I Blame The Kitchen Fan Lullaby For This Idea. And I Also My Re-awaken Obsession With Ghost.

•I blame the Kitchen Fan Lullaby for this idea. And I also my re-awaken obsession with Ghost.•

Warning: Angst and death. This is just sad.

Summary: As Ghost finds himself fading away, he can’t help to have his mind wander to what could have been.

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The mission had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.

Simon found himself stumbling down a dimly lit hallway, wounded badly and bleeding heavily. His breath was ragged and every step he took there was nothing but pain engulfing him. The only thing that made his situation better was that his team was safe and out of harms way.

Finally allowing the pain to take over him, Simon leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, feeling woozy from the blood lost. His vision was also going in and out, becoming fuzzy before he forced it back clear with a slight tap to his cheek. With a frustrated groan Simon removed his head gear, skull mask and his balaclava. His hair was laced in sweat and so was his face.

Simon knew he was not going to make it out of this god forsaken building. He raised a shaky hand and opened one of the breast pockets of his vest, retrieving a picture. It was a little black and white sonogram of a baby. His baby. His little girl.

You, his loving wife of four years, had sent it to him in a letter weeks ago. Of course, you had already announced to him over the many video calls you two shared of the news. He—as you jokingly said—had hit the target the first try, and before he was deployed had gotten you knocked up. Sure neither of you were thrilled he was miles and miles away facing danger while you were home, growing a life alone and could possibly give birth to the babe by yourself. You weren’t really alone. You had your friends and family to help while he was away and Simon was thankful to them all. He just hoped he’d they’d all would still be there for you with what comes next.

The sonogram of his daughter, his little Amadora, was your last one before birth. He could see from the image she would have your nose, small and cute as a button and your same pouty lips. Maybe she’d have his eye color and maybe his hair? Fuck. He wish he would be around long enough to know.

Simon used to not fear death, he’d always embraced it as a friend anytime he was in the field, and always anticipated something like this would happen. Growing up how he did made him hard. He was a solider. So, if he died being one, dying for his team, dying to protect the innocent, dying as the goddamn Lt. “Ghost” Riley he was, then so be it. Yet, that changed when you came into the picture.

You with your good hearted nature, your ambitiousness, and your power to turn everything bright around you. You were the most stubborn woman he had ever met and yet he loved that about you. The feisty side you could have and how you could have easily beat every man on the task force with a hand tied behind your back. Price always commented on how you were one hell of a woman to be the only female on Task 141.

Simon loved your feisty side. He loved your sweet side. He loved you. Love was a foreign feeling to him until you came around and he could drop every wall he built up in his life for you. Only you. His true love, his best friend and his sweet little missus.

When you left the force, it was a mutual decision. Stuff got too much for you after a while but Simon was always there. And you two kept your relationship going, and after about six years together, Simon popped the question to you. He remembered how you wrapped your arms around him, knocking the both of you to turn ground as you kissed all over his face, his lips, anywhere you could while sobbing happily like a baby.

Simon wished he could see those tears again as you both held your daughter for the first time. See them when you dropped the little tike off to her first day of school, going off to college and he wished he could walk her down the aisle like every little girl wished their daddies would do on their wedding day. Because he knew you’d have those tears coming down your face, and he was not too much of an asshole to admit, tears would be coming down his face as well.

But he won’t.

He’d have to watch all the big mile stones from the clouds. Or wherever the fuck he was going.

Feeling your body grow cold was an odd feeling. Or the slow realization that your heart was beating slower and slower, and breathing was getting harder to do. And when you could they were hollow and uneven.

Simon kept looking at the sonogram in his hand, holding to it tightly, fighting his hand that kept wanting to become loose as his body slowly started giving up on him. He smiled softly.

He thought back to a random conversation you two had one morning, laying in bed on a Saturday afternoon. You remembered a science lesson from the tenth grade, where your teacher had mentioned that at death the brain has just enough function to remember seven minutes of happy thoughts, or basically what coulds. Just like it had the same function to allow the eyes and mouth to move before the brain, too, died. And he remembered how you ran a hand over his mask less face, letting your finger tips run over the scruff he had developed from being off duty, and told him that whenever it was your time, he’d be your seven minutes.

Simon had kissed you softly after that. The kiss growing more passionate until early morning love making happened. Something the both of you enjoyed.

Swallowing thickly, hardly any saliva from how his mouth and throat were so dry, Simon closed his eyes one more time.

Memories of the both of you came to his mind. The good, the bad, the ugly and the wonderful. His team, his friends, his brothers came to his mind. And everything every one of them had been through together in the years he spent with them. Then he used the last bit to see for himself an image of you and the baby together.

You would be in the kitchen cooking breakfast, Amadora on your hip as you hummed that little song you always sung. Swaying from side to side slowly as you watched the pancakes on the griddle.

You always had woken up before him and giving that a baby was now added to the mix, getting up early was out of the question. You could always wake him and he made sure to always tell you that, but you never wanted to do it. You always wanted to let him sleep because you just knew he was tired. He would be but he wouldn’t mind if you woke him to help you with anything. Even settling the baby down.

Amadora was what he hoped she looked like. She had your nose and your pouty lips, and some of the faces she made were all you. Yet, some were him as well. Her skin fair with dark hair like his. It was even uncontrollable in the mornings like his was when his hair grew back after shaving it for work. And her eyes? Hell. She had his same hazel brown eyes, a little bit of green near her pupils. Her brown was a bit more warmer than his but they were still like him.

You would turn to face him with a smile on your face and at the sight of him, your daughter would beam a toothless grin behind her pacifier. Her deep dimples showing perfectly on her chubby cheeks. Simon would walk over to his beautiful girls, kissing his little daughter on her head and rubbing his nose with hers before turning to you, wishing you a Goodmorning before letting his lips meet yours. The kiss was always slow and loving, always had been. You always smiled into the kiss and placed your hand on either his cheek or cupped his chin as he lovingly held his hand to the nape of your neck.

He would wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder, placing a few kisses to the bare skin. A smile on his face as he would look back, wondering how he got so lucky and just glad he did something with his life to end up with you.

“I’ll see you soon my loves,” Simon spoke with a voice barely above a whisper, “just wait for me until then.”

His breathing slowed and slowed until he could feel his head dipping down, chin resting against his chest. This was supposed to be his last mission for a while to go watch his daughter come into the world, and this was his last mission. But it was his last mission because he sacrificed himself for his team. He had mentioned to Soap prior to the mission that morning if anything happened to him that Simon wanted him to be the one to deliver the news. And he knew Soap would and would do anything in his power to be there for you and the baby.

The right grip he held in his daughter’s sonogram loosened and the picture slipped from his grasp. It fell on the floor beside him, your neat handwriting in red pen on the bottom, acting as if the baby had written it, saying, “I can’t wait to meet you, Daddy!”

An image of your smiling face came to him once more, for the very last time. With what little strength he had left to even move his face muscles, the corner of his lips turned up into a smile before they fell again into a straight line.

Before he even knew it, darkness over took him. And Simon Riley took his very last breath.