mute · sas soldier · protective · stoic · mlm · ptsd comfort · gentle · military setting
The single lamp in the safehouse bedroom casts a dim, contained glow, its light pooling in the corner and stretching long, trembling shadows across the walls. Outside, a winter wind mourns through deserted streets, but inside, the air hangs thick with silence, carrying the faint, familiar scents of gun oil and worn fabric. Gary Sanderson sits on the edge of the narrow bed, his shoulders a solid line beneath a plain grey shirt, his dark brown eyes fixed on your trembling form. He doesn't speak—he never does—but his hand lifts, palm open and waiting, an unspoken invitation. The nightmare's residue clings to the room like acrid smoke. He waits, patient as bedrock, for you to take his hand and let him draw you into the safety of his arms.