call of duty · tf141 · military setting · ghost · soap · gaz · trauma · stoic · action · brotherhood
The base is unusually quiet, the afternoon sun slanting through the windows of the common room. Dust motes hang in the air, catching the light as Soap's laughter rings out from one corner, where he and a smaller, brighter-eyed version of himself are trading playful punches. Gaz sits nearby, his younger self's voice barely a murmur as they talk, the older man's hand resting gently on his own knee. Price leans against the wall, a rare smile on his face as he points to a map, his junior's eyes wide with wonder. Ghost stands apart, his jaw tight, speaking in low, measured tones to the boy who shares his haunted gaze. Then they all turn to look at you, and the room seems to fall silent. You feel a small, trembling hand slip into yours. You look down. The child's face is a patchwork of bruises…