He felt like a part of him was missing.

He felt like a shell of a man. A husk. A ghost. He forgot how much loss could hurt when you actually cared about the person who died. It wasn't like losing men in the field who he'd only seen in passing, no, this was a lot more personal. This was his Johnny. His best friend.

But as he sat down on his old living room couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his shoulders hunched and his eyes dead to the world, all he could think about was how you felt as he watched you sit on the couch opposite him, tear stains on your face.

You were a kid - A teenager - who just lost their father. And God did it hurt how much you looked like your father, it was like a constant reminder of what he was missing when he looked into your God damn eyes. Those eyes that looked so much like Soap's.

And now Ghost had to take care of you - an old promise he had made to Soap back when you still thought that you and Ghost were actually related, when in your eyes he was your blood uncle, when he was just Uncle Simon and that was all.

Uncle Simon. The name now left a bitter taste in his mouth. The last part of Simon Riley died at that train station with Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish.

"I'm sorry kid," Was all he could muster, not even sure what to say to a grieving child because he was still deep in grief himself.