Contagious || Ghost x Fem

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

The crisp morning air greeted you as you stepped outside for shooting training. Soap was meticulously cleaning his gun as you talked to him. "I thought we were getting somewhere, breaking the ice or something, but no," you muttered, frustration evident in your voice. "It felt like he was only talking to me to get information out of me." Soap paused in his task, glancing up at you. His expression was unreadable as he listened to your words. After a moment, he nodded, a silent acknowledgment of your concerns. "He came to me asking about Price's family tree and how he's looking for information on you and him," Soap revealed calmly, his tone measured.

A wave of apprehension washed over you as Soap's words sank in. The realization that Ghost was digging into your background and seeking information about your past sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't just a casual inquiry; it was a calculated effort to uncover the secrets you had worked so hard to conceal. Fear crept into your thoughts as you contemplated the implications. Would Ghost discover where you came from? How you ended up in the SAS? The uncertainty of what he might uncover about your past left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. 

As Soap began loading his gun, his words hung in the air, a subtle undercurrent of tension woven into the conversation. "But hey, there should be nothing to worry about. I'm sure you and Price aren't hiding anything, right?" he inquired, the click of the gun being cocked punctuating his statement. You paused, a knot forming in your stomach as you grappled with Soap's question. The weight of his words bore down on you, the implication clear: if there was nothing to hide, why the concern? "Serpent?" Soap's voice broke through your thoughts, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for a response. You swallowed hard, the unease settling in as you met Soap's gaze. "Yea... right," you finally replied, the words heavy with resignation and a hint of bitterness.

As the shooting training commenced, you focused intensely, your concentration unwavering as you took aim and fired at the targets with precision. Each shot rang out crisply, hitting its mark with accuracy, earning nods of approval from Soap and the other members of the team. "Damn, Serpent, you're a sharpshooter," Soap remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" You took a moment to reload your weapon before responding, the memories of your past experiences flooding back. "I've been shooting guns for years, even as a kid," you explained, the words carrying a weight of nostalgia and determination. "And training in the SAS helped refine my skills."

The rhythm of the training continued, the repetitive motions of loading, aiming, and firing melding into a seamless flow. With each shot, you felt a sense of familiarity and expertise, honed through years of practice and dedication. As the targets were riddled with bullet holes, a testament to your marksmanship, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you caught a movement, a shadowy figure emerging from the periphery of your vision. Startled, you turned to see Ghost standing there, his presence unexpected and somewhat unsettling amidst the controlled chaos of the shooting range.

"Price asked for you," Ghost stated simply, his voice cutting through the din of gunfire. His demeanor was as stoic as ever, his expression unreadable behind his mask. The abruptness of his appearance and the gravity of his message sent a jolt of apprehension through you. Price summoning you was unusual, and the implications of the request weighed heavily on your mind. Was it related to Ghost's earlier inquiries about your background? Or was it something entirely different? With a nod of acknowledgment to Ghost, you quickly set aside your weapon and made your way to Price's office, your thoughts racing with the possibilities of what awaited you.

You approached Price's office door with a sense of trepidation, your knuckles rapping softly against the wood as you awaited permission to enter. The familiar voice of your superior rang out from within, commanding you to come in. Pushing the door open slowly, you stepped into the dimly lit room, the atmosphere heavy with tension. Price sat behind his desk, his posture rigid and his expression stern. Without preamble, he gestured towards the chair opposite him, a silent instruction for you to take a seat. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you complied, sinking into the chair and meeting Price's gaze with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "What's up?" you ventured, the question hanging in the air as you waited for Price to speak. In response, Price's voice was clipped and direct, devoid of its usual warmth. "Ghost is asking questions," he stated bluntly, his tone leaving no room for interpretation.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as you processed Price's words. "Ghost is asking questions?" you repeated, a hint of fear tingeing your voice as if you didn't already know. Price's expression remained inscrutable as he nodded in confirmation. "Yes, he's been poking around, asking about backgrounds, histories. He knows someone from the inside is leaking intel," he explained, his tone grave. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you contemplated the implications of Ghost's investigations. What could he possibly be searching for? And more importantly, what did he hope to find? You couldn't shake the feeling of being under a microscope, each word and action scrutinized for any hint of deception. "I understand," you replied.

Price's tone grew more serious, his words weighted with concern. "If he finds out, it puts everyone in jeopardy," he emphasized, his gaze piercing as he met your eyes. "What I did is extremely illegal, lying to the Americans about an American child." Price leaned forward, his expression earnest as he continued to explain the severity of the situation. "Concealing information, especially regarding a matter as sensitive as national security, carries severe consequences," he elaborated, his voice conveying urgency. "If Ghost were to uncover the truth, it could lead to serious charges, possibly imprisonment." The weight of Price's words hung heavy in the air, the realization sinking in that Ghost's relentless pursuit of the truth posed a significant threat not only to Price but to the entire team.

You voiced your confusion, the furrow in your brow deepening as you struggled to comprehend Ghost's pursuit of information. "I don't understand why he's poking around my files in the first place," you admitted, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I haven't said or done anything to seem guilty." Price listened attentively, his expression thoughtful as he processed your words. Leaning back in his chair, puffing on a cigar, his gaze distant as he contemplated the situation. The weight of Ghost's investigation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room. After a moment of silence, Price spoke, his voice measured yet tinged with urgency. "He observes people," he explained, his words carrying a sense of caution. "We need to be careful how we talk and act towards each other." The implications of Price's words were clear: every interaction, every word spoken, could potentially be scrutinized by Ghost. "Then why isn't anything being done about this mole?" You said crossing your arms. "We're working on it Y/N. It's not that simple."

The realization that you had to conceal the truth about your relationship with Price, the man who had raised you, stung deeply. He had been more than just a mentor; he had been a father figure, guiding you through life's challenges with wisdom and compassion. The thought of having to hide that connection, to deny the depth of your relationship, felt like a betrayal of the bond you shared. As you rose from your seat, the weight of the situation hung heavy on your shoulders. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, maybe one day we'll be able to reveal the truth but for now it's too risky especially since we're working closely with Americans." 

With a heavy heart, you turned to leave, the feeling of the unspoken truths pressing down on you like a leaden cloak. As you exited Price's office, his apology lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the sacrifices required by duty and loyalty. Though the road ahead was fraught with obstacles, you resolved to remain steadfast in your resolve, trusting that one day, the truth would be revealed, and the bonds of kinship could be openly acknowledged once more. 

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