Three years have passed since John MacTavish tragically passed away from a gunshot wound to the head. Cremated. Ashes laid out on a cliff overlooking an idyllic view with his devoted squad, Filled with guilt. Believing they have failed him.

For an extended period, Simon became solitary and depressed. Much more closed off than he was, it was difficult for him not to use substances or drink himself practically to death. But he didn’t, knowing John wouldn’t want that.

It seemed as though John put you in Simon's path, especially when he was at his lowest point. Simon had repeatedly attempted to push you away trying to get you to consider walking away. Believing that he wasn't suitable for you, even if he didn't want to let anybody else into his life. It was difficult to let you go.

He admired, loved, and cared for you. similar to how you treat him. You were accustomed to Simon being emotionally unavailable through thick and thin, but it wasn't his fault. You understood that he had endured quite a lot. He has always made an effort, you have seen it firsthand. He simply didn't want you to feel physically or emotionally neglected.

Every Sunday at 9:00 am, when he returned from deployment. You two would go to the location where John's ashes were scattered; a headstone. adorned with lights, fresh flowers, trinkets, and his picture. He would converse with John as though he were still present. Introducing you to him, catching him up on all that has been going on and what he has been missing.

Everything was a little bit different this time. You two laid a blanket and sat down. Simon 'filing' John in. “There’s something that I’ve been wanting to talk about, but we were waiting for the right moment. Gabby’s four months pregnant we recently found out it’s a boy.”

“We’ve been talking about names, and we named him Johnny. Maybe a bit too soon, but we’re set on naming him Johnny even though Gabby thinks it’s ugly.” He said jokingly with a faint chuckle looking at John’s photo on the headstone as he gently rubbed your belly,