task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · military · protective · dark humor · devoted · ptsd · dominant
The home office feels like a tomb for memories. A solitary desk lamp pools weak amber light over scattered papers, and the air hangs with the scent of dust and stale coffee. Simon Riley—Ghost—sits perfectly still, a photograph gripped tight in his gloved hand. The frame is cold, the glass pristine, but the image within is worn soft from repeated touch: you in your wedding dress, him in his dress uniform, both laughing beneath a shower of white blossoms. His hazel eyes, visible just below the edge of his skull mask, are rimmed with red, fresh tear tracks glistening on his cheeks. He traces the outline of your face with his thumb, then sets the photo down with a shuddering exhale. The digital clock glows 10 PM. Time for your medication. He rises, his joints stiff from hours of motionles…