"If only I had listened when you raised suspicions, then maybe you'd still be here.
I know deep down I should have, but I was so blinded by my own faith and pride that I didn't take it into account, didn't even stop to consider that maybe he was untrustworthy.
The only reason you didn't bug me about it further was because I, as captain, am supposed to look out for my men, too make sure you would always get home safe, alive. I didn't do my job Simon. I failed you, I failed Roach, I failed myself..."

He shivered a little as a cool breeze swept through the base, creating a small sand tornado a few feet to his left. The quiet of his surroundings made everything almost surreal, almost as though that it he believed it enough, he could wake up from this an it would have just all been a bad dream.

"It's cold without you Simon. Cold during missions without you, cold throughout the team... Well, what's left of us… I'm not sure I ever voiced it, but I love you. I love you more than anything and if there was anything I could do to bring you back I would do it without hesitation."

He took a deep breath, steadying himself on one knee as he knelt down in front of the grave stone of the one man he had ever fully given a shit about.

"I miss your snarky attitude. Your sarcasm and the way you always challenged my authority. It was endearing… I miss you..."

He could feel his heart breaking, again. Could feel the battered organ shattering into small pieces that he would probably never get into the same place again. He could feel the unfamiliar burn of tears in his eyes. He tilted his head backwards so they wouldn't fall, and furiously blinked them back.

"I'll always miss you." John half sobbed, half whispered.

He knelt on the dirt in front of where they had buried Ghost on the Kazakhstan 141 base. He'd still been alive when they found him and Roach, but he died shortly after during the chopper ride back to the base.

The smell of burning flesh had permeated his nostrils along with the metallic taste of blood shed on the field. It had clung to the air like a thick fog, made it hard to breathe. At first, he thought Ghost was dead too, but when he walked over to his and Roach's body, Ghost's hand had shot out and gripped his ankle.

Soap had been terrified, not expecting the movement and he looked down immediately. His eyes had widened in horrified surprise and he felt his stomach bottom out.
Bile had risen in the back of his throat at the sight of Simon – his Simon – all visible skin red raw from the burns.
Through all the trauma his body had suffered, his eyes had still remained that shocking blue that had always entranced him, whether he wanted them to or not; but this time, those eyes were filled with fear, betrayal, pain and hate.

"Simon?" John croaked, looking down at what was left of his friend. "Price! PRICE! Ghost is alive!" He yelled.

He dropped to the ground and picked his body up, cradling his damaged form in his arms. His hand moved to the bottom of the balaclava covering Ghost's face and tugged it up and off his head.
His dark, short hair ruffled from having the mask on for so long.

"Soap," came Ghost's broken voice, just more than a whisper.

"I'm here, Simon. Please stay with me."

"Shit. We gotta get him to the chopper. Soap, move him, I'll grab Roach." Price said, quickly moving to pick up Roach's body.

John stood up and walked as quickly as he could with Ghost in his arms, which wasn't very fast, but he got him there.

Ghost didn't make a sound. He just lay limply in his captain's arms. Usually he would have a fit about being carried by someone, let alone John, but he just didn't have the energy, and honestly, it felt good to have someone so close to him; a person he could trust.

"Ghost, keep your eyes open." John said. "Nikolai, pass me the kit."

"Of course, comrade." Nikolai said as he passed Soap the kit and got into the seat of the chopper.

He didn't bother with a thank you; he tore into the box and pulled out bandages and painkillers.

"Gonna get you fixed up. You're not dying on my watch. You got me?" Soap said, his voice becoming hysterical.

Ghost just lay there. He couldn't really do anything except breath and keep his eyes open as best he could. He hissed when Soap stuck a needle into his inner elbow, then sighed cause sweet mercy, that was morphine.

But Ghost could feel it. The darkness creeping over him, over his consciousness, it both scared him and welcomed him. Death had her arms opened wide, just for him, and her sweet kiss would claim him soon.

"Soap." He whispered, as that was as loud as his voice could go. "I'm not gonna make it."

Soap stopped what he was doing and looked down at the lieutenant. He shook his head brushed his hand through his short hair.

"You're gonna make it. I will make sure you do. Just don't let go." John's voice was getting shaky.

Ghost slowly lifted his hand to Soap's and held it as tightly as he could. The man was shaking all over, and Ghost couldn't have that. His captain needed to be strong, to not cry over him.

Simon let out a short breath, meant to be a laugh, cause hell, he was crying now, and he didn't know why he thought that was funny.

"I know you're not good at it, but you need to let go…" He told his captain. "And that's an order." He added with a small smirk, the most he could muster.

Soap chuckled at the comment, despite the situation and squeezed the lieutenant's hand. He smiled through the unshed tears.

"Still trying to order me around, eh?"

"I can try." Ghost responded.

His eyes shut then, and it took a lot more strength than before to open them.
This was it.
He was dying.

"John," Ghost said again, his voice becoming softer with each passing second.

"Yeah mate?" John asked.

"Don't forget about me, John." He sighed, his voice becoming quieter.

"You're not an easy person to forget." John countered.

Simon couldn't speak, so he motioned as best as he could with his hand, signalling for his captain to come closer. John lowered his head near Simon's, and the pain in those eyes tore at Simon's insides. With the last of his strength, he pushed himself up as far as he could in the other man's arms and pressed his lips to John's.

Simon considered trying to speak again, but knew he couldn't, and he hoped that the small press of his lips against his captains got what he needed to say, he hoped that John understood what he was trying to say.

John's eyes widened for a second, and then he just let it happen. He allowed Simon to have this, and he didn't pull away until he could feel Simon start to weaken more.

Ghost smiled as best he could, which was only a small twitch at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were closed now, and he could feel himself slipping away.

Everything was becoming quieter, his heart beat slowing steadily.

John knew it was coming. This was the last time Simon would close his eyes.

He felt it before he saw it. He felt the life leave Ghost's body, saw his chest stop rising, all breath gone from his lungs.

John clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly. Hot tears escaped his tight shut lids. His body shook as he quietly sobbed.
He gripped Simon's body closer to him, holding the man's body close and starting to rock backwards and forwards slightly.

Price watched on from the other side of the chopper. He'd put Roach's body in the black bag he hated so much and placed it so that it rested next to him. He'd removed his tags and planned to send them back to his family, so they could have something of the boy they had lost.

He wanted so desperately to go and comfort the younger captain, but he didn't move. John needed this, as gruesome as it sounds, it was a kind of closure for the man, but he knew this memory would haunt him the rest of his life.
All he could do was watch on, and make sure John got through as best he could.

John reached around Simon's neck, removing his tags from him.

'Lt. Simon "Ghost"
Riley

01-23-2011
Unknown
Other'

He gipped the chain tightly around his fingers and in his palm.

He would kill Shepherd for this.

Roach's grave lay next to his, the only thing marking them being the small wooden crosses they'd made from what they could find on base.

He cast his eyes up to the sky, the blue slowly being swallowed up by dark, rain filled clouds.

It was going to storm.

"It hurts Simon. It fucking hurts so bad." He sobbed, his voice cracking on almost every word.

His head fell so his chin touched his chest.

"I don't know what to do..."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he knew instantly who it was.

Price.

Price knelt down beside John. He looked at the two graves and crossed his chest, uttering a prayer for the dead men. When he looked back to John, the younger soldier was still crying, but trying to hide his pain.

"He's gone..." Was all he could say before he shuddered and started sobbing harder.

Price pulled the younger into his arms and held him in a sort of side on hug while the younger man cried into the chest, his body shaking violently.

He didn't say anything. What could he say?

Nothing would make this hurt less for the younger man.

He only hoped that maybe with time he would heal, but he knew the young Captain would never be the same. He'd lost his entire team, his best friend and his adopted brother.
Even though in this line of work you expect your men to die, nothing can really prepare you, and no words Price could ever utter would make this young man feel any better.

All he could do was distract him.

"Let's go get Makarov." He said, helping John to stand.

John just nodded, but Price knew he didn't hear him. It didn't matter. He needed time to heal, and John could take all the time he needed.

AN: This story was updated from the previous version on November 7, 2013 at 10:25pm. Changes made were spelling/grammar corrections and additional paragraphs.