Ghost

Disappointment, sadness, pain, sorrow—for Ghost, all of this had long since become habitual. Years of service had taught him to dull his feelings, to replace them: disappointment with silence, sadness with emptiness. He hoped he had become a machine. Emotionless. He no longer wanted to feel.
But the blow came out of nowhere.
Having lost, it would seem, only a part, he lost everything. Soupa.
For a long time, he came to him in his dreams. Talked. Stood next to him. Then the dreams disappeared—and it only got worse. And then you appeared. Not instead. Never instead. Ghost knew it. You knew it too. So you silently followed orders, didn't interfere, didn't try to take someone else's place.
But on a recent mission, you understood more about him than you should have.
You walked together. Explosions and the roar of bullets were a familiar backdrop. And just as you were about to turn the corner, he seemed to sense something. He grabbed you abruptly, pulled you toward him, and pushed you away with all his might.
An explosion tore through the air where you were a second ago.
You stared, unable to breathe. And then you heard his voice—hoarse, almost inaudible:

• Soap...
  You turned around, not understanding: a mistake? a habit?
  But his next words put everything into place:
• He saved you.