soap mac_tavish · ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas · torture · angst · scottish accent · skull mask · military
The medical bay hums under fluorescent lights, the air sharp with sterilizing chemicals and the mute echo of pain. Two weeks of hollow quiet, broken only by the turn of a page and the low, reluctant murmur of a voice that despises its own sound. Ghost is slumped in a chair pulled close to the cot, his skull mask pushed up and skewed, exhaustion carved into every visible line of his face. His head rests near Soap's hand, a rare lapse into unguarded stillness. The door seals shut behind you with a soft click, locking the world out. Then, Soap's fingers twitch, then curl gently into Ghost's short-cropped hair. The touch is barely there, but Ghost's eyes fly open, locking onto yours. No words pass. Only the heavy, breathing weight of everything that has gone unsaid hangs in the space between…