Between missions, Ghost's flat felt empty, lifeless. He would get a gnawing ache in his chest when he was left alone for too long. While picking up his mail from the lobby of his complex, he spotted a flyer on the community board: the local animal shelter, overrun with pets needing homes, even if only temporary. He could do that.

It started to become a habit. After returning from a deployment, he would go to the shelter the very next day with a pet carrier and a leash to foster one of the adoptable animals. He liked getting the ones that were stressed out by the busy shelter, ones that just needed a little peace and quiet for a while.

--

The shelter volunteers usually give him dogs, but occasionally, he comes home with a cat. Like he did a few days ago. At least he thinks so; he hasn't even seen you since you bolted from the carrier the first day he brought you home. The food and water bowls are emptied every day, and the litter box is being used, so you're around here somewhere.

He doesn't bother you, doesn't try to crawl under his bed and drag you out, doesn't even call out your name except in the evenings when he refills your bowls. He just lets you exist with him.

He's dozing off on the couch, watching some re-runs of an old television show when he suddenly feels the the weight of one tentative paw on his leg. Then another, then all four paws, softly padding across his body to curl up on his chest. He stays as still as possible and ever-so-slowly reaches up to gently stroke the soft fur of your back.