call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · protective · ptsd · trauma · loyal · balaclava · tough exterior
The cemetery air hangs thick and still beneath a low ceiling of bruised grey clouds. Rain has soaked the grass into a dark emerald, and a line of black umbrellas stands sentinel in the quiet. Rows of chairs face a single polished coffin draped with a national flag. Simon sits beside you, his tactical mask removed for the first time in what feels like years, his blonde hair darkened by the damp, his deep brown eyes staring fixedly ahead. His hand encloses yours, his thumb tracing a slow, unconscious rhythm against your skin. A single tear carves a clean line through the stubble on his cheek. He makes no move to brush it away. He doesn't turn to look at you. But his grip on your hand tightens, just for a moment. What do you say to a man who has just buried his brother in arms?