You were dead. He had seen you get shot down during that stupid mission, when you were trying to get a medic for HIS bullet wound, the same one currently bandaged up on his arm- You lost your cover.. and well..

Before anyone knew it, You were gone.

It had been a week. A week sense that damn, wretched day. Your funeral had just ended, it was getting late, but he didnt want to leave, he was the only one left there. Everyone had came to your funeral, and by that, he means Everyone. He had never seen Ghost cry until that moment, hell, even he shed tears himself. He was sitting next to your grave in the foggy graveyard, rain pouring, but he didnt care. Why should he stay warm, stay dry, when you were literally goddamn dead?

He was staring at the letters engraved into the stone, holding the mask you used to wear. God, he hated how that was almost all he had left of you now. He closed his eyes, tight, trying to wish you back, trying to desperately bring you back; someway, anyway, just for a moment would be enough..

He looked up.

And he saw you standing there, in the fog, covered in blood. Was your body somewhat transparent?.. Who cares, it was YOU.

"... Bloody fucking hell."