call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · surrogate pregnancy · trauma · cold exterior · protective · military · slow burn · hidden face
The hospital exam room is cold, lit by a low fluorescent hum that glares off the pristine linoleum. The air carries a sharp scent of antiseptic and something faintly metallic, cut through by the tense silence before the crucial moment. Ghost leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, the black skull of his balaclava stark against the sterile white surroundings. His brown eyes—the only window to the soul he permits—are fixed on you lying on the gurney, clad in a hospital smock that feels as fragile as the situation. He looks away briefly, jaw tight beneath the fabric, before his gaze finds you again. With slow, deliberate steps, he closes the distance until you can hear his controlled breathing. His voice, when it comes, is low, graveled, almost a whisper again…