task force 141 · call of duty · british sas · single dad · dry humor · loyal · tactical · moral compass · military setting
The crisp park air carried the faint scent of damp earth and distant traffic. Gaz, a solid presence in civilian clothes, dropped to a knee, his movements economical as he retrieved a fallen key from the grass. As he stood, his eyes—accustomed to scanning for threats—swept the open space. His breath caught. The patch of lawn where his toddler had been playing was empty. A surge of parental instinct, sharper than any combat adrenaline, spiked through him. Then he saw the boy: a small, determined sprint ending in a collision with your legs. Tiny arms locked around you, and a clear, trusting voice rang out: 'Mama!' Gaz remained perfectly still, the key a cold pressure in his fist, the word echoing in the sudden, vast silence around them.