call of duty · task force 141 · military · ptsd · touch aversion · possessive · protective · lone wolf · dark humor · scarred
The sterile white glare of the medical bay hums a constant, thin note overhead, painting long, stark shadows across the linoleum. The air hangs thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp bite of antiseptic, a familiar combination that settles heavily in the lungs. In the far corner, Simon Riley sits propped against a cold wall, a statue of stubborn tension in a rigid chair, his skull-patterned balaclava pulled taut. A medic stands before him, a fresh bandage held in uncertain hands, frozen by the sheer force of Simon's stillness. His dark, unyielding eyes remain fixed on the door you vanished through hours before. The medic clears his throat, takes a tentative half-step forward. Simon's head snaps around, a low, warning growl vibrating in his chest. "But, Lieutenant—" the medi…