This has to be one of the worst stories I've managed to wring out of my brain so far but I shall force it on you anyway! *poses grandly*

The basic idea is that John is slowly dying from blood loss after killing Shepherd. This takes place at the VERY begining of MW3 where they're rushing him to medical aid. I'm under the belief that if there were such a thing as heaven or afterlife, Simon would probably meet him halfway and tell him to piss off and go back to living again... he really is quite demanding.

Don't have a go about this being religous. It's not.

Each breath came as a ragged gasp. Each heart beat thicker. Harder. It was amazing and yet silly how aware you become of your body when you're dying. Seems ironic since you're going to stop living in it in a few moments. Like that saying 'Live every moment like it's your last'. You really only start living every moment to like your last when you know you've only got moments left.

Silence. Memories flash past. Time in the SAS, mum racing me on the quadbike around the farm. Dad's funeral. Raelee's smile...

The noise rammed through my consciousness again. Panicked voices. Yells for help. They could have been speaking Russian for all I cared. None of it made sense to me.

I was almost angry with how disjointed everything was. Here I was trying to live 'every moment like my last' and most of my moments were whizzing past.

I thought of home. Dad. Maybe I'll get to see him again? Or maybe I'll go to hell. I would have laughed if I could breathe.

I could hear each breath in my ears. It was like I was living inside one of those shells that people claim you can hear the ocean in. Hear the ocean my arse. The only thing I ever heard in it was the echo of air and the owner of the shell repetitively asking if I could hear it. There was nothing oceany about it!

I blinked blearily, at the face in front of mine, panic poorly hidden in his voice. Something about 'hanging in'? I let my eyes close again. I didn't want to hang about anymore. Dying almost seemed peaceful. Maybe death was more so? A nice break from a hard life. Kinda like the world's longest holiday. The idea definitely appealed.

"John"

I opened my eyes. The calm, clear, cutting voice didn't match the scene in front of my eyes. The rushing. The panic.

"John"

I let my eyes, slide closed deciding that I was most definitely going mad. Riley was dead. So why could I hear him as if he were standing next to me, whispering in my ear?

A bright light. I frowned, annoyed that my eyes were apparently refusing to close. I squeezed them shut. Oddly enough, the light stayed and my eyes were most definitely shut…

Oh god no. I could have groaned.

After all the shit I'd been through! After all the sights and sounds I had experienced in the great-wide-fucked-up world, I HAD to get the bright light! I cringed inwardly. It was so cliché it was embarrassing to see it!

Oh well. I had better do the decent thing and walk towards it like I was supposed to…

"John"

"Piss off you English wanker! You're dead. I'm not. And now I have a fucking bright light to deal with!" I snapped, eying the bright light with distaste.

Suddenly, a shape appeared in my peripheral. I stumbled backwards, blinking at it in shock. Not it. Him.

"S-Simon?"

He smiled that trademark cocky grin, light blue eyes crinkling, short cropped blonde blonde hair seemingly ruffling in a non-existent breeze.

"You're alive?"

"Nah. Dead as a dodo!" he laughed.

"But… how am I-"

"Seeing me?" he shrugged, "You're dying John."
"I gathered that," I muttered, studying the surroundings. It was like we were standing in the worlds cleanest waiting room. "This is a bit beige," I said vaguely, gesturing at the bland surroundings in distaste.

Simon laughed, "I never understood that saying."

"You know. Boring." I struggled with the words, letting my wrist go limp, "Floppy."

"Floppy?" snorted Simon. "You obviously don't like the colour."

"Hate it," I replied, still peering at my surroundings.

"I missed you," grinned Simon. I grinned back at him.

"I missed you too."

He sighed contentedly, putting his hands in his pockets, stretching out his back, "But you know that you can't stay here."
I raised my eyebrows at him, "Why not?"

"Cause it's not your time."
I blinked at him, confused, before laughing, "What a beige thing to say!"

He smiled. But this time, it didn't touch his eyes.

The mirth quickly left me. "You're being serious?" I asked quietly. He nodded.

"Don't I have a choice in the matter?"
"Usually you would," he chuckled, clapping my shoulder, "But I'm here. So. No."

"I thought I was your CO," I muttered coyly.

He winked, "Since when did we ever care about rankings?"
I smiled. He definitely had a point. "How's Gary?"

"He's good. Missing his missus though."
"Poor Becca," I murmured.

"What about Raelee?"
I frowned, confused, "What about her?"

"You know how she's going to be if you go."
"You know how she'd be anyway, having found out her husband is an international war criminal."

"She'd know the truth."
"Would she?" I met his gaze steadily.
"She loves you," Simon said quietly. "Of course she'd know."

I hesitated. Whether she loved me had never been a question. But she only knew the bare minimum about what we did. What if she thought I had died a monster? A traitor.

"Am I going to survive this war?"

Simon smirked, shifting closer and taking my hand, staring intently at my palm. "Well your life line is very short!"

I whipped my hand away from him and he laughed. "Honestly John, I don't know. But what I do know is that you're procrastinating heading back."
"I was hoping I'd be able to get the worlds longest holiday when I died!" I laughed, gesturing at the light filled nothing, "It's fair boring for a sight seeing holiday isn't it!"

"This is only the waiting room," he smiled.

I looked around, "Does this work like it does in a restaurant where you have to wait till a table's free?"

"No you bloody idiot!" he snorted. "You're only here because you have a decision to make. And I'm only here because I'm telling you, you have to go back"

"Not much of a decision is it?"

"Nope," he grinned. "So go on. If you left Price and Nikolai now they wouldn't have enough people to help clear their names. And how selfish would that be?"

I had to agree with him there. They had done so much for me. It would be an arse of a thing to die on them without at least repaying the favor first.

The light started to fade, the room dissolving into black. Simon gave me a final smile and shook my hand.

"Will you still be here when I come back?" I asked hurriedly. I was desperate to see my friends again.

His laugh filled my ears again. "Course. Another time. Another place. Maybe I'll even meet you halfway…"