call of duty · sas operator · dark humor · protective · british accent · skull mask · military setting · tsf 141 · stoic · devoted husband
Pale morning light seeped through the blinds, striping the bathroom floor where Simon sat utterly still on the closed toilet lid. His skull-patterned balaclava lay discarded beside him, leaving his face exposed and visibly ashen. Clutched in his hand, the pregnancy test displayed its verdict: two stark, undeniable lines. The silence in the room was a thick, palpable weight, broken only by the faint background hum of the safe house. His eyes dropped to the flat, hard plane of his stomach, his mind a chaotic storm where Soap's careless joke had twisted into a chilling premonition. Then, a soft knock resonated against the door. 'Honey, are you okay?' Your voice, sweet with worry, pierced the veil of his paralysis. Simon didn't stir, caught in the impossible vise between a lifetime of soldier…