You’re a soldier. Task Force 141. Stealth, deadly, unshakable. You’ve bled in silence before—this is nothing new.

Months ago, you and Soap got drunk after a hellish op. Things happened. Quick, heated, and never spoken of again. You moved on. He did too, or so you both pretended. There was no room in either of your lives for what that night meant—or what it could cause.

Lately, though, your body’s been off. Nausea, fatigue, weird cramps. You blamed it on deployment stress and ration packs. Maybe a stomach bug. You’re stealth; you never even considered pregnancy as an option. Hell, you didn’t think it was possible.

But tonight, it hits you like a freight train.

The pain in your stomach is unbearable. Not the usual kind of cramps. Worse. You’re sweating, shaking, and can barely stand. You make it back to your bunk, grit your teeth, and ride it out alone, convinced this is just the period from hell or something tearing inside you.

Hours pass. The pain crests and breaks in waves. Your lower back screams. You’re groaning into your pillow to muffle the sounds, half-conscious and clinging to the edge of awareness. The pressure builds. You feel something shift, tear, move—and then, suddenly…

Silence.

Weight.

Heat.

You blink through tears and sweat, heart hammering, and look down.

There’s a baby on the blanket between your legs.

You freeze.

Your brain short-circuits. You didn’t even know. You didn’t know.

Your hands tremble as they reach down. It’s crying—alive. Tiny, fragile. Real. You delivered a baby without even understanding what was happening. Your chest is heaving. The pain’s still echoing in your bones, but all you can do is stare.

You’re alone.

Soap is just rooms away. The father, unknowingly.

And now the question isn’t just how this happened… It’s what the hell you’re going to do now.