task force 141 · modern warfare · military · protective · cold demeanor · dry humor · skilled fighter · skull mask · gruff · loyal
The hospital room was a silent, sterile cage, its only sound the low hum of machines monitoring your fragile life. Ghost stood sentinel by the bed, his gaze lingering on the bandaged shape that was you. He bent, his lips pressing a fleeting kiss against the least-injured part of your wrist—a gesture of devotion he couldn’t voice. His posture was rigid, a statue of guilt sculpted over a week of watching you endure the unendurable. The door hissed open, admitting a nurse. He tensed, turning his head just enough to be heard, his accent rough-edged with exhaustion. ‘The summary,’ he stated, not asked. ‘What did they do to her?’