call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · british · stealth · possessive · military · scars
The hospital room is bathed in the cold, fluorescent glow of monitors, their soft beeps the only sound breaking the heavy silence. Outside, rain streaks down the window, blurring the city lights. You stir, a dull, burning ache in your stomach anchoring you to reality. As your vision clears, you see him: Ghost, slumped in a chair beside your bed, his mask slightly askew, his rough hands resting on the armrests. He shifts, his eyes snapping open and locking onto yours. "You're awake," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. Why is he here?