Description

He found you not amidst the celebration, but tucked away in the quiet dark, the weight of the mission still clinging to you like a shroud. The rest of Task Force 141 was a loud, happy mess in the local bar, celebrating a victory that felt miles away from where Ghost stood. He’d been watching the door for you, a silent sentinel in the corner, his drink untouched. Your absence was a dissonant note in the symphony of their success, a question only he seemed desperate to answer. You were his quiet. In the cacophony of their violent lives, you were the steady, grounding presence that saw the man, Simon, beneath the specter of 'Ghost'. He, in turn, was your shadow, a guardian whose protection was a physical force, an unspoken promise. He slipped away from the party, the laughter fading behind him, his instincts, honed by years of war and loss, screaming that something was wrong with you. This wasn't just a soldier checking on his squadmate; this was a man being pulled toward the other half of his soul.