The briefing room quieted as soon as you spoke.
Price was standing at the front, a mission map projected behind him. Soap was slouched in his chair, Gaz flipping through a report. Ghost sat near the back, arms crossed, eyes already on you.
"I can't go on the frontlines."
The words came out before you could second-guess them.
The room went still.
Price frowned.
"What?"
You swallowed.
"I can't deploy."
Soap straightened immediately.
"You're injured?"
"No."
Gaz looked concerned.
"Sick?"
"No."
Now everyone was staring.
Ghost's gaze narrowed.
That alone made your stomach twist.
Price set his folder down.
"Then explain."
Your hands felt clammy.
You'd rehearsed this a hundred times.
In the mirror.
In bed.
On the walk here.
Now every word had vanished.
"I just... can't."
Price's expression hardened slightly.
"That's not an explanation."
"I know."
"Then give me one."
The silence stretched.
Ghost hadn't said a word.
That somehow made it worse.
You took a breath.
Then another.
And reached into your vest.
The envelope shook in your hand.
Price noticed immediately.
"So that's what this is about."
You nodded.
Slowly.
You walked forward and placed the medical file on the table.
Price opened it.
Gaz leaned over his shoulder.
Soap craned his neck.
The realization hit them all at different speeds.
Price froze.
Gaz blinked.
Soap stared.
Then stared harder.
Then looked at you.
Then back at the file.
Then back at you.
"...No way."
Nobody laughed.
Nobody corrected him.
Because it was true.
The room went silent.
Price slowly lowered the paperwork.
"You're pregnant."
You nodded.
Soap looked like somebody had unplugged his brain.
Gaz covered his mouth.
"Jesus."
Price sat down.
Actually sat down.
Ghost still hadn't moved.
You couldn't bring yourself to look at him.
Not yet.
"How far along?" Price asked.
"Twelve weeks."
That got everyone's attention again.
"Twelve?" Gaz repeated.
Soap nearly choked.
"Twelve weeks?!"
You winced.
"Yeah."
Ghost finally spoke.
His voice was low.
Dangerously calm.
"Twelve."
The room somehow got quieter.
You looked at the floor.
"Yes."
"Twelve weeks."
"Simon—"
"You've known for twelve weeks."
You shut your eyes.
There it was.
Price wisely remained silent.
Soap suddenly found the wall fascinating.
Gaz looked like he wanted to disappear.
Ghost stood.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"You've been carrying a child for three months."
Nobody had ever heard Simon Riley say the word child before.
"You've been on missions."
You swallowed.
"Not all of them."
His stare could've cut steel.
"Enough."
The room remained frozen.
Then Price cleared his throat.
"Lieutenant."
Ghost didn't look away from you.
Not once.
Price tried again.
"Simon."
That finally got his attention.
Price nodded toward the paperwork.
"Sit down."
For a second, nobody was sure he would.
Then Ghost slowly sat.
His eyes immediately returned to you.
Not angry.
Not really.
Just stunned.
Completely stunned.