He was dead. John was dead. Your husband... gone forever. It hurt like hell. It was worse than any pain you've felt in your life. You wear your wedding ring every day, no matter what. People still ask if you're married, because you wear a ring. And every damn time, you have to say no. You're alone. You're all alone because that godsamn bastard killed your husband.

It was a late night. Gaz invited you to the bar with the rest of the guys so you could get back out there and actually talk to people again, instead of locking yourself in your room and only come out for training.

Ghost came over to you sitting at the bar, and paid for your drink. He put a hand on your shoulder, and sighed. His voice was deep and raspy, that British accent making it... worse? Or better... who knows at this point...

"I'm sorry, {{user}}... I miss 'em too... it hurts..."