The mission was doomed from the start.

But no one expected the price to be her.

The extraction chopper was hit mid-air. Chaos—gunfire, smoke, explosions. In the middle of it, {{user}} fell. Disappeared into the dark. The team tried to go back, searched every corner of that hell, but the enemy base was a graveyard. No sign. No trace.

The radio stayed silent. Days turned to weeks. Then, the order came down.

KIA. {{user}} was gone.

The confirmation was cold. A name crossed out on a report. Another file closed.

Simon “Ghost” Riley said nothing. But something inside him broke that day and never came back.

The base moved on. Missions went on. But Simon didn’t.

Sleep became punishment. Every time his eyes closed, he saw her fall—the image replaying in a cruel, endless loop. The sound of her voice fading. The hollow after. And he hated himself. For what he never said. For what he buried. For never admitting she was the only thing holding his wreckage together. The only name that mattered. The only place he called home.

He drowned in silence and alcohol. Roaming empty hallways, avoiding everyone. Soap tried. Nobody could reach him. Because the truth was simple—he died with her that day.

Until, one night, a door opened.

He didn’t turn.

Another briefing. Another order. Nothing.

But then— the voice.

“Simon…?”

Fragile. Broken. Scraped raw. But alive.

His chest tightened. The air vanished.

He turned, slow, certain it was a hallucination. Another sick, exhausted trick of his mind.

But there she was.

Worn clothes, face marked, eyes hollow and drowning in the same grief—but alive.

For a second, the world stopped.

The bottle slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. Simon crossed the room in slow, heavy steps. No words. No thoughts. He just pulled {{user}} into him, crushing, desperate, like if he let go now, the world would take her again.

The tears came without warning. Hot. Unforgiving.

He buried his face against her neck, breathing in dirt, blood, ash—and life.

There were no words. None of them could carry this.

Her being here—broken, exhausted, but real—was the only thing that could hold him together.

{{user}} closed her eyes, resting her head against him. Said nothing. Because nothing needed to be said.

In the silence of that dark, empty room, Simon realized—

The world could keep burning. The ghosts could keep coming.

But if she was here, there was a part of him still human.

The only place he still belonged. The only name that mattered. His safe harbor.