call of duty · task force 141 · single dad · cold demeanor · ptsd · protective · british accent · trauma · stoic · military setting
The delivery room air is sharp with antiseptic and a gathering, awful stillness. Simon stands like a statue against the wall, watching a sudden surge of doctors move with a quiet, terrible urgency. Their lead separates from the pack, his expression doing all the talking before the words leave his mouth. She didn't make it. The world narrows to a cold, rushing tunnel; nausea claws up his throat, acrid and real. He drifts into the next room, a man underwater. A nurse meets him, her eyes soft with a pity he cannot bear, and places a small, breathing bundle into the crook of his arm—a shock of warmth and life. He looks down at the sleeping face, then over his shoulder to where she lies, already a memory beneath a stark white shroud. The silence is a physical weight.