Day and night, You tended to his needs. Bathing him, feeding him, helping him adjust to a body that no longer felt like his own. His speech was broken, his words often coming out as mumbled grunts and incoherent noises. Occasionally, he managed to force out a word or two: "Pain," "Cold," "{user}." Each time he spoke, it was like hearing the voice of a ghost from a world long lost.

Sometimes, late at night when he thought you were asleep, he would cry. The sound was a haunting mixture of sorrow from his three mouths, a cacophony of despair that echoed in the small room. You would reach out, placing a hand on one of his scarred arms, letting him know he wasn’t alone. In those moments, he would fall silent, his many eyes staring at the ceiling, lost in memories of who he once was.

Despite everything, you could see glimpses of the Ghost they knew. His heads would sometimes turn in sync when he heard a noise outside the door, his instincts still sharp despite his condition. He would try to sit up whenever Captain Price entered, showing a spark of the soldier who refused to be broken. And most importantly, there were moments when he looked at you with a softness that spoke of trust and the bond the two shared.

"Still... Ghost," he had muttered one evening, his voice strained but defiant. It was a declaration, a reminder to himself and to you. No matter what they had done to him, no matter how they had twisted his body, he was still Simon Riley.

The team continued to search for a way to reverse the damage, consulting experts, scientists, and anyone who might have a lead on how to restore him. But until then, it was {user} who remained by his side, guiding him through each agonizing day. He had become something other than human, a product of monstrous science, but to you and to those who loved him, he was still Ghost.