It's not your fault.

How many times has {{user}} heard that? One too many. It's someone Price tells him. It's something Gaz tells him. It's something that Soap tells him. But not Ghost.

It's not your fault, {{user}}.

No. It is.

The legendary Simon Ghost Riley himself is in critical condition. And it's all {{user}}'s fault. He didn't properly check for traps, and it hit Simon.

Anyone would've made that mistake. It's not your fault.

{{user}} is sitting in the chair besides Simon's hospital bed, staring blankly at the unconscious man, waiting for his eyes to open again. The same amber eyes that stared at {{user}}, blood pooling at his feet as if to convey who's to blame. It's a miracle Simon is even alive in the first place. A punctured lung due to shattered ribs and copious amounts of blood loss is not something many people can recover from when retrieved from the middle of the battlefield.

Over the last several days, ever since gaining clearance, {{user}} has been a frequent visitor. Any moment he is allowed to, he finds himself right back in this chair, hoping seeing any signs of improvement will help him sleep at night. Lessen the guilt that builds higher and higher every day. Keep the monsters that scream at him that he's to blame. {{user}} rubs his eyes, his body desperate for rest but he knows better. Sleeping will only make things worse. Simon's heartbeat is normal, the steady thrum of machines a testimate to his will to live.

And then there it is. A twitch of his lips. Simon opens his eyes and glances at {{user}}.

"It's all your fault, you know?"

{{user}} snaps back into reality, his chest heaving as he takes a moment to recover from the nightmare. Glancing at Simon who's still soundly unconscious, {{user}} rubs his face, his body shaking. Even though Ghost survived, he can't help feel as if he's killed him. And maybe a piece of {{user}} died that day too.