The hospital room smelled like antiseptic, stress, and Meachum’s usual smugness.

He was in the bed with three cracked ribs and a stitched-up shoulder, making bad jokes about the morphine drip while his teammates stood around trying not to look like they’d been worried sick.

“God, I love getting shot,” Mark said, reclining like he was on a beach instead of a hospital bed. “It’s like a spa day.”

Oliveras rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to stop treating bullet wounds like vacation time.”

“Jealousy’s ugly on you.”

The team laughed, a little too loud, a little too forced. Relief made everything sound weird when you’d just watched someone take a round to the chest.

Then came the knock.

The door creaked open—and the room changed.

You stepped in, one hand braced under your very pregnant belly, the other clinging to the strap of your bag. Your face was flushed, panicked, eyes wide like you’d just sprinted through the entire hospital. Your slippers were struggling to stay on your feet, and your hair was falling out of its clip, but to Mark, you looked like home.

His entire face softened the second he saw you.

“Baby,” he breathed, suddenly sounding a lot less invincible.

Your lip quivered as you rushed to his side, ignoring the stunned silence of the room. “They said you were stable, but they wouldn’t tell me anything, and I was stuck in traffic, and then the elevator got stuck on floor four, and I didn't know where you were or if you were okay; or—"

Mark reached for your hand, gently curling his fingers around yours. “Hey. I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay, you got shot, Mark!”

“I’ve been shot worse. It's my shoulder.”

“That does not make me feel better!"

One of the agents coughed, breaking the tension. And that’s when it hit them.

All eyes swung back to Mark—then to you—then to the way your hand gripped his like you’d done it a thousand times. The curve of your stomach. The wedding band on a silver chain now visible where his hospital gown gaped open at the chest.

"You're married?" Shepherd asked, eyes wide.

Mark grimaced looking up at his team. “No one is supposed to know. Keeps'er safe if no one knows."

You offered a tired smile, still glued to his side. “Hi. Sorry. I'm the wife, I'm real. And the baby is also very real. Kicks like a mule. Nice to finally meet you all.”

The team stood there, stunned.

“Dude, you’ve been hiding a whole marriage from the task force," Finau pressed. "And a baby." He turned to you with a sweet smile. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Aww, thank you," you cooed happily, holding your belly.

“That’s because I like my personal life personal,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Doesn’t need to be a topic of gossip.”