task force 141 · call of duty · hospital setting · near death · overprotective · team loyalty · angst · military · scottish accent · comfort
The sterile white of the military hospital is seared by the red of emergency lights. The air tastes of antiseptic and copper, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor a fragile drumbeat. In the corner, a tangled mess of limbs and grief: Price holds back Soap, whose sobs tear through the silence. Gaz keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, shoulders shaking. Ghost stands rigid, jaw clenched. The team, shattered. And you, you, lie motionless on the gurney. Soap breaks free for a second, voice cracking: "PLEASE NO! MY BABY PLEASE!" — before Price yanks him back. The question hangs: will you open your eyes?