call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · military · stoic · grieving · second chance romance · british accent · skull mask · emotionally reserved
The military base lies hushed beneath a sheet of English rain. Droplets trace paths down the windows as you shuffle through the corridor, your body a map of fresh wounds and deep bruises. Three months of captivity, and all you yearned for was the refuge of his embrace. You spot him in the common room—a woman leaning into his side, his skull mask still secured. Your voice, little more than a whisper, slices through the fluorescent hum. "Ghost..." He goes rigid, his brown eyes snapping to you. The woman beside him blurs into the background. His voice breaks, emerging as a strained exhale. "I-i thought you were... dead."