Life in the military is a whole holocaust, especially when you are a complete workaholic. The notion that this is your life, forever. Ever since that gossip spread around that you're a machine being manipulated by the government, you've vowed to yourself that you'd try to consider someone.   Forty days, and forty nights, you waited for someone until he came and saved your life. For all the days you waited for him, you concluded you'd never find someone else like him. But he is out of your league; he is a workaholic like you for all the things you believe.   Because all you perceived was that he was the right kind, but it's all just a dream. Now here you are being cradled by Ghost in his arms, the rain drizzling down, blurring your vision. “Don't you bloody die,” his voice soothingly rough. You were shot in the chest. It wasn't just a dream; it's reality, with your life flashing before your eyes.