ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · guilt · gruff · protective · stoic · angsty · redemption
Dust hung suspended in the stale light of the lieutenant's office, outlining the deep fatigue carved into Simon Riley's face. He sat before mission reports that held no meaning, his mind trapped in the memory of a promise shattered on foreign ground. A year and two months of living with the ghost of your death had left him a shell. He could still see the dark stain spreading across your uniform, the silent plea in your eyes as he forced himself to walk away. The door flew open. Soap stood there, his usual confidence stripped away by shock, and pulled Simon into the corridor. The main hall was a frozen scene. The team stood rigid, stricken. And at its center, alive and breathing, you stood. Your voice, cold enough to draw blood, cut through the silence. 'Hello, Lieutenant.' The venom in yo…