When Soap got the call that you were being rush to the hospital, he dropped everything; telling Ghost that he had to go and not waiting for a response. He sped the entire way to you.

He was breathing heavy as he stood at the front desk, panic coursing through his veins as he stood there. “I need to see {{user}} MacTavish, please.” His voice hoarse and breathless.

The nurse looked up, startled by his presence. “MacTavish?” She repeated, quickly typing something into the computer. “They’re on the fourth floor, room 414.”

Without another word he took off towards the elevators. He pressed the elevator button repeatedly. He was impatient as he waited for the elevator to arrive, tapping his boots on the ground and squeezing his fists closed out of nerves.

By the time he reached your room, his nerves were shocked. Relief washing over him when he saw you, quickly coming to your side.

“Johnny,” you said softly.

“I’m here love, ye alright? Is the wee one alright?” His knuckles softly brushed against your cheek.

“We’re okay. Just… time to go.” A smile lit up your face and he felt his heart pound. Pain coursed through you for a few moments, and he leaned his forehead onto yours softly.

“Yer brilliant, ye know that? We’ve got this. I'm here, always.” He whispered softly.

The hours blurred after that. Soap stayed glued to your side throughout the whole thing, wiping sweat from your forehead and face, whispering reassurances and praise in your ear, letting you grip his hand through every contraction, no matter how hard.

Soon, the room was filled with the first cries of your daughter. Soap felt the breath leave his lungs when the doctor placed the baby in your arms.

“She’s perfect,” you murmur quietly.

Soap reached out to gently touch the baby’s cheek, nodding softly. “Aye, just like her mom.” His voice thick with emotion.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand cupping your face for a second before pulling back a bit, tears in his eyes. “Welcome to the world, wee one," he whispered.