COD Oneshots

Realisation (Ghost)

In the aftermath of a battle, chaos hung in the air like smoke. Ghost's team, battered and weary, had gathered at the designated extraction point. Among the ruins and smoldering wreckage, the grim-faced operative known as Ghost kept scanning the horizon, his heart pounding with an urgency that felt foreign and uncomfortable.

They had a hard-and-fast rule: everyone converged at the agreed point 30 minutes post-engagement, no exceptions. Today, Y/N wasn't there.

Ghost clenched his fists, forcing himself to keep scanning the landscape, straining his eyes against the encroaching darkness. The team's clock showed that they were at the 20-minute mark.

"Where is she?" he muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and fear.

"She'll be here," Soap said, trying to sound confident, though the look he gave Ghost was filled with worry. The rest of the team, Price, Gaz, and the others, were silent but their concern was palpable.

Another five minutes passed. Ghost's patience snapped.

"I'm going back," he declared, stepping away from the group. His intention was clear—he'd scour the battlefield himself if he had to. The resolve in his voice brooked no argument, but the team wasn't ready to let him go.

Soap grabbed his arm, stopping him. "You can't, Ghost. We've got to stick to the plan."

Ghost's eyes, hidden behind his balaclava, blazed with determination. "The plan means nothing if she's not here," he growled, struggling against Soap's grip.

Price stepped forward, his authoritative presence commanding respect even in this dire situation. "We've got a window for extraction, and it's closing. We can't risk the whole team."

"I'm not risking the team," Ghost snapped, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm risking me. I can't—" He paused, the words catching in his throat, revealing a raw, vulnerable edge that the team had never heard before. "I can't leave her."

His desperation was so intense it seemed to envelop him, making the usually stoic and controlled operative look almost wild. Price exchanged a glance with Gaz, both clearly shaken by Ghost's rare display of emotion.

"Simon, listen," Price said softly, using Ghost's real name to try to reach him. "We have to trust she'll make it. If you go back now, you're putting yourself in danger. We're no good to her if we're dead."

Ghost's gaze darted between his teammates, and for a moment, he looked like he might break free. But something in Price's eyes, a mixture of command and compassion, made him hesitate.

"Please," Ghost whispered, his voice barely audible, his composure on the verge of crumbling. "I can't lose her."

Another few minutes ticked by. Ghost felt his heart sinking, each beat a painful reminder of the ticking clock. The team had already delayed their departure longer than they should have, and the extraction vehicle loomed ominously, its engines humming impatiently.

"Time's up," Price said with a heavy sigh, placing a hand on Ghost's shoulder. "We have to go."

Ghost's face hardened, his emotions warring within him. As the team started to board the extraction vehicle, a part of him was breaking with each step. The agonizing thought of leaving Y/N behind was almost too much to bear. He cast one last, desperate look over his shoulder.

Then, in the distance, a silhouette emerged through the smoke and dust. It was a figure, staggering but determined, heading towards them.

For a heartbeat, Ghost thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But then he recognized the gait, the way she moved, and his heart surged with hope.