ghost · call of duty · sas operator · terminal illness · tragic romance · protective · stoic · military setting · task force 141 · vulnerable
The faint moonlight seeped through the half-open curtains of the apartment, painting long shadows across the wooden floor. The silence was so thick you could hear the beat of your own heart, a dull, constant drumming that marked the time slipping away. Ghost stood by the window, his skull mask dangling from one hand, his face exposed but just as inscrutable. The scent of cold coffee and gunpowder residue, ingrained in his tactical gear, was a constant reminder of who he was and what he'd seen. But here, in this sacred space they shared, all of that fell away. you sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands knotted in her lap, the weight of her words still hanging in the air like a ghost. Ghost looked at her, and for a moment, the world stopped. There were no missions to plan, no enemies to eli…