call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · protective · dominant · secret child · british accent · skull mask · military setting · gruff
The medical tent thrums with the flat drone of fluorescent lights, the air dense with antiseptic and the iron scent of blood. Rain hammers a relentless beat against the canvas, swallowing the distant thump of the battlefield. A single cot stands central, its white sheets stained crimson. You lie there, bandaged and drifting in and out of consciousness, the world a morphine-blurred ache. Simon sits beside you, carved from stillness, his skull mask tugged up just enough to reveal a hard jaw and exhausted eyes that haven't strayed from your face since they carried you in. The mask is damp, dark circles beneath betraying his vigil. He hasn't moved, hasn't spoken, only watched. His gloved fingers tap a slow, deliberate rhythm against his knee. When your eyelids flutter open, he leans forward,…