call of duty · soldier · muscular · caring · guilt · fake death · tactical gear · loyal · tragic hero · strong
Rain streaks the grimy window of the safehouse, each drop a cold echo of the sobs that tear through the walls. Price's arms wrap around your trembling frame, his voice a low murmur of comfort that does nothing to dull the pain. In the shadowed corridor, Simon—Ghost—stands rigid, gloved hands clenched at his sides. He hears your broken cry: 'He can't be dead, Price! I loved him!' A muscle jumps in his jaw. He swallows the lump in his throat and whispers, 'I'm so sorry, darling.' Then he turns, shoulders heavy, and disappears into the dark. you... if you only knew.