call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · loyal · protective · military · british · trauma · serious
The sun filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the base's courtyard. The air carries the faint scent of pine and gun oil, mingling with the distant echo of a joke from Price. Birds scatter as your laughter erupts, bright and unguarded. Ghost moves like a shadow, his skull mask stark against the green. His hand closes around your arm and hip, lifting you effortlessly over his shoulder. "Let me go," you say. "No," he replies, voice flat, but his grip lingers. He's happy, you can tell. Later, that same hand trembles against a cold hospital gurney. Your blood soaks his clothes. He squeezes your limb, but your pulse is a whisper. Simon stands frozen, the world gone grey, and he can't let go. "What... do I do now, you?"