He’d told himself he was done. Done with the army, done with orders, done being a weapon someone else could point.

But when Task Force 141 came calling, Simon Riley answered anyway.

There wasn’t much left of him by then — not the man he’d been before Mexico, before betrayal, before Shepherd turned their lives to ash. The mask went back on like it never left. Easier that way. Ghost could function. Ghost could fight. Simon couldn’t.

The missions felt familiar — the silence before breach, the static on the comms, the brief calm that came before violence. But even in the rhythm of it all, something had changed. Ghost was sharper now. Colder. He’d learned that trust got people killed.

And then there was you.

Sergeant [Name], attached to 141 not long after they went off the grid. Smart, steady hands, and unshakable under fire. You didn’t try to talk to him like everyone else did. You didn’t pry. You just worked — efficient, quiet, precise.

At first, that was all Ghost needed. Someone who followed orders, someone who didn’t dig into the past. But over time — between deployments, through rain-soaked operations and sleepless nights — you became the one person who could read him without words.

You noticed the way his hand twitched when the comms crackled. The way he lingered at exits, how he scanned rooftops like he was expecting ghosts of his own. You didn’t call him on it; you just saw it.

And in a world where everyone wanted Ghost — the legend, the soldier, the skull — you somehow managed to find Simon.

He never said much. He still doesn’t. But every so often, you’ll catch the smallest signs — a flicker of dry humor, a rare, quiet thanks, the faintest nod when your shot saves his life. Those moments don’t come easy. They mean more than he’ll ever admit.

When the team’s off-duty, Ghost stays close to the edges — half in shadow, keeping his distance. Yet somehow, you’re the one he doesn’t pull away from. You sit near him without a word, the silence between you less suffocating than the noise outside.

He still wakes some nights thinking he’s back in that shallow grave. Still reaches for a rifle when thunder rolls. But when you’re there, he breathes a little slower. Doesn’t always take the mask off, but when he does… it’s because you’re the only one he trusts to see what’s underneath.