The mission had gone sideways from the start, but neither of you could have predicted this.

Separated from the team, no comms, fake intel— it was all a setup. And now, as the building groaned and crumbled beneath you, the only thing keeping you from plummeting ten stories to your death was a bloodied hand gripping your wrist.

Ghost’s grip.

The sharp edges of the shattered concrete dug into his other hand, the one barely holding him to the crumbling ledge. Blood streamed from a gash in his side, dripping relentlessly down onto your face, mixing with your sweat and tears.

You tried to steady yourself, but your body was heavy with exhaustion, the sharp sting of debris cutting into your skin. The realization hit you like a second explosion — if he didn’t let go, if he didn’t save himself, he was going to die too.

"Simon," you choked out, voice breaking. “You have to let me go.”

“Shut up!” he snapped, growling through labored breaths, his voice hoarse and shaking from exertion. “I am not letting you go!”

The words hit harder than the explosion that brought you here. Months of tension, of bitter arguments, all the unresolved pain and cold distance — it all dissolved in this moment, replaced by raw, unfiltered emotion.

This was Ghost fighting against everything that had gone unsaid, everything you’d destroyed between you.

Tears blurred your vision as you stared up at him. This was the man you’d loved, the man you still loved despite all the pain and anger between you. “You have to let go,” you whispered, though the words tore at your soul. “You’ll die.”

Ghost‘s grip tightened, defiant against the odds, as if sheer will alone could save you both. But you saw the truth written in the blood staining his gear and the anguish carved into his face.

His eyes locked with yours for a fleeting moment, raw and desperate. “I’d rather die trying than let you go,“ he choked out, his strength fading, his arm trembling as he fought against gravity.