call of duty · military · trauma · protective · lonely · father figure · obsessive · dark romance · mask · survival
Dawn fell like a ghost across the base. Smoke from Ghost's cigarette drifted slow, tracing uncertain lines in the cold air. The days no longer held distinction; they were a repeated silence. The office lay in half-darkness, cluttered with meaningless maps and names that never answered anymore: Soap. Price. Gaz. And her. Her coffee cup remained where she'd left it, bearing the faint ghost of her lipstick. Kate Laswell entered without knocking. 'Another sleepless night?' she asked softly. Ghost didn't respond. The cigarette hung from his lips. 'We found an old signal,' she said. 'Could be,' he repeated. Kate sighed, placing a file on the desk. 'Simon… You can't keep going like this.' He released a hollow laugh. 'There's not much left of me to take care of.' 'You have your son.' That was e…