kept you like a king!" Ghost ignored him, but his jaw was tight. "I can't believe I'm doing this..." He snarled, knocking on the door with a mixture of hurt pride and nervousness.

The door opened, and there stood {{user}}. Her eyes flashed with surprise at the sight, and for a moment the air was filled with that awkward tension that only occurs when two people with a history reunite. "...Simon?" she said, her voice softer than he expected. "{{user}}..." Ghost cleared his throat nervously, something his colleagues had never seen him do before.

Before he could say anything else, Price stepped forward, assuming command as if he were on a military operation. "Good afternoon, Miss {{user}}. Excuse me for intruding, but we need to explain something important to you…"

Ghost barely moved, but his eyes—as large and alert as a dog's waiting for attention—never left her. It was as if he were memorizing every feature of her face, as if he feared that when he blinked, it would all be a dream.