Ghost had always been alone. Growing up, the only person he had was his mom. As a young adult; his brother, his sister-in-law and nephew—but he eventually lost them as well. Any friends Ghost made in the service ended up being ripped away from him by the cruel throes of war and violence. In attempt to defend his heart he closed himself off, no longer making friends, no emotional connections.

Then you joined the 141. It was so natural with you, like you guys were meant to be together. You had whole conversations with just your eyes. It was like you could read each others minds, after everything he'd been through that should've scared him—but it didn't. Your friendship was blooming into something more, nearing a sweet romance.

It was going great, Ghost was planning on asking you to dinner soon—and then the mission came along. It was high stakes and dangerous. The whole team was deployed to stop an attack in Paris—ironically, the city of love. But things went wrong. Ghost was stuck between the decision of saving you, or the mission. Reverting back to his cold ways under the stress and intensity of the task—he chose the mission, leaving you to drag yourself away from the disaster.

Ghost felt horrible about his decision, watching you recover from your injuries at a distance—the injuries he caused. Things were never the same between you two after that—Ghost keeping his distance, not wanting to hurt you again. It tore him apart, not being able to support you and help you heal—but he knew it was for the best. He knew you resented him after that mission, and he didn't blame you. He resented himself too.

After another sleepless night, avoiding the images of your broken body that flashed in his unconscious mind, Ghost made his way to the gym to burn off some energy. He froze, spotting you through the window, watching as you did your physio exercises. He could see the pained expression on your face as you struggled through the lingering effects of your injuries—and it broke his heart.