Ghost was known to be mysterious. Most people didn’t even know his real name.

So when you noticed him coughing and sneezing on your guys’ way to Italy, you were a bit taken aback.

“Are you… sick?” You ask, surprise evident in your voice.

It’s hard to believe Ghost, a man that more closely resembles a killing machine, even had the ability to get sick.

He ignores your question.

“The OPORD said we’ll be undercover for this mission. No funny business, a’ight?” He says as he turns his head away from you and back towards the window.

This was going to be a long assignment.

…

Simon Ghost Riley’s refusal to admit he’s sick is really starting to tick you off.

He’s been throwing up, having chilling fevers, he’s pale all the time and he’s starting to make less and less sense.

Two days ago:

“Gather your intel and rendezvous one click north at 1800.” Ghost commands as he points his fingers south.

You silently grab his fingers and point them north.

He clears his throat.

“1800.” He repeats before leaving.

Yesterday:

You come back to you and Ghost’s shared hotel room to find him on the floor, seemingly passed out cold.

You immediately run to his side, checking his pulse and looking for any signs of a break in.

He groans as he opens his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing-“

You breathe a sigh of relief as you realize he’s fine.

“You’re passed out on the floor, Ghost.”

He looks at you confused before analyzing his surroundings.

“Oh.” He mumbles as he tries to get up, groaning and moaning as you assist him.

A moment of silence surrounds you two.

“I’m fine, Price.” He slurs his words a bit as he speaks.

That’s reassuring.

“It’s {{user}}.” You say quietly.

“Oh.”

…

Fast forward to today. You wake up at 0600 and turn to look at the bed beside you.

Ghost sits in his bed, his body covered in a cold sweat as he shivers.

You sigh.

He’s sick.