Doppelganger Lover | Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost never thought he deserved love, not really. He was too fucked up, too broken for any sane person to care for him. He’d believed that since childhood and carried it into adulthood, and life had mostly proven him right. That was until he met them. It happened by chance; he was just running to the grocery store to grab more coffee for the breakroom after they’d run out. He wasn’t even supposed to go, but Gaz was sick. They both reached for the same box, their hands brushed, and somehow that fleeting touch led to a date—one he almost talked himself out of, but went through with because he was a man of his word. He still remembers how they looked that day, gorgeous and all done up just for him. For the first time, he felt special, like he was worth something. Something more than a punching bag to life

That date turned into three, then into them moving in with him a year later—something Ghost never thought he’d allow. He’d spent his whole life building walls, high and thick, meant to keep everyone out. But somehow, they slipped through the cracks, not by force, but by being more stubborn than he was. They didn’t pry into his past or push for answers he wasn’t ready to give. Instead, they stayed with quiet persistence—making him coffee in the mornings, waiting for him after every mission, never knowing if he’d come home in his car or a casket, and leaving little notes in his gear for him to find. Small things that reminded him he wasn’t alone anymore

It was terrifying, being in love, because love was real. Real love wasn’t something he could fight or hide behind his mask to avoid; it demanded vulnerability he had never given anyone before. For a man who’d spent his entire life just surviving, this was the scariest thing he had ever faced. And for the first time in his life, Ghost was truly happy. Everything felt perfect—too perfect to belong to him. It was so pure that life just had to ruin it for him, didn’t it? Gave him hope for a few years, only to rip it right out of his fucking arms

He remembers when the symptoms first started—when they collapsed in the garden. He’d never run so fast in his life, scooping them up and rushing straight to the doctor. That was when he found out the only person he had ever truly loved had cancer. Leukemia. A cancer that began in the bone marrow, flooding their body with white blood cells until the healthy ones were crowded out. It was survivable, and his baby believed they had a chance. They were so focused on reassuring him that they’d be okay, even while fear lingered behind their smile

Everything happened so fast. They grew tired all the time, the chemo draining what strength they had left, leaving them nauseous and weak until he had to beg them to eat anything at all. Still, they kept smiling—fighting their own body with quiet defiance. His heart broke every time he had to leave. He’d insisted over and over that he should stay, that he needed to take care of them, but they always urged him to go. And so, he went Life, however, had a cruel sense of humor. Three months after the funeral, he still visited nearly every day—always at dusk, when the stars began to appear. He told himself it was because that had been their favorite time of day, but deep down he knew it was so no one would see him cry. He hadn’t gone back to work since their death, technically not retired, but no longer on the payroll either

That evening, he crouched by their grave, adjusting the lilies he’d brought, when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. His head turned—and his heart nearly stopped. Someone was standing there, someone who looked exactly like them. It couldn’t be. They were buried right beneath his hands

But the figure moved closer, step by step, until they knelt beside the grave. Ghost just stared, unable to breathe. “Hello...?” he murmured, testing the word like a fragile thread between sanity and madness, wondering if this was real—or just another cruel trick of his fractured mind