Part Forty-Three: Discernment

                                    

                                          
A few days pass while Ghost and Farah take time to heal and rest up. Once everyone is in fighting condition again we decide it's time to take our leave.
The last few days have been, well, interesting to say the least. Ghost and I have only talked briefly as I've been taking some space for myself. 
Avoiding him, I suppose. 
It's just that the air around him feels different. 
Or maybe I've just forgotten how to breathe.
Tomorrow we leave Iran and head back to 141 headquarters. Once we settle things back home we're going to head straight for Chicago to obtain the third and final missile. 
Ghost agreed to come to Chicago, not so much for the missile but to take out Shepherd and the Shadows. 
A part of me doesn't want Ghost to go to Chicago but I can't quite say why.
I start packing my bags in my room at the temporary base until I hear a knock on my door. Before I can respond the door opens and there stands Ghost.
I look at him for a few moments but then return to packing my bags.
"You've been avoiding me," he says matter-of-factly, confronting me. 
"I have not," I say dismissively. 
"You have. Now you're going to tell me why," he demands.
This motherfucker.
"Ha, who are you to make such demands?" I scoff, arching a brow.
"I don't have the time or energy for your tantrums. Answer my question. Why are you avoiding me?" Ghost asks, his tone stern.
With one swift and disdained look, I say, "Go fuck yourself", and continue packing.
Within seconds I feel a hand on my shoulder, turning me in the opposite direction.
"Don't touch me," I growl.
"Don't ignore me," he growls back.
"I-I just need space," I sigh, flustered.
Ghost takes a deep breath and removes his hand from my shoulder.
"Because of the girl?" He crosses his arms against his broad chest, his stance defensive. 
"Darya."
"What?" If I could see under his mask I know he'd be sketching a brow.
"Her name was Darya." I snarl. 
Ghost overdramatically rolls his eyes, packing on the emphasis. "You didn't know her," he says coldly.
"And? She was still a person. An innocent child who deserved to live..." I say breathlessly and I can feel my face growing warm.
"It was her or the mission," Ghost deadpans. 
"Bullshit," I hiss, slamming the item of clothing I was about to pack into my bag, messing up the clothes I already packed.
Goddammit. I'll have to start all over now...
"Don't make it personal." Ghost's tone is icy.
"Excuse me?" I snap.
"He made a good point," Ghost scoffs, being cryptic with his wording so I can ask him a follow-up question.
I fall for his trap, naturally.
"He?" I stop packing for the time being and cross my arms.
"Hassan," he sighs, pausing. "You didn't get upset about Darya or kill Hassan for the sake of the mission. You did those things because you convinced yourself that saving that little girl and killing Hassan would somehow right all the wrongs in your life. That it would somehow heal your wounds."