A particularly strong drink later, one moment you were dancing with your girl friends, having a good time, and the next you were stumbling to the bathroom, unable to get the world to stop spinning. Someone grabbed your arm, hurriedly leading you to what seemed like the exit of the club you were at, presumably to get you some fresh air - it was a blur. The next thing you knew, this person was pushed away from you, there was chaos, some shouting and a familiar figure angrily pulling you into his car.

It was the next morning when you were finally conscious of yourself, the night out on your day off not seeming such a bright idea anymore. It took you a few moments to realise you weren't alone in your quarters, or that you had safely returned at all, let alone the fact that the rest of the task force was there. The men sleeping in various awkward positions, perched on random furniture about the room. Not Ghost though, he was tucked in right beside you, shamelessly taking up more than half the bed, stirring when he realised you'd woken up too.

"You were roofied." He yawned, the statement casual as if it explained why they were all here or how he even knew to come get you. He stretches out his limbs, taking up more space on the bed while you stared. You had so many questions.

Little did you know, Ghost was at a crossroads, wondering if this would be a good time to tell you they'd been keeping tabs on their dear task force member for ages by tracking your phone. It was for your own safety after all.