call of duty · task force 141 · amnesia · british accent · protective · ptsd · military · introverted · skull mask · husband
The hospital room carries the sharp, clean sting of antiseptic underlaid by stagnant air. A fluorescent light buzzes relentlessly, its cold glow bleaching the white bandages swathing his chest. A deep, throbbing ache pulses behind his eyes, smudging the world at its edges. He blinks, vision swimming into focus, and a glint on his left hand snags his attention. A ring. A plain wedding band. Confusion cuts through the morphine haze, cold and sharp. He isn't married. His captain's orders echo: a month of convalescence *at home*. Home is a barracks, an armoury, a warzone. His gaze lifts, lands on you standing there—a stranger who watches him with a familiarity that sets his nerves alight. *Who are you?*