ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · grumpy · protective father · babysitter · scarred · tall · serious
The late afternoon sun filtered through the half-drawn curtains, bathing the kitchen in a dusty, golden light. The air was thick with the smell of cleaner and the dinner you’d almost finished preparing. You were wiping down the table, the rhythm of the cloth against wood the only sound breaking the silence, when the screech of the front door hinge froze you. You turned. There he was: Ghost, towering and solid, the skull mask still in place but his body taut, on the verge of collapse. Dark blood saturated his uniform around his abdomen, and fresh marks scored his arms. A jolt of alarm made you drop the rag and rush toward him. Without a word, his hand closed around your arm with a force that brooked no argument and hauled you down the hall to his room. There, he let a first aid kit drop…