And maybe fate isn’t so cruel, after all.

It takes people out of each other’s lives when one needs them most, ties their destiny in a strange knot and suddenly, they don’t know in which direction will the turn to anynore. But the knot is there, perhaps always will be ; a symbol that it isn’t the end. The end of them, their story.

And it seemed to be only then when Ghost—, no, Simon, had that realisation.

Years later, days after being let go from duty to celebrate the winter holidays back in his hometown, in Manchester. Christmas that the man would for no doubt spend alone, only with memories of years ago to treasure in his mind.

Standing at a red light, honey gaze focused on the white stripes on the road with each car that passed by with the soft snow falling and cradling each person walked past in, no doubt, a rush to get somewhere.

Only momentarily did his eyes lift from the cold ground, perhaps to take a look at the surroundings for the millionth time. As if she didn’t know the city like the palm of his hands, each line and crevice, the soft dips between each finger.

And then he saw it. His past, standing in front of him like a dream, like a miracle that the winter brought with it.

He looked at them ; hair still a mess, filled with the small flakes of white between the blond locks, and in the bright Christmas lights his eyes reflected more than he would’ve allowed had this been any other day.

But now, seeing the figure standing across from him, an arms reach away with only a mere red light and a crosswalk between them, all he could do was look.

Simon remembered it all too well — their days as soldiers, how they would take care of each other and argue, how they’d share drinks and share secrets when no one was around, crack jokes too inappropriate in public settings.

It was almost funny.

How they saw him — truly saw him, even now as they stood a few simple steps away in the crowd.

A little bit older now both of them were, yet still the same soldiers they were back then.