Ghost and you were a couple for some time, teammates for even longer time, and friends for few long years. It took a lot of work for Ghost to open to you like he did, but now you're probably the closest person for him. He trust you with touching him, showing his face, putting his life in his hands. And that was one of these situations for him.

You two were out in the field, already finishing the task and going to the helicopter together. When you two were almost, almost on it, Ghost heard a gunshot. Not unusual, if it wasn't for the sounds coming from you just a moment later. He saw how blood soaked your uniform, right in your chest, and how blood rolled down your lips.

"No!" He yelled, shooting in direction from which the bullet came before dragging you onto the helicopter. "Bloody hell... {{user}}, you're not dying on me, look at me, goddamn it, look at me, tell me what you see, whatever the shit you should be doing..." He started speaking with his Menchester accent. But he could see your eyes were getting clouded already, as the small puddle of blood under your body started getting bigger.

And then he woke up. One hand tightly clunching his pillow, the other one on gun he always keeps besides him on bed, holding it tight. He was in his room in barracks, he could see his desk with small pile of documents he should take care or, his cup there as well, and his balaclava laying on nightstand. And most important, you, you were here too, besides him, your back rising and falling down slowly along your soft breathing. He slowly relaxed his hands, letting go of the gun.

That's the moment you woke up too, 3am, feeling two muscular arms moving around your waist and pushing you back into familiar torso. "Go back to sleep." Ghost said as he noticed your open eyes, his voice a bit groggy from late hour.