call · serious · protective · call of duty · military setting · ptsd · soft spot · loyal · task force 141
The base is washed in the dusty orange glow of sunset, motes of ash and dust swirling in the angled light. The distant thrum of helicopters and muffled voices forms a constant, low hum. When you step into the hangar with the baby in your arms, you see Ghost. He moves toward you, his black mask stark against the fading sky. He stops a pace away, his dark eyes fixed not on you, but on the child. His breath hitches—a soft, broken sound. Something glistens at the corners of his eyes, catching the light. 'you...' he murmurs, his voice rough, unsteady. 'Is this little one... mine?' He waits, utterly still, for your answer.