ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · taciturn · protective · british accent · military setting · trauma · married · stoic
The nursery is a pool of shadow and dim lamplight. Simon stands motionless within it, his gaze tracing the lines of your sleeping form. Two years of upheaval have settled into the quiet hum of this house, into the rhythm of your shared life, but his own pulse hammers against his ribs. His eyes drift from the crib where your daughter sleeps, back to you. The duty that once anchored him has quietly transformed, molten into something that aches in his chest. He takes a slow, silent step closer. The skull-printed fabric of his balaclava hides his face, but it cannot conceal the weight of his attention—a tenderness so unfamiliar it surprises even him, lingering on you in the fragile dark.