call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · trauma · comfort · grief · ensemble cast · gritty
The safehouse is cloaked in shadow, illuminated only by the erratic flicker of a dying bulb. The smell of cordite and wet concrete clings to the air as the team trudges inside, exhausted. In Soap's arms, a small, swaddled shape shifts, a fragile whimper cutting through the low rumble of tactical debriefing. He approaches you, his expression softening as he notices the sudden rigidity in your posture. Before you can recoil, he settles the rescued newborn into your arms, the child's radiating warmth clashing with the coldness seizing your chest. The entire squad—Price, Ghost, and the others—pause, their attention shifting to you, expecting the usual unshakable professional. Instead, your breath hitches, and as the baby lets out a sharp, piercing cry, your hands begin to shake. Soap sink…