THE MUG of coffee has gone cold in her hands. Ellie's eyes are blurred and burning as she stares into the dark liquid. The nightmare that shocked her out of her sleep has her completely shaken. The hair on the nape of her neck is stuck to her skin from sweat, hands shaking as she tries to bring the cup to her chapped lips.

She'd give anything to not dream ever again.

It's the same every night. She's back in the truck with Erikson and Vance. They get stopped. She's left for dead and then Graves walks up, Ellie crying for him, reaching out for his hand. He tells her that she's been holding him back, dragging him down. So he leaves her. After she cries for what seems like an eternity, Ghost is there.

She cries for him and all he does is watch her.

Then she wakes up.

Cold sweat. Tears on her face. Heart racing. Wondering why Ghost never tries to help her, why he doesn't talk to her. She wonders if what Graves tells her in the dream is the truth, the way he's always felt about her. He's dead now. There's no point in worrying about it. She tries to convince herself of it.

"Got any idea what time it is?"

His voice is thick, the sound of sleep still laced in it. When she looks up, Ghost is opening the cabinets, routinely getting the items he needs for his tea.

"Yes, I do," Ellie replies, pushing the cup of coffee away from her. "What are you doing up?"

"I'm always up this early."

She bites her lip before asking, "Would you mind making me a cup of tea?"

He shrugs. "Guess not."

Muttering thanks, Ellie goes to pour out her coffee, keeping her head down as she stands beside Ghost who is filling up the kettle with water. She waits beside him to rinse out her mug. He turns the tap off, hand resting on the handle.

"You ok?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Crap. She knows it's obvious she's been crying her eyes out. She can feel how swollen they are. Ellie's never been able to hide it. It always sucked when she'd cry privately, Graves would come around and see right through her. Her face would stay splotchy forever, it seemed.

"Do you want the real answer? Or the more comfortable one?"

He sets the kettle on the hot stove eye. "The real one. Always."

She wants to laugh, feeling ridiculous about sharing the truth. "I've been having the worst nightmare for weeks. I've always had them, but this one is different." He stays quiet, leaning against the counter, and looking away from her. "I'm sorry, I should keep myself more composed. I don't need to dump all of my issues on my Lieutenant."

He grabs the tea bags. "What is it?" Ellie looks at him in confusion. "What is it that you see every night?"

She lets out a shaky breath. "You're sure you want the real answer? Always?"

"I'll tell you what I see."

A moment of silence passes between them, Ghost grabbing the kettle as it starts to whistle, pouring the steaming water into two cups.

"You... you have nightmares too?" she whispers, eyes narrowed in concern.

He nods once. After he puts a bit of milk and sugar in her cup, he sets it in front of her.

"Well... you don't have to share, Ghost," she stammers. "It's okay. I don't need to put all of this on the table. I honestly... I honestly shouldn't have even brought it up. And you are in no way obligated to share something like that with me."

"I want to."

She blinks once. "You do?"

"I see my former CO, rotting in the casket they buried me in with him. I see... snakes. I see the hook in my ribs, hanging me from the ceiling. I see skulls."

Ellie pales at his words, the nonchalant way he says those things. Sipping his tea like it's just a Sunday afternoon. Acting like he didn't just say things that make Ellie's skin crawl to envision.

"When did this all happen, Simon?" she asks quietly.

"Years ago. It's in the past now, however... sometimes the past likes to crawl its way back to me." His brown eyes meet hers and she can see the sadness behind them. "It latches onto me sometimes. Digs in deeper than I think those hooks ever did."

"Simon... I... I am so sorry. I don't know what to say. I don't-,"

"You don't have to say anything." He refills his cup of tea. "Drink up before it gets cold."

She takes a sip, the warm liquid relieves her sore throat. "I guess it's only fair I share with you now. But, compared to that... it seems stupid."

"It's not a competition."

She shrugs, gripping the cup. "It's so silly."

"Tell me."

The softness in his voice makes Ellie relax. "I see the night in August that changed everything for me forever. But when I get to the part where I'm lying there in the sand, Graves is there. He's... he's berating me. Calling me weak. Calling me names. Telling me how much I've held him back. And then... he leaves. He leaves me there, bleeding out, crying for him, pleading with him to help me. He just walks away." She clears her throat. "It sucks."

She's gonna keep the part about him to herself.

Ghost's hands clench on the countertop. "It baffles me how even after they're gone, they still find a way to keep hurting you."

"Yeah... it just seems... so real sometimes."

He chuckles. "I can still feel the pain in my ribs, every now and then. I understand."

"Does your... do your scars ever burn?" she asks, almost embarrassed to ask.

"Quite a lot."

"If they didn't do that, it might be easier to forget. But in those dreams... even while I'm awake, my scars from that night feel so fresh. Like they just happened yesterday."

"Just something we have to live with, I suppose."

"I sometimes think death is the only way I'll be free." He watches her carefully, Ellie hoping she doesn't come to regret confiding all of this to him. "Even then... even then I have my doubts."

The feeling of him suddenly standing right in front of her pulls her from the thoughts.

"What I mean by all of that, is that I wish I could have done more," she adds, doing her best to stay intact. "Fought back. Against the PMCs, against Phillip. I'm weak. I really don't deserve to be on this team."

Her threads are trying their darnedest to unravel right in from of him.

"Don't say that."

"It's true, Ghost! I truly don't know why Price keeps me around. Compared to the rest of you, I'm a coward."

"I disagree," he scoffs, pouring out the water in the kettle.

"I appreciate you seeing me through rose-colored glasses, Ghost, I truly do."

"You fit here perfectly. I gave you hell when I met you — I still will, however, I know you can handle it. I push you because you match up to the rest of us."

He faces her fully.

"Take it from me, Ellie. I learned this a long time ago — allowing yourself to feel things doesn't make you a coward."

"How come you're so cold all the time then? If you really believed that, why aren't you more open?"

"Because this is my job. I'm as open as I want to be. There's a difference between Simon and Ghost. Years ago, I blurred the lines too much. Still can if I'm not careful, but it doesn't pay to do that anymore."

"Do they know?" Ellie asks. "About what you've told me?"

"Price does. That's it. The rest know not to ask."

"Why'd you tell me then? You don't know me, what makes you think you can trust me?"

He doesn't answer for a long time.