Contagious || Ghost x Fem

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

The subdued lighting in your room created a quiet ambiance as Ghost leaned against the wall, observing silently as you began the task of bandaging yourself up. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Your struggle with the bandages was evident, and with a touch of frustration, you finally requested, "A little help?" The plea hung in the air, directed at Ghost, who shook his head in a seemingly disinterested refusal. "Why'd you follow me then?" you questioned, a mix of annoyance and curiosity coloring your voice. Ghost, responded with nonchalance, "Just in case you bled out." Sarcasm laced your voice as you retorted, "Oh, thanks."

Completing the bandaging with a nod, you met Ghost's watchful gaze. Observing the state of your room, Ghost couldn't help but comment, "How is your room a mess, and you've only been in it for four days?" His tone held a mixture of bemusement and curiosity. Caught off guard, you looked around at the disarray, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. "I've been rushing around," you explained, the admission hinting at the challenges and demands of the recent days. 

Ghost, his curiosity evident, asked, "You were in the SAS, right?" You nodded in confirmation, and his inquiry continued, "How long ago did you join?" Considering the timeline, you responded, "About seven years ago." Ghost, seemingly puzzled, remarked, "I never saw you around." You shrugged nonchalantly, offering, "Must have not been paying attention." He leaned against a nearby wall, his gaze fixed on you. "Seven years in the SAS, and I never crossed paths with you," he remarked, his tone a mix of contemplation and curiosity. You offered a small, dismissive shrug, "It's a big place. Easy to miss someone." He narrowed his eyes, a subtle challenge in his expression. "Or you managed to stay off the radar deliberately," he suggested. 

"What are you implying?" you asked, crossing your arms defensively. The sudden shift in Ghost's focus on your military history had raised a sense of suspicion. Ghost, rather than answering directly, began to pace, the room's silence amplifying the tension. He pointed out, "Everything from before 5 years ago is redacted in your files. Why?" As Ghost's words echoed in the room, you started getting nervous. Your arms remained crossed, a defensive posture against the probing nature of his questions. "What are you talking about? Redacted files?" you retorted, attempting to downplay the significance of the revelation. The unease in your voice, however, betrayed a sense of vulnerability. Ghost, undeterred, continued to pace, his gaze fixed on you. "I went through your service records. Everything prior to five years ago is marked classified," he stated matter-of-factly. 

As you sought to deflect the inquiry, Ghost pressed further, "Why hide your early years? What's in those redacted files that you don't want anyone to know?" A sigh escaped your lips, and you unfolded your arms, a gesture of resignation. "Some things are better left in the past," you responded, your voice carrying a mix of reluctance and a hint of vulnerability.  "What are you hiding?" he pressed, the directness of his question leaving no room for evasion. The room seemed to shrink as you grappled with safeguarding the concealed chapters of your history. "I'm not hiding anything," you say becoming irritated. Ghost, fueled by determination, closed the distance between you, towering over with an intensity that demanded attention. "You're not hiding anything?" he scoffed, a hint of skepticism coloring his tone.

The accusation lingered in the air, and you felt a surge of frustration. "Are you suggesting I'm a traitor?" you countered, the weight of the accusation challenging the foundation of trust within the team. Ghost's gaze bore into yours, his silence amplifying the gravity of the accusation. The room seemed to tighten around you, shadows from the dim lighting dancing on the walls as the air thickened with tension. "I'm not suggesting anything, sergeant," Ghost retorted, his voice firm. "I'm just saying there's more to your story than you're letting on." The accusation had stirred a storm of emotions within you. "I've served with loyalty and dedication. There's nothing in those files that would suggest otherwise," you declared, your voice carrying a mix of frustration and defense. "Actions speak louder than denials," he asserted, his voice a low rumble. "I've risked my life alongside you, and this is how you repay that trust?" The hurt in your voice added a layer of emotional complexity to the exchange. "Trust is earned, and right now, yours is in question."

With that, Ghost turned on his heel and walked out. His departure left the room in a heavy silence, the weight of unspoken questions lingering. Ghost hadn't anticipated your presence downstairs earlier, but he seized the opportunity to delve into a conversation, seeking more information. His determination to uncover the truth about your past overshadowed any hesitation or remorse. In his world, where trust was a precious commodity, every interaction was a strategic move, a step closer to unraveling the mystery. There was a resolute purpose in Ghost's actions. The belief that not everyone is your friend shaped his approach, and he saw the pursuit of information as a necessity rather than a choice. 

As Ghost retreated from the intense confrontation, his mind began to piece together the puzzle fragments. The conversation with Price, the files marked classified, and the realization that he had never crossed paths with you in the SAS slowly unfolded like a clandestine narrative waiting to be unraveled. The threads of suspicion wound themselves tighter as he considered the implications. The encounter with Price had sparked a curiosity that now intensified into a determined investigation. Ghost couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your story, hidden in the shadows of classified records and carefully guarded interactions. In his office, surrounded by the subdued lighting of the base, Ghost pulled up the files once again. Each line of text, each redacted portion, became a clue in the intricate puzzle. He replayed the conversations in his mind, searching for nuances and inconsistencies that might reveal the truth.

Ghost's mind focused on a singular realization: someone close was leaking intel to the cartel and Hassan. The urgency of the situation propelled him to find the traitor, regardless of the lengths required. 

1044 words