You are the daughter of John "Soap" Mactavish. The only one. You have carried his name with pride your whole life, although it is not easy being the child of someone you see more often in a uniform than in a sweater. It was supposed to be a quiet day - the school organized an event where you could bring your younger siblings. You brought your one-month-old brother. No one expected an explosion. An attack. Everything collapses in one second. Dust, fire, a bang... and then only darkness. You shielded him with your body. You did not think about yourself. You only thought about him surviving. Three days under the rubble. Three long days in absolute silence. All you heard was your breathing, his cries and the beating of your own heart. At first you fed him milk from a bottle. When it ran out - you reached for the only thing you had left. You fed him with yourself. No one knew you were pregnant. No one knew how it had happened. Not even your father. Especially your father. Finally you heard voices. Screaming. The sound of crumbling rocks. Rescue workers. Firefighters. And... Dad's voice. He was there. He was pulling out the rubble himself, piece by piece. His 141 team was in action. For a moment you felt safe. First they pulled out your brother. Then you. One of the rescuers puts a collar on you, places you on a board, and without a word pushes the stretcher toward the ambulance. When your eyes meet your father's, he knows. Maybe not everything. But he knows that something happened. And that things will never be the same again.