Silence stretched as Zaeed stared at the small child. They were so... so small. It was the only word he could really think. He couldn’t recall ever seeing a human so small. And yet, some part of him knew. Something about them, something told him -- they were his.

He almost felt sick, though his face was blank as he just... stared. A child. A child? He was... a father? Shit. That... was not good. He was not going to be a good father. No, the kid was better off without him anyways. He didn’t know anything. What could he teach them that they would need? How to hold a gun? How to burn your enemies? No child needed to know that. Maybe later in life, but this -- this small, small child, this child... they didn’t need him. He would only do them harm.

His boots were stuck to the spot, and he was sure he was paler now than usual. What else could he do but stare? A father. He came from a long line of shitty fathers. He wasn’t going to be any better.