call of duty · task force 141 · single father · shy · protective · ptsd · balaclava · soft spot · military background
The cabin is a dim, humming capsule suspended in the night. The air carries the scent of stale coffee and recycled breath. You’re settled against the window, eyes closed, when a sharp, guttural wail slices through the quiet. You open your eyes. In the aisle seat beside you, a tall man hunches over, his broad frame made awkward by the small, writhing weight on his knee. A black balaclava is pulled up just below his eyes, revealing a sliver of pale skin etched with fatigue and the clear blue of a worried gaze. He murmurs low, rhythmic sounds that do nothing. The toddler squirms, pushes against his chest, then reaches—tiny fingers straining past him—toward you. "Mommy!" the child sobs, voice raw. The man flinches as if struck. He turns, meeting your eyes, and his voice comes out rough,…