Pairing: David Walker x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: They say, āSometimes you meet the right person at the wrong time,ā and nothing describes your relationship with Hesh Walker better. At the height of the Federation War, you broke up, keeping you apart for nearly four years. And now, in the quiet of the night, he calls you again.
Warnings:Ā Emotional Distress, Spoilers for CoD: Ghosts
Authorās Note: Hi, everyone!! Iām so excited to be back and writing again. Iām not sure if this will turn into a series or remain a one-shot, so please let me know what you think. Thank you so much for reading!!
The persistent vibration of your phone cuts through your sleep, buzzing again and again until it feels like the hundredth time. You roll onto your side with an exasperated groan, far too exhausted to deal with anyoneāmuch less be social at this hour.
āWhat time is it?ā you mumble to no one in particular, squinting at the alarm clock on your nightstand.
Far too early for anyone to be calling.
With a reluctant groan, you sit up in bedāgroggy and slightly irritated. Blinking away the haze, you fumble for your phone on the nightstand, still adjusting to the barracksā dim lighting.
āHello?...ā you mumble, answering without checking the caller ID. Thereās a pause on the line, silent at first, until a quiet sniffle breaks through from the other end.
You freeze, wondering if youāre hearing things. Slowly, you pull the phone away from your ear to check the caller IDāyour stomach tightening the moment your suspicions confirm themselves.
A wave of nostalgia washes over you, memories unfolding one by one as you stare at your ex-boyfriendās name on the screenāthe first time you met, the quiet moments you never imagined youād miss, the warmth of being understood. Then the familiar ache settles in, the breakup you both sensed long before it happenedāa split carved by distance, duty, and the relentless weight of war.
You swallow, your voice caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.
But for now, you can only focus on his voiceāexhausted, gentle, painfully familiar. Drawing in a slow, steadying breath, you try to summon the courage that suddenly feels so distant.
Your voice sounds hesitant, as if youāre unsure he even called you.
He chuckles at your groggy voice, his own sounding warm but a bit tired. āHey,ā he repeats. āHow have you been?ā
You stop, the question landing heavier than you expect. You take a moment, actually thinking about it instead of defaulting to the easiest answer.
After the breakup, you transferred from Fort Santa Monica to the mountains above Pasadena, assigned to a unit responsible for keeping the Federation from slipping through the jagged passes. Since then, your days have blurred into a rigid routineāwake up, train, stand lookout, collapse into bed, repeat.
Youāve gotten used to the monotony, but the ache beneath it never really fades.
You miss the Southern California that existed before all thisāthe golden beaches, sunlight warming your skin, crowds laughing without fear. A world that feels impossibly far away now, swallowed by checkpoints, barricades, and the bloodshed of war.
āItās boring here,ā you confess, eyes drifting to the window as you admire the mountains.
Even surrounded by fog, you find your thoughts drifting to Santa Monica Beach, remembering how beautiful the ocean lookedāeven with naval ships resting along the shore. āI miss the water.ā
He laughs, and the sound is sharp, reopening wounds you believed were long healed. āYeah?ā
āYeah.ā You laugh, though the sound fades quickly. A quiet settles between you, heavier than you expect. Desperate to keep the conversation alive, you try again.
āI heard the news,ā you murmur, hoping heāll pick up the thread.
He doesnāt respond, not right away.
For a moment, you think he has no idea what youāre talking about.
āYou know,ā you say, trying to soften the silence with a light, awkward laugh. āOur military finally beating the Federation, getting our territory back.ā
You pause, giving him space to react, but thereās nothingājust the quiet static of the line and the faint sound of his breathing. You press on, gently.
āI bet you and Logan canāt wait to go home,ā you add, his younger brotherās name slipping out naturally.Ā
The memory tugs a smile from youāthe three of you crowded around a bonfire, Heshās arm wrapped around your shoulders while Logan sat across from you, firelight flickering over his grin. The night had felt easy back then, the three of you trading stories about where you came from and who you were before the war changed everything.
You remember how they talked about losing their home during the ODIN strikes, how leaving San Diego wasnāt just a relocation but a wound they never fully healed from. They missed it fiercelyāits beaches, its warmth, the life theyād been forced to abandon.
You pull yourself out of your thoughts and refocus on the call, only then noticing his silence.
āHesh?ā you ask, finding his behavior odd.
He draws in a sharp, uneven breath, the words trembling from him.
You nearly drop your phone.Ā
That toneāraw, cracked, unravelingādoesnāt belong to the man you knew.
Throughout your time together, he had always been the anchorāthe one who carried the weight of war, the loss of his home, and the responsibility of protecting his little brother without ever faltering. His resolve had always seemed unshakable. And now, hearing it crack feels like something inside you fractures along with it.
But confusion sweeps in alongside the ache.
He had his familyāespecially Logan. He always had Logan. And after the breakup, he barely spoke to youāonce a year, maybe, just enough to let you know he was alive.
Yet now he speaks to you like no time has passed. Like he hasnāt been gone for years. Like youāve been by his side through the entire war, not just the first six years of it.
āWhat?ā you mumble, unsure if you heard him correctly.
āI need you,ā he says again, the words breaking apart as his voice cracks. You can hear the tears now, unmistakable, spilling faster than he can hold them back. āDadās dead, and Loganās goneāI donāt know where he is, Iāā
He stops abruptly, the rest of his sentence swallowed by a choked sob. The line goes quiet except for his uneven breathing, each inhale sounding like it costs him something he no longer has to give.
Memories of his family flood back immediatelyāElias patiently helping you with your rifle, stepping in whenever arguments with his son grew too intense. That quiet patience stayed with you, even after the breakup with Hesh.
And then thereās Logan. Just the thought of him makes your chest tighten. He wasnāt just Heshās little brotherāhe was yours too, in every way that mattered. Even now, you can still see the tears in his eyes when you sat him down and explained you were breaking up with Hesh.
His words leave your mind spinning, a dozen questions colliding at once. You open your mouth, ready to press for answers, desperate to understand whatās happened. But then you hear itāhis quiet, broken sobs on the other end of the line.
Questions can come later.
"Hey," you whisper, voice instinctively soft, hoping to comfort him. But the words catch in your throatāyou have no idea what to say.
"Please," he sobs, cutting through your hesitation. His breaths become ragged, each inhale catching painfully in his chest. He isnāt just cryingāheās gasping, fighting for air, for composure, for somethingāanything to anchor himself.Ā
āI need you to come backāā
You interrupt him, concern overriding every ounce of hesitation you had before. Your voice firmsānot harsh, never harshājust steady enough to ground him.
For a moment, it feels like muscle memory, like slipping back into the old rhythm of being the one who pulled him together under pressure, when the weight of command threatened to crush him.
āBreathe,ā you murmur, calming him. āYouāre okay. Iām right here.ā
Itās not the truthāyouāre probably hundreds of miles apartābut you offer it anyway. If the lie keeps him from shattering, youāll give him as many as he needs.
A strangled hum escapes him, fragile and frayed at the edges, but he tries. You hear him pull in a breathāunsteady, trembling, catching halfway through before he forces the rest of it out.
Shaky. Imperfect. But still a breath.
āItās not that simple,ā you remind him, your voice softening as the reality of a reassignment hits you. Weeks of paperwork, interviews, and briefings flash through your mind, making you wince.
But even as you speak, a part of you is already leaning forward, ready to runāalready imagining yourself going through it all again if he were to ask just one more time.
The line goes quiet for a moment, as if heās searching for a solution.
āIāā He stops himself, the words trailing off. He knows he canāt request a transfer for you. Despite his authority, such a move would draw unwanted attentionāespecially given your history. With the gap in your ranks now, even a hint of fraternization could land both of you in serious trouble.
With Logan still missing, he canāt afford any risks.
āPlease,ā he mumbles, seemingly losing hope.
Your chest tightens at the sound of his desperation.
You sigh, ready to apologize and hang up, but the words catch in your throat. The thought of himāalone, unsure of who to turn to, crying on the other end of the lineātugs painfully at your heart. You canāt leave him alone. Not again.
āIāā you falter, caught between hesitation and impulse. āIāll see what I can do, okay?ā you murmur, the promise spilling out before you can second-guess it.
For a moment, thereās silence on the other end, broken only by his uneven breathing.
āThank you.ā His voice cracksāstill fragile, but warm with gratitude.
The conversation drifts on for several minutes, moving from one topic to another as you catch up on each otherās lives, sharing soft laughter over memories that now feel bittersweet. Eventually, a yawn slips out of him, and you know exhaustion has finally caught up.
āHey,ā you whisper, catching his drifting attention.
āIāll let you go, okay? Iāll talk to you tomorrow,ā you whisper, murmuring a soft goodbye as he hangs up. The click of the line echoes through the quiet room, leaving you alone with the weight of everything that just happened.
With an exasperated sigh, you sink back into bed, gazing at the ceiling as shadows stretch across your face. Your mind races, already mapping out the threads youāll need to pull to make this transfer happen.Ā
But with Hesh waiting, youāre determinedāthis has to work.
Thank you so much for reading!!
