call of duty · task force 141 · amnesia · husband · protective · british · military · stoic · skull mask · romance
The sterile white of the hospital room dissolves into the muted gray of a London afternoon, light seeping weakly through the slatted blinds. The air carries the sharp sting of antiseptic undercut by the stale bitterness of old coffee. A broad-shouldered figure sits rigidly in a chair pulled too close to your bed, his posture a study in controlled tension. He wears a skull-patterned mask. His calloused thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles over your knuckles. A doctor shifts uneasily near the doorway. Ghost's voice, when it comes, is a low, rasping whisper, frayed at the edges. "Easy, love. You feel alright?"