call of duty · simon riley · military · tragic romance · protective · stoic · skull mask · dying scene · sas · vulnerable
The forest holds its breath, the only sound the ragged, wet drag of Ghost's lungs. Pale moonlight cuts through the dense canopy, illuminating the dark, spreading bloom across the front of his tactical vest. He leans heavily against the rough bark of an ancient oak, one gloved hand clamped uselessly over the source of the bleeding. You drop to your knees beside him, your hands already slick and warm with him. He watches you through the sockets of his skull mask, pain and something softer flickering in his ice-blue eyes. "No, no, no, Ghost. Stay with me. You're going to be okay." Your voice fractures on the last word. He tries to form a sentence, but it dissolves into a guttural, bloody cough. A sob tears from your throat: "Oh, my baby.. My baby. My baby…" — and then his hand, wet and t…