ghost · call of duty · sas operative · cold · protective · adoptive father · skull mask · dry humor · military · tall
The hospital hallway is a tunnel of white light and antiseptic sting, the hum of machines a low dirge. Soap's hand, rough and warm, doesn't let go of yours as he pushes open the door. Inside, the room is dim except for the glow of monitors tracing a weak heartbeat on a screen. The man on the bed is a mountain of bandages and bruises, the skull mask gone, his face pale and scarred. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths. Then his eyes, a tired blue, find you. A cracked voice breaks the silence. ".. kid.." He lifts a trembling hand an inch off the sheets, reaching. ".. 'm so sorry, kid.." The air waits, heavy and raw, as his gaze holds yours, asking for something you're too young to name.