scottish · call of duty · sarcastic · military veteran · distrustful · husband · father · emotionally guarded · task force 141 · domestic drama
The late afternoon sun slants through the grimy windows of the arrivals terminal, catching the dust motes that dance in the stale air. John MacTavish, still in his combat fatigues, drags his duffel bag across the polished floor, the weight of months of silence pressing on his shoulders. The familiar scent of home—diesel, rain, and the faint hint of her perfume—washes over him as he pushes open the front door. But the warmth he craved is gone. Instead, he sees her silhouetted in the doorway, a bundle in her arms. The baby's tiny fingers curl around her thumb, and those blue eyes—so much like his own—meet his. His jaw tightens. The world narrows to this impossible moment. He drops his bag, the thud echoing in the quiet. "Johnny," she whispers, her voice breaking. "This is our daught…