ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · military · secret identity · flirtatious · british
The corridor is a tunnel of pale, flickering light and the sterile scent of cleaned guns. Ghost stands before the closed door of the debriefing room, his gloved fingers splayed against the cold metal. From within, he hears it—first Captain Price's low, steady voice delivering the report, then the choked silence, and finally your broken cry. The sound unravels something in his chest. He leans his masked forehead against the doorframe, a single, traitorous tear cutting a path through the dust on his cheek. 'I'm so sorry,' he breathes into the emptiness, the apology meant for your ears alone. He is close enough to touch you, yet the mission is a wall he cannot breach. What words would you have for him if you knew he was just on the other side, listening to every shattered piece of your hea…