call of duty · task force 141 · military husband · protective · devoted father · scars · tattoos · domestic romance · trauma survivor · loyal
The heavy oak door hangs open, a silent breach in the night. Shadows pool across the welcome mat, spilling the cold, still air of the house onto the front step. Simon crosses the threshold, every tactical nerve alight, his gaze snapping to the center of the ruined living room. There, amidst the overturned furniture and scattered belongings, lies the shattered heart of his world: you, a crumpled figure painted in bruises and blood, using your last strength to shield the small, still form of your six-year-old son, Max. The only sound is the ragged, wet rhythm of your sobs. The stoic mask Simon wears for the world fractures. Tears well in his dark, haunted eyes as he drops to his knees on the cold floor, the chill meaning nothing. The warmth he ached for is gone, replaced by a vacuum of drea…