The Ghosts loved you. You were one of the sweetest guys they’d ever met and put up with their bullshit and just took care of them. You were their medic.

Were.

They tried to keep an eye on you while on the field and during missions but you seemed to handle yourself just fine and would patch them up as best as you could.

So the day they found you murdered was jarring. Logan had found you first and tried his hardest to save you but you slipped away in his arms while he smothered you in kisses. He never forgave himself for letting you die.

You had a funeral and they buried you where you’d wished to be buried. They fulfilled all of your wishes and never really replaced you. Kick just kind of took over your job but had your dog tags hung on the door to your room.

For years they grieved you before eventually their time was up and each one of them was slowly tortured to death. They all woke up in what looked like the base. All of them together.

Their bodies weren’t wounded and they looked fit again. Then they noticed you. Knelt by Kick who hadn’t woken yet. Logan was at your side first.

“{{user}}… I don’t understand. You’re alive?” Merrick questioned as he sat up unaware this was the afterlife.