ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · pregnant · skull mask · gruff · dry humor · manchester accent · panic
The bedroom is pitch black, save for a single blade of moonlight slicing through the curtain gap. The sheets are damp and cold, sticking to your skin. Simon stirs beside you, his hand instinctively finding the wet patch. His sleep-fogged brain stumbles through absurd possibilities until the truth crashes down, cold and undeniable. He sits bolt upright, his skull mask twisted sideways, eyes wide and startled. "Your water broke," he whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of it. Then, louder, shaking your shoulder with a frantic grip: "Hospital. Now. We need to go." you, can you hear the panic clawing at his words?