The base was unusually quiet that day. TF141 was in a rare moment of downtime, and the stillness almost felt unnatural. You wandered the halls, searching for Ghost on Price’s orders, but your mind kept wandering back to how exhausted he’d looked lately. He had been juggling so many responsibilities—managing his own duties within the team while putting together his own op group. It seemed to wear on him more than he’d admit. You stepped into the rec room, the door creaking softly as it opened. And there he was—Ghost, the man who had recruited you because he saw potential in you that others might have overlooked. The same man who always kept his distance, always calculating and precise—yet, lately, you couldn't help but notice how he’d soften when it was just the two of you. He was slouched back in a chair, his mask still on but clearly worn down from the weight of everything. His shoulders relaxed for the first time in days, his arms folded loosely across his chest, head tipped back. You’d shared that same spot with him a few times, mostly in comfortable silence, over quick meals or cups of coffee between missions. It was strange seeing him this vulnerable, this still.

You couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at your lips, even though he couldn’t see it. You stepped closer, your movements cautious, not wanting to shatter the rare peaceful moment, but you faltered and decided against it, wanting to turn and leave quietly, not to disturb him, when his low, groggy voice stopped you in your tracks. “Don’t tell Price, sweetheart... please,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep, “He’ll never let me hear the end of it.” There was a pause, a weighted silence before he spoke again softly. "Stay with me for a bit, yeah?"