After a few more droppers of milk, Lucky stopped accepting the food and cuddled down in Roach's palm with a small meow, closing her eyes and curling into a ball. Ghost was glad that his mask hid his face, because despite how hard of a soldier he was, the sight made the edges of his eyes wrinkle as he suppressed a smile. Even though giving the kitten shelter was done begrudgingly, the sleeping feline brought the slightest grin to his face. Roach smiled and set the dropper down, keeping Lucky close to him, running a finger across the top of her head gently.

"So, boss, what are we going to do with her? We can't just stick her in here somewhere and leave." Yet another problem that Ghost knew he had to face. There had to be some box somewhere on base, he could fill the bottom with some old clothes, and stick it under the desk or in the closet. It would keep Lucky safe and isolated, with less risk to her. That would have to do until Ghost figured out exactly what to do with her.

"Stay here with her, don't let her out of your sight. I'm going to see if I can grab a box for her or something. Just don't make any trouble, alright?" Ghost growled out, and Roach nodded passively. He seemed more than content with the small animal asleep in his large hands. Sighing, Ghost left the room quickly, and started to work his way down the hall. He had almost gotten out of the barracks when Archer ran into him, a sad expression on his face.

"Hey, Ghost, how are you?" Ghost nodded, mumbling his response, wanting to get one with his task.

"I'm fine. You?" Archer shrugged, looking down at his boots. Ghost really wanted to shove the large sniper out of the way, but knew that he had to sit and listen to whatever he had to say. There was no getting past him, the small doorway almost completely blocked by Archer's shoulders. And it was with that thought that the sniper started to whine in a voice that sent shivers up Ghost's spine.

"I just can't get my mind off that poor cat I ran over earlier. She was so pretty, she had this tabby fur, but it wasn't like, all over. She had all these white spots and was just beautiful. And I killed her. Why didn't I just pay more attention to the road? I could have spared her life. I buried her out by the fence, and I didn't have anything to put on her grave other than some crushed flowers that I found by the range." There was a tremble in his voice, and Ghost thought that if he had paid close attention to Archer's eyes, he would have found them watering. It was unfortunate that Lucky's mother had been killed, but he had to keep an ice cold appearance up for any men that he ran into. Clearing his throat, Ghost barked out a short response before shoving past the man.

"It was just a damn cat, Archer. Get over it. You kill men. This animal should mean nothing to you." Archer provided to resistance when Ghost moved past him, through the door, heading over in the direction of the mess hall. He knew there were boxes from rations or other things somewhere in the kitchen. There were boxes from ammo as well, but he thought that the lead could be harmful to an animal. Couldn't it?

Jogging to the back of the mess hall, Ghost wandered into the question. If Cook was in there, he knew better than to question Ghost. He was the second in command under Soap, and practically had free reign over base. Besides, he wasn't going to be in there for more than a couple of seconds.

Just by the door, there was actually a pile of boxes that hadn't been squished down yet, all of reasonable size and looking relatively clean. Not wanting to take too long, Ghost grabbed the decent sized one that was close to him, and hurried back out the door. His journey back to the barracks was quicker, and he prayed that he wouldn't run into anyone asking why he was carrying a large cardboard box that had once held cans of green beans.

Before he knew it, he was back in his and Roach's room, of which Roach was still holding Lucky. Without a word, Ghost pushed the box under the desk and tossed the old clothes in it. He walked over to Roach and picked the kitten out of his arms, obviously waking her up, even as he handled her gently. Her bones still were obvious, sticking through the downy-like kitten fur, and she cried out softly. Ghost merely ignored the tugging on his heartstrings, and placed her in the box under the desk gently, watching to make sure she got comfortable in the thick layers of old shirts.

Once the kitten was taken care of, Ghost looked at Roach with what were cold eyes, but he knew Roach couldn't tell from behind the red tinted glasses.

"Come on Roach, we have a job to do. We can check on her later."

Thank you for reading the fourth instalment of "The Kitten," which is just over halfway through. I thought this was going to be shorter than it's turning out to be. In either case, to all those in America, enjoy your Memorial Day weekend, and I won't be posting again until Monday. Thanks again!