"Bloody yank..." Ghost spat. "I hate to burst your bubble, but, in case you haven't noticed, there is no possible way to bring someone back! Dead is dead!"

Now Shepard laughed horsely. So not only did he loose his eye, but also his mind... "That's where you're wrong! There is a way!" He then stepped towards Soap and spun him around and gestured to his back. "See? Nothing here yet! He's not one of you." He then grabbed him and pushed his head down and pointed to that, Soap let out a choked shout. "There's no horns, so not a demon either." And finally he just shook him around, making a dizzy and irritated Soap swear like a sailor. "And he still resembles himself! He's not a lost." Finally he let the unfortunate man go, and Soap feel forward, too woozy from Shepard's shaking to stand up. "In short, he could be revived."

Roach and Ghost glared at him. The former dared to step towards him to help Soap up. "It just means he isn't anything yet. But you can't come back to the land of the living."

"Yes, it does." Shepard said begrudgingly, or otherwise known as his normal voice. "You and Sanderson couldn't come back because you were chosen at death to be another couple of doves... I had been on the run from all of you, that's why I'm nothing. I'll vanish soon enough. And I'm already starting to go."

"And why should we trust you?" Ghost challanged. "I might not 'of written the book on who a guy should trust, but I know that when someone KILLS YOU, you aren't suppose to trust the bastard."

Shepard crossed his arms, "So you don't believe me?"

"Not saying I don't. Just that I don't TRUST you." Ghost answered in a sneer that was covered by his mask. "There's a difference."

"Well I'm not lying." Shepard assured, even though it didn't convince any of the three in the slightest. "I can prove it, that I'm not a demon trying to get another fresh kill." He pulled his sleeve up to show his arm, which looked almost like crumbling stone. His hand was deterriorating slowly. The rest of his skin looked sort of like crinkled paper, very bumpy and unsmooth.

"Okay. So you are a rougue." Roach concluded. "Doesn't mean we should trust you."

"And why, in bloody hell, would you try and help MacTavish?" Ghost added.

Shepard looked face to face, and sighed. "Because... I don't need another guy turning into dust like me. Consiter it me being generous, or just sorry..."

"Both of which you are incapable of." Soap retorted.

Shepard glared for a second, then shook his head. "All I can tell you is that if you want it work then you'll just have to trust me."

Everyone exchanged glances, none knew for sure what to think of this. But since it was Soap's wellbeing, it was his call, and he knew it. Whatever it was he would choose he'd need to deal with the desision for the next couple centuries before he can return.

Everyone heard Nikolai's scream from the bathroom and were all gathered at the door in an instant. Price was in front of everyone, about to knock, when he figured that the man wouldn't just start screaming about anything. Something was genuinely wrong. So Price opened the door, via kicking it open.

There Nikolai laid in a feedle position, a pool of blood around him slowly forming. Aside form that, all Price could point out that was odd was just the fact that there was NO WAY something could have inflicted the wound on Nikolai's back. It was a slash wound, right? Not saying that it was strange in the slightest, because it wasn't, but the Russian was also with an absence of his shirt, which was in a pile of fabric near the sink.

When Price and Yuri picked him up, the older noted how the blood was thinner, deluted by water. Clearly this had happened during or just after the unfortunate bastard took a shower. Without much time to waste, they moved him to his room and the medic was quick to patch up the wound.

"He should be alright soon. Just let him rest, he will be moving around in the morning for sure."

"Thanks." Price responded gruffly. "But I think I'll stay here with him, in case he does."

"Well when he does wake up, make sure he takes it easy." The medic added. "And if he's in too much pain, just call me in so I can give him something to dull it."

"I will." He assured, and with that, the medic left. But Yuri stood there in the room a little while longer. Price finally came to break the silence with a question. "Why are you still here?"

"Nikolai's a friend." Yuri sighed, seating himself in a chair, which he ended up sitting backwards and resting his chin on his hands. "I feel like I owe him... and someone else..."

"And who might that be?"

"It wouldn't matter who I told. It wouldn't change the image of me the guy has now." Yuri explained shaking his head. "And... I'm not sure what he'd say if I told him..."

"But who, Yuri?" Price questioned.

The Russian looked over his shoulder at the door and stood. "I think Demitre's calling me. I have to go." Price knew for a fact that no one had, but he didn't bother pushing for information when it was clear he wouldn't get an answer where he'd like it. He still has much to learn...

"I can still teach you a thing or two, old man." Soap's voice echoed in his mind.

I know you could, son... I wish you were still here... Price thought. I'm starting to feel like I don't know myself anymore...