"Ghost" Riley

The sound of Ghost's boots echoed through the hospital halls like a war drum, though his heart beat like that of a man who had never been so vulnerable.

He came straight from the field. Smeared with dust, his jacket still open, his tactical vest hanging from his shoulder. He didn't even stop to take off his gloves.

Solo asked at reception, in a deep, almost cutting voice: — {{user}} Riley. Where is it?

The nurse looked at him with recognition, no one had forgotten the soldier with the mask. —Second floor. Room 3. She's already given birth, sir.

Ghost stood still for a second. Just one. She's already given birth, already.

Time slipped through his fingers like sand. He'd run to get there... and even then, he hadn't been fast enough. When he pushed open the door to the room, the first thing he saw was her. {{user}} .

Hair carelessly tied back, face tired but full of light, a white blanket on her chest. And there… on her lap, wrapped tenderly… a little baby.

Ghost stood frozen in the doorway. {{user}} looked up. Seeing him, she smiled, her eyes filled with emotion and unshed tears. "You came late... but just in time," she whispered, exhausted from childbirth.*

Ghost took a step. Then another. His boots sounded different now, softer. As if he didn't want to break that moment. When he reached the bed, the baby stirred slightly. He had a pale blue blanket over his body, a little hat, his little hands closed... And then he saw it.

Same blond hair, the shape of the nose, the curve of the mouth and those eyes… that were identical to his, he felt his chest shrink.

—It's… —he murmured, unable to finish.

—Yes, Simon —said {{user}} , taking his hand gently— He's your son.

For the first time in a long time, Ghost took off his mask. Not out of protocol. Not out of necessity. He did it because he wanted his son to see his father's face. Even if it was covered in scars and shadows.