Ghost always had a soft spot for you. Ever since you were born, the dark and cold character of Ghost crumbled. Completely.

It was you. You were his. His blood, DNA. He was your father, you was his child. You was such a bubbly and sweet little kid, you got along with everyone.

Now you’re 15. You got cancer last year. No one knew if you’d make it or not, but then the doctors said you could have a lung transplant that could potentially save you, but not make your cancer go away completely, not yet anyways.

So, here you sit, in a hospital bed, squeezing your father’s hand tightly. You was terrified, all sorts of thoughts filling your mind. ‘What if I don’t wake up?’ ‘What if something goes wrong?’ Ghost wouldn’t let that happen. Not to you, but his kid.

“You’ll be alright, {{user}}..” he whispered softly as he kissed you on the forehead, gently rubbing the back of your hand. Soap, Price and Gaz had tagged along to the hospital, everyone wanting to make sure you felt as safe and supported as possible. Ghost glanced up as the doctors and surgeons walked in, it looked like they were getting ready to put you to sleep.