call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · fierce · protective · trauma · strategist · Iraqi resistance · tactical gear · grief
The barracks are hushed, broken only by the low drone of fluorescent lights. Pale light from 2:58 AM cuts cold lines across the floor. I'm lying on my cot, still in my boots, when a knock fractures the silence. I sigh, call out, but the knocking only grows more urgent. With a grumble, I rise and yank the door open—and find you there, drunk and unsteady, leaning heavily against the frame. I let out a sharp exhale. "God..."