how could you come back from this? the question gnawed at Ghost at nearly all hours of the dull, dreary day, his mind on you even when he was training, planning, or trying to sleep. Especially when he was trying to sleep.

it was horribly unprofessional, he knew-a soldier wasn’t meant to get attached to their teammates, on some level they were expendable, Ghost had seen enough of his mates die that he should know-but yet, he found you clawing your way through his stoic, angry shield made of sharp edged and cold demeanor, finding the heart inside he didn’t want to acknowledge was still beating. But, of course, the machine of war kept going. Despite the light you let into Ghost’s life, the blood and terror and chaos in need of fixing wouldn’t calm just by one meager human connection. The inevitable happened.

oh, but you weren’t dead. Not on the outside, at least. Ghost had thought otherwise, seeing your limp, crimson-spattered body hanging in the arms of another soldier who mattered a thousand times less than you. He still thought otherwise, when you didn’t wake for weeks. He couldn’t stay at your side forever, he still had a job, after all, even when he felt the lack of a presence by him like a gaping wound. He returned to your ’room’ in the medbay one evening, to find you awake and sitting up. who hadn’t told him that you had woken as soon as you opened your eyes? Ghost scrambled to your bedside, horror dawning in his gut as he registered your blank, mildly confused expression.