Chapter Text
"You're not renewing your contract," Ghost has never been keen on beating around the bush. Price is used to that, used to the sharp look in his lieutenant's eye that asks 'what are you keeping off the record and should I do the same?' There have been enough times that they've had to scramble in the dark without the cushion of military contracts, everything less than official in order to achieve the impossible, that he should have expected the look.
"I'm retiring," Price tells him, tugs open the corner drawer of his desk to fish for a cigar. The scrape of wood echoes through his office. Simon fidgets, a short flick of his nails against the pads of his fingers that is quickly stopped by Ghost's clenching fists.
"Retiring," Ghost repeats, feels the word out like he's never heard it before, "didn't know men like us retired." Price hums, clicking his lighter with a growing frustration, fucking military grade bullshit. Ghost flicks his lighter on, and holds it out for his captain. Price takes a moment with his cigar, letting the flame burn just a little long before Ghost flips the lid shut.
"When's the last time you slept?" He asks instead of rising to the obvious, if self deprecating, bait.
"Last night." The answer comes just a second too quick. Practiced. It's a standard question from the psych eval Price knows good and god damn well Ghost's been lying on for years. The kind of scars he's got...
"Really?" Price isn't asking, he lowers his cigar and exhales heavily, feels some of the tension melt off his shoulders, "I didn't." Ghost doesn't blink.
"Don't see how, they just keep makin' the barrack beds more comfortable." He jokes, the deadpan tone a distraction from his underlying agreement. Price would bet Ghost hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years. It won't be any better with him gone.
"Your contract is up about this time isn't it?" Price slides a folder to the side, flips up the edge of Ghost's papers. Same date stamped at the top as his own. It's been like that as long as he can remember. There's never been any question of what was going to happen on that date, except this time around. "What're your plans for that?"
"Renew." Ghost says without an ounce of hesitation.
"Without me?"
Ghost freezes. Price can almost see the gears turning in his head. A new captain, one he can't trust, one who doesn't know who he is or how he works. A new captain that might bring in new people, who might decide he's too much work and have him transferred out of counter terrorism. Who might not let his psych slip pass, who might discharge him for any number of things Price has let go over the years.
Ghost is a good soldier because he trusts him. Someone new? After what happened chasing down Hassan and Makarov, it's anyone's bet how he'll play. Those betrayals still hangs fresh over all of their heads.
"You like animals lieutenant?"
"Animals, sir?" Ghost's head tips forward ever so slightly, the smallest breech in his rigid posture betraying his confusion.
"My wife's family owns a ranch stateside. Would save me the trouble of lookin' for an extra hand if you wanted to change careers." Price leans back in his chair, "Good place to spend your retirement if you like animals."
"When'd you get married?" It's not the most elegant topic change, but it's also not a "no."
"Soon as I saw how shit the barracks were," It's the truth, but it sounds close enough to a joke that anyone else might think it was, "Got a kid too, Goose, you'd like 'er." Ghost grunts, breezing past that one, though Price knows he's carefully filing the information away. Mind like a bear trap that one. There's nothing Price has ever known Ghost to forget.
The two men regard each other across Price's desk. There's a level of trust between them that's carried them to this point, past every roadblock. It's not something that can be built up over night, nor is it one the affords requests lightly. Price has asked a lot of Ghost over the years, both of them understanding that the only way out was through. Now they stand at an impasse. One of them leaving, the other hoping they'll stay.
Ghost doesn't know what he'll be if Price leaves. He doesn't know what he is when he isn't this.
"Simon," Price appeals, leaning forward, "Let me do this for you. Let me get you out before this job kills you. The ranch is nice, it's quiet, you'll have your own place, work. You can sleep there."
Ghost is silent for a long moment, his eyes dark, clouded, as they stare Price down. It's anyone's guess what he's thinking. The conversations they've had- Price knows as well --no better-- than anyone that Ghost lives his life waiting for this work to kill him. He can't bury him again. Can't mourn Simon a second time when he knows he could have saved him. Price couldn't be there last time, but now? Today? He can try.
"I'm not babysitting," Ghost says finally. Price smiles, feels the tight anxiety in his chest loosen a little.
"Who? Goose?" He chuckles, shakes his head, "Doubt you'll get the chance to meet 'er, but I'll make sure she knows not to bother you."
-
Price's wife picks them up at the airport and gives Price a quick(lengthy) kiss(they make out in front of the terminal) before running to catch her doctors without borders flight. Ghost loads the bags into the truck while he waits on them. The first thing he says when Price gets in the car is, "Was that the red cross doctor from-?"
"Yep."
Ghost tugs his mask uncomfortably, not sure what to do as Price navigates them away from the airport and onto the road. He supposes that makes more sense than Price being a homewrecker, also makes sense as to how she would've known to leave him be about the mask. Price fiddles with the radio, trying to find a decent radio station, mutters about it all being country out here. Ghost rolls the window down to breathe in the fresh air, watch the roll of pastures as the sun goes down.
When they get to the ranch Ghost eyes the "141" hung over the gate, feels a little on the nose. Price tells him he'll give him a tour in the morning, shows him the back house, and invites him back to the main house for a drink. Ghost does his best not to snoop, and enjoys the first decent home cooked meal he's had in years. Then stumbles back to the little back house he will eventually call home, barricades the door, and spends the night staring down the silent farm outside the window, wondering if he's just made the worst mistake of his life.