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"I love you, please, don't leave us, don't leave me.."
Those were Simon "Ghost" Riley's last words to John "Soap" Mactavish. His last words to his teammate, his best friend, his lover. It shouldn't have ended up like this. It should've been him, not Johnny.
Ghost's last words to Soap echoed in the cold, unforgiving silence that had settled over the battlefield. His voice trembled with a mix of grief, regret, and a profound sense of loss. Soap's lifeless eyes stared back at him, the once vibrant blue spirit now forever extinguished. Those were the last words he ever spoke to his teammate, his best friend, and the love of his life.
Simon couldn't help but replay the moments leading up to this devastating point in their lives. It was a cascade of choices made in the name of duty, choices that had inexorably led to this tragic outcome. They were no innocents, and they knew it. Both of them had become war criminals, lost in the chaos of conflict, their hands stained with the blood of enemies and comrades alike.
He clung to Johnny's lifeless body, wishing he could turn back time, undo the decisions that had brought them to this hellish reality. It should've been him who lay lifeless on the cold, unforgiving ground, not Johnny. The guilt weighed on his soul like an anchor, threatening to drag him into the abyss of despair.
The rain began to fall, washing away the bloodstains and tears from their faces, but it couldn't cleanse the guilt that now stained Simon's conscience. They had been murderers, caught in the relentless cycle of violence and revenge. In their pursuit of justice, they had become the very monsters they had once sworn to vanquish. Simon clutched Johnny's lifeless hand, feeling the cruel finality of death.
He whispered, "I'm so sorry, so, so sorry," his voice breaking as the weight of their choices bore down on him. The battlefield, with its smoke and chaos, stood as a stark reminder of the grim reality they had embraced. As he gazed at Johnny's unseeing eyes, Simon couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to atone for the sins of their past, if a path to redemption existed for war-torn souls like theirs. In the end, they were warriors who had become victims of the very war they had fought so valiantly to end, and now, all that remained was the hollow ache of loss and the bitter taste of regret.
Two weeks passed by. Or three. Simon doesn't really keep track of the time anymore. Has he ever done it? He can't remember. All he knows is that his heart, his cold heart, as he told Johnny, is empty. Not like it wasn't so before, but it's emptier than usual. The only thing filling it is the bourbon he keeps on drinking.
Simon sat alone in his car, parked in a desolate, rain-soaked alley. The echoes of war still reverberated in his mind, haunting his every waking moment. But the most agonizing memory, the one he couldn't escape, was the loss of his lover. A man he had loved more deeply than words could express. A man he loves more than anything else in the entire world. He still uses the present when talking about him, even though he knows he should stop, like he's still with him, besides him.
The rain beat relentlessly against the windshield, mimicking the relentless sorrow that had taken hold of Simon's heart. His hands gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, and his breath trembled in sync with the shivering droplets outside. A bottle of bourbon, now nearly empty, sat beside him, its label smudged and worn. He turned on the radio.
As the lyrics poured from the speakers, the lieutenant's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know the song, but the lyrics were more than enough to realize that it wasn't what he needed.
"I'm headed straight for the floor
The alcohol served its tour"
Ironic, isn't it? He looks at the bottle that is in his hands, suddenly feeling dizy, feeling a little...daft and dim.
"The ways in which you talk to me
Have me wishin' I were gone
The ways that you say my name
Have me runnin' on and on"
Simon wishes he was gone. He wishes it would've been him, not Johnny. The lyrics echoed through the car, as if they were written for him. Each word cut through him like a knife, resonating with the storm of emotions that raged within. Their love had been a turbulent one, marked by passion and a deep connection, but also by the burdens of their past. The pain they had inflicted on each other in their darkest moments was always healed by the other one.
The lyrics brought a wave of self-loathing, and Simon's tears flowed freely as he wished, more than anything, that it had been him who had been taken by the cruel hands of fate. He wished he could turn back time, rewrite the past, and erase the war that was happening.
The weight of guilt and regret bore down on him like a heavy chain, threatening to suffocate him. Simon felt as though he were drowning in a sea of despair, his heart heavy with the burden of their fractured relationship. The room seemed to close in around him, the memories of their tumultuous love overwhelming his senses.
The car became a vessel for their memories, and for a brief moment, it was as though Johnny was there with him, their love rekindled in the haunting melody that filled the space. The song enveloped Simon in a poignant embrace, a reminder of the love he had lost, and he clung to it as if it were a lifeline, allowing the tears to fall freely.
In the depths of his sorrow, Simon found himself drifting into memories of happier times. He closed his eyes, and the room seemed to dissolve around him, replaced by the dimly lit interior of his car, parked in a secluded spot on a quiet night.
The soft glow of the dashboard's lights cast a warm, intimate ambiance inside the car, and Simon could almost feel the butterflies in his stomach as he relived that moment. He and Johnny had been friends and comrades for a while, their connection growing stronger with each mission they completed together.
One evening, the weight of their unspoken feelings became too much to bear. They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them palpable. Simon turned to Johnny, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and desire. He reached out and gently cupped Johnny's cheek, their eyes locking in a silent exchange of longing.
The world outside seemed to fade away as Simon leaned in, their lips meeting in a tentative, trembling kiss. It was a moment of pure vulnerability, a declaration of the love they had both been too afraid to voice. The kiss deepened, and Simon could taste the mixture of adrenaline and passion that flowed between them.
This kiss wasn't between Ghost and Soap. It was between Simon Riley and John Mactavish.
As Simon relived their first kiss, a bittersweet smile touched his lips, tears swelling in his eyes. It was a memory that had fueled their love and kept it burning, a reminder of the connection they shared. The recollection of that kiss was a poignant testament to a love that had endured through the chaos of their lives, a love that still held a place in Simon's heart, even as he grappled with it's painful absence.
Ghost was a selfish soldier. Simon Riley was an even more selfish man.
Simon Riley was an atheist, yet he found himself in the darkest corner of his despair, his elbows pressed into his cold, freezing knees, his trembling hands clasped together, tears streaming quietly down his face. His voice, shaky and unsteady, quivered as he whispered a desperate plea to the heavens, the very heavens he had denied his entire life. The very heavens he knew he was not worthy of.
"God, if you're there, if there's any mercy in this universe, please, please bring Johnny back, or bring me to him," he choked out, his disbelief in a higher power now overshadowed by the sorrow that had shattered his world. In his heart-wrenching moment of vulnerability, Simon Riley, the non-believer, sought solace in a faith he had long rejected, clinging and holding on to dear life to an ounce of hope that perhaps, in his darkest hour, a miracle might appear.
He knew it wouldn't.
"Oh what am I supposed to do without you?"
Nothing. Sure, he was Ghost, the big, bad lieutenant that ignited fear upon everyone who dared to lay eyes on him. But as Simon Riley, he was nothing. The moment John Mactavish ceased to exist, so did Simon.
When one was in pain, the other could feel it, their hearts and souls mirroring the emotional damage. In moments of joy, their laughter and shared happiness were like a serenade.
And when Johnny's life was tragically cut short, Simon could feel the gaping void in his own soul, an emptiness that could never be filled. It was as though a part of himself had been torn away, leaving him incomplete, forever yearning for the presence of the other half of his soul. A presence that will never be there.
"I'm Mr. Loverman
And I miss my lover, man"
Oh, how much he missed his lover. He missed the way he would laugh whenever he told an awful, silly joke, the way his voice sounded when shouting orders at the recruits, the way it sounded when it would be just the two of them, his soft voice reassuring Simon that nothing bad would happen to them, that he would never leave him, he missed his stupid hair-
And his eyes. His beautiful, big blue eyes that lit up every room he was in. Oh, what he wouldn't do to get to see his shining eyes again.
Simon was a strong soldier. He wasn't a strong lover.
With every breath he took, his world crumbled a little more. He felt himself slipping into a consuming, dark void. He didn't fight it.
After a small, quick thought, he moved his hand to the bag that was placed onto the seat next to him. The seat Johnny used to sit in.
With small movements, Simon reached into his bag, his fingers searching for the cold steel. His heart raced as he touched the metallic contours of the gun. It had become his only companion in the depths of his sorrow, a means to end the pain that had consumed him.
The world fell silent as Simon held the weapon in his trembling right hand, the hand he used to caress Johnny's cheeks with, the hand he used to hold his partner's with, the hand he used to brush his fingers through his lover's messy hair with, it's weight a cruel reminder of the choices that lay before him. The darkness cornered him, and he felt as though he were teetering on the edge of a cliff.
His eyes were heavy with tears as he contemplated the gun, his thoughts a whirlwind of despair, grief, and longing. The car seemed to echo with the weight of his decision, a decision that held the power to bring an end to his suffering or to extinguish the flicker of hope that still remained.
Ghost was needed, even after they had defeated Makarov, yet Simon Riley wasn't. Not in that moment. The only man who needs Simon Riley is none other than John Mactavish, and that man is not there anymore.
Simon pulls the trigger.
The wound on his body was a haunting mirror of the one that had taken Johnny's life, a matching one. The scar was an unspoken vow that showed that their love was present in every universe and life.
It was a reminder that they were two souls forever entwined, their love and pain written on their bodies in a language only they could understand.
In the stillness of that moment, in the surprisingly bright room, Simon felt a sudden warmth and a gentle touch on his shoulder. He turned, his heart pounding, and there, standing before him, was Johnny. It was not a mirage or a fleeting illusion; it was Johnny, his Johnny, as real and as vibrant as he had ever been.
Tears swelled up in Simon's eyes as he embraced Johnny, who held him in a loving and tight embrace. They were reunited, the pain of separation dissolving in the presence of each other's souls. In that ethereal space, they found solace and a love that transcended the bounds of mortality.
Their hearts beat as one, and in the afterlife, they discovered a second chance at the happiness that had been stolen from them in the mortal world. Hand in hand, they walked into eternity, finding the peace and love that had eluded them in life, a love that could not be extinguished even by death.
"I'm Mr. Loverman
And I missed my lover"