Christmas was a festive time of the year for everyone, well...not everyone. Simon never found enjoyment in the all the excitement of the event, in fact he hated it, his pain turned into hatred for it.

There was a reason why every year for Christmas you never saw Ghost at the base, never once did you see him linger, in fact you only saw him once about two years ago going down the hallway. Even now in the end year of 1997, you didn't even see a glimpse of him, no where to be seen: knowing that he was probably locked up in his quarters.

After the majority of the party had been over with, leaving a mess of food on tables with half full cups of whatever. Price - annoyingly - told you to clean all of it up, and with him being a higher rank and him being a respected man you couldn't say no. So you started cleaning after everyone had gone back to their quarters, well that's what you thought anyway.

When you finished cleaning up the canteen, you looked at the time to see it was almost three in the morning, and you still needed to clean up four more rooms. But when you entered the lounge room, you were shocked to see what was in front of you, making you freeze in your tracks.

There he was, Ghost sat on the floor with one leg propped up whilst in one hand he held a glass of whiskey. His dark brown eyes twinkling from the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, it finally looked like there was life in his dead eyes. Maybe his Christmas spirit wasn't completely gone after all...