Price's voice was less than a murmur across the room and Ghost was trying to train his ears on the conversation. Laswell's team was still looking for the missile, and privately, he was grateful; it gave them more time to wait for Novaleen before they had to leave. But as the morning bled into day, and day into evening, he found his feet carrying him up and down the sterile halls in slow figure eights, the wait becoming unbearable. Now and then he stopped to watch the door in case it would open and the surgeon would finally have word on her condition. But every time, he would return to his pacing, no update to be heard.

He looked up to the clock and saw the hands pointing just past 16:00. She had been in surgery for five hours. Only then did he notice the ache in his knees from the walking, but he couldn't stop. Not until he heard something.

"L.T." Soap stood before him to drag his attention away from the surgery room door. "You're gonna wear a hole in the floor. You need to rest."

"Can't. I need to know she made it."

"And you will," he continued. "But for now, walkin' yourself to death isn't gonna help. Get yourself a coffee and go sit down."

He was hesitant, but slowly moved his feet toward the waiting area and settled into one of the chairs. It was as comfortable as a stone and his restless legs made it more unbearable. But he remained still, letting his thoughts wander. Saving Novaleen two years ago. Meeting her again a year later. The last few days. The missiles. Hassan's death. Graves' death.

Novaleen laying motionless in that container.

It nearly stopped his heart and he found himself gasping awake. He hadn't realized he had dozed off. But now that he was awake again, he blinked away a sting in his eyes. There was a rushing in his temples and he furiously stared at the front desk opposite him, watching it blur as his eyes misted over.

"You're serious..."

The surgeon nodded his head slowly. "Where's Lieutenant Riley? I can break the news-"

"I'd like to tell him, sir, if you don't mind." The surgeon agreed silently and turned back down the corridor as Soap made his way toward the waiting room. How would he say it? Should he start casual and ease into it? Or just come right out and say-

"She's gone."

Soap started upon hearing Ghost's voice cut into his thoughts. "Sir...?"

He hadn't moved from his seat and he had fallen so still he almost looked like a statue. "Novaleen... she's gone, isn't she?"

"Wh- I... I didn't..." Soap lost his nerve and couldn't gather his words quickly enough. "L.T..."

Ghost's eyes were crushingly heavy and his shoulders slumped as if weighed down by his heart. He wanted to know everything. And at the same time he didn't want to hear a word about it. He couldn't even open his mouth to ask. He simply waited silently for an answer.

Soap's throated tightened and he cleared it, determined to speak without choking. "Ghost, she's out of surgery. Surgeon says she won't be on her feet for a while, but she's gonna be okay."

He stood up frighteningly quickly, his eyes rounded. "Is she awake yet?"

"They have her in a medical coma so she can recover..."

"Can I at least see her?"

Soap looked uncertainly down the hall. "You'd have to ask the surgeon, but..." Before he could finish his thought, Ghost was halfway to the surgery room doors looking for the surgeon, who froze upon seeing the skull mask.

"Señor?- Sir?"

"La mujer ¿está despierta?- The woman, is she awake?"

The surgeon nodded and gestured to a room further down the hall. "Sí, pero no estará despierta hasta dentro de una hora...- yes, but she won't be awake for another hour..."

"Fine by me."

As he swept past the man, Soap rushed up next to him, his brows set low on his blue eyes. "You could speak Spanish this whole time??"

"What about it?"

"Why am I the last to know everything you know?" Ghost motioned him to be quiet with a finger to his lips and Soap's frown deepened. "And why are you always hushin' me when I ask about not knowin' things...?"

As he opened the door, they looked in to see Novaleen hooked to IVs and monitors, her eyes still closed and her chest rising and falling slowly. Soap sighed and motioned with his head into the room. "Go on, L.T. I'll be out here."

"And for your information," Ghost murmured as he stepped inside. "You pick it up when you're held in a Mexican prison."

The room felt like it was throbbing around her. She couldn't remember being moved, but she definitely knew she wasn't in the container anymore. It was too cool and comfortable. Something was wrapped tightly around her hand, and with a strain, she opened her swollen eyes to see a larger hand around it. A man was seated next to her bed, resting his face on his free hand. His golden brown hair was mussed between his fingers and his long, chiseled jaw was slacked. His eyelids were smeared with black, and in his lap lay a black and white balaclava.

"... Ghost?"

Simon's eyes opened and he lifted his head. "You're up..."

"You're not wearing your mask..."

He looked away, his brows pinched together. "Yeah, well... it was getting stuffy anyway." She smiled softly, trying to roll to her side when she felt a lacing pain under her ribs. He reached out and settled her onto her back again. "Careful, careful... You're still hurt."

"I noticed." Novaleen was quiet for a time before sitting up abruptly. "... Where's Graves?" His mouth curved down; he didn't have to say a word and she felt her throat knot up. "I should have known..." She covered her eyes and laid back once more, taking a deep, shaking breath. "Why did he have to do this?"

"He and Shepherd made poor choices. And kept making them to cover their tracks..." He held her hand close to his mouth, resting his lips on the back of his own hand. "I'm sorry, Novaleen."

"You shouldn't be. He attacked you first."

"I shouldn't have left you there."

"He would have captured you if you stayed."

"He nearly killed you after I left." He couldn't meet her green eyes and sighed. "I wish I had taken you with me."

She grinned reassuringly and squeezed his hand. "Well, you got me back and I'm not dead. You're two for two now." Simon chuckled and she was taken aback. "You're acting different..."

"I feel different. I've had some realisations the last few days. Changed my perspective."

"Perspective on what?"

He stroked her fingertips, quietly contemplating his words. "I'm used to watching my own back. Putting the mission first. I don't get attached because it makes it easier to move on when there's loss. But I'm realising now that I can't operate that way." His eyes finally settled on hers. "I care about the people around me, whether I want to admit it or not. And I can't keep them at arm's length because I'm afraid of losing them."

There was a stirring in her heart and she propped herself upright. "Simon..."

"Ghost." Price tapped on the door as he stepped inside. He paused, seeing his mask off, and cleared his throat uneasily. "Sorry to interrupt; ee need to get to Chicago, ASAP."

"We find that missile?" 

"Still working on it, but we got something worse..." He turned his phone to them to reveal the silhouette of a man, his only defining feature being his reflective aviator shades. Around him were about a dozen men armed with AK-47s and Scimitar swords.

"Three days ago, we lost contact with our General, Hassan Zyani, last seen in Las Almas, Mexico. In a case such as this, General Zyani has ordered us to presume he is dead. In his absence, I, Khalid Al Assad, am taking his place.

"Two months ago, the United States lost three ballistic missiles. Rest assured, they've been found! In our possession. We have one of those missiles somewhere in the US. I am demanding a full formal surrender by the president of the United States and all operatives involved in the death of our former leader within 24 hours. We will then deal swiftly with you and enslave your women and children. But if we hear nothing in that time...

"We will wipe the west off the face of the earth."

Novaleen was white with dread. "How old is that video...?"

"13 minutes."

"Means we have 23 hours and 46 to find and destroy that last missile," said Ghost. "Let's move." As they left the room, he turned back to look at her. "I'll be back, Novaleen. I promise."