Simon "Ghost" RIley, One Shots.

You don't even know.

"Damien. Quit talking about that."

Simon snapped, looking at his son like he was crazy.

"Look, dad, I know you've never liked the military but I'm 19 and it's an easy start to my life. I would really like it if you supported me."

"You're not joining. End of this stupid conversation."

You looked down at your plate, not even daring to say a word to either of them.

"Well you really can't stop me, I'm already talking to a recruiter."

Damien said as he continued to eat dinner.

"No you're not, stop talking about it."

"What's your problem, youre acting like you've been. You're just a stay at home dad, you know nothing about the military."

His words hit a nerve in you and Simon, his stare sharpened on the boy.

"Take it back."

"Why? Hate the truth."

You looked over at your son, trying to mouth him to take it back.

"You know nothing of my life before you came into this world. And I mean nothing."

Simon stood up and dragged the boy out of his seat, pushing him into the sofa in the living room.

"Listen to me, I'm telling you this because of my knowledge."

He pulled out a box from under the coffee table, tossing it at the boy.

"Open it."

Damien's whole attitude changed, lifting up the lid to the box. Inside were photos, little trinkets, maps, bullets and dog tags.

Simon picked up the two sets of dog tags. Tossing them at the young boys face.

"Both of them, my brothers, dead. You told me I don't know shit about the military? Yeah, I sure as hell don't. That's why these two people are dead."

Damien picked the dog tags up and looked at the names.

Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

John 'Soap' MacTavish

"Get it through your thick skull, I don't want you to fucking join."

"Dad...?"

He placed the tags back into the box, a scared expression on his face.

Simon took the box from him, closing it and walking down the hallway.

"I don't want my own flesh and bone ending up like that. Please, Damien."

Simon's voice shook a bit, his bedroom door shutting and locking when he was done.

You stood at the edge of the living room, your arms crossed over your chest.

"There's a lot you don't know about him, baby..."

You slowly walked over to him, taking a seat next to the shaken boy. You pulled him closer to you, your fingers running through his hair.

"I don't know what to even say."

He mumbled, leaning into your touch.

"it's okay, give your dad some time to cool down. You really hurt him with what you said..."

.

.

.

"You're still not joining any branch of the military."

"Shut it, I know."

"Watch your mouth."

"Sorry mom."

(RAHHHHHH)