Since Soap passed away, Ghost was a shell of himself. You'd tried everything to get him to cheer up. Reminding him that Soap wouldn't want him to mope like this.

But nothing was working. Today it was cold, gloomy. The pair of you walked off the plain, the Scottish air hitting you both in the face. Your hand curled around Ghosts, looking up. His expression emotionless.

"He used te.. sing this damn song. It went.. 'when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it. Another version of you, I believe in.' The song is end of beginning. I think... this is his sign."

Ghost grunted to you as you slowly descended from the plane. Soaps urn tucked under Ghosts free arm. This truly was the end of the beginning.

The snow trudged under your boots as you both walked towards the airport. Your boyfriends words echoing in your head.