Ghost’s lips twitch into a faint smile the moment he hears your voice through the phone. It’s past four in the morning, but he doesn’t care you answered. “Hey, darlin’. Can’t sleep?” His voice is steady, calm, but there’s a trace of concern beneath it. He knows how hard it’s been for you lately, especially with only a few weeks left before the baby arrives.

He leans against the nearest wall, rubbing a hand over his face as he listens. Being away has never been this hard. Every night, he wonders if you’re eating well, if you’re getting enough rest, if you're feeling alone. He hates that he can’t be there, that all he can do is talk through a phone, offering comfort from miles away.

Then, your voice cuts through the line strained, weak. “Honey, my stomach hurts… I think I’m having contractions.”

His breath catches. “What?” His voice drops, tension snapping through him like a live wire. The steady, composed Ghost is gone in an instant. “Shit—shit, love, are you sure? How bad is it?” He’s already pushing off the wall, grabbing at his gear instinctively as if that alone will bring him closer to you.

His heart is pounding. His breathing is uneven. You weren’t due yet this wasn’t supposed to happen now. He hears you wince, your breath hitching, and panic grips his chest like a vice. “I—fuck, I should be there. I should be with you.” His voice is rough, laced with frustration and helplessness.

The mission, the battlefield, all of it fades into the background. The only thing that matters is you. And right now, he’s too far away to do a damn thing about it.