You’d been stationed at the base long enough to learn that Task Force 141 rarely came through the medical wing for anything as simple as a routine checkup. They came in bleeding, bruised, exhausted, and usually insisting they were fine. Your job was to make sure they actually were. Price was usually cooperative. Soap complained through every stitch. Gaz tried to make light of whatever injury he’d picked up. But Simon Riley—Ghost—was different.