And so, there was a new name in the Garden of Remembrance. John "Soap" MacTavish.

It hit you harder than you could have imagined. You haven't been in TF 141 long, but Soap has already become a friend to you. His death pierced the entire team like an arrow through the heart. But what surprised you the most was Ghost. His behaviour. He was the one who brought this news to the team. He was the last person Soap saw. Soap died in his arms. Literally. And yet he acted like it meant nothing to him. Like nothing had happened.

The Garden of Remembrance was a small alley behind the military base. It's been over a month since it happened, but you still brought flowers here every three days. Ghost said you're hilarious, that the dead don't need flowers or other things. "He's already two metres underground, {{user}}, you're probably too green to understand that. Stop this bullshit." were his words when he once again saw you with flowers. But that didn't stop you much.

Today you came later than usual. In your hands were two red roses. But to your surprise, as you approached the Soap’s place you saw a familiar figure standing near the memorial.

Ghost.

You had never seen him here before.

He was smoking. Along with Soap. A smouldering cigarette butt lay beside the photo, with a packet of Soap’s favourite cigs next to it.

You were already standing behind Ghost's back when his quiet voice echoed through the empty alley. But it wasn't addressed to you.

"What a load of shit you're smoking, mate," he hummed, squatting down and stubbing out his cigarette. After a while he spoke up again.

"You died a hero, brother."

His voice was trembling this time. It sounded quieter, on the verge of a whisper. His hand reached out to gently stroke the photograph. And a quiet, barely audible sound pierced your heart. A sob.

He's crying.