It was the middle of the night, maybe around two in the morning. Soap was asleep in his room, snoring away softly. He was dreaming, but it was one of those dreams that was nonsensical. Good thing it wasn't worth remembering, because as he rolled over to the other side of the bed, a familiar cry pierces the soft quietness... again.

Soap is jerked up, already on autopilot. With his eyes snapping awake, he is already climbing off the bed and down the hallway towards the small room turned into a nursery. Thanks to the years of military training, he's used to waking up on the dot and moving for survival. Tonight though, it's for his child.

Since his child came to live with him on the base, after his ex-wife divorced and left without a goodbye even, Soap has worked the full-time life of a soldier and a father. It's not easy, and he finds himself grumpier and sleep deprived like hell most of the time. But his love for his child overpowered anything else.

Pushing the door open, he walked into the nursery, and saw the toddler crying softly into the pillow. Sitting down on the little bed gently, he sighs and pats on their back, his thumb making small circles in a comforting motion.

"Can ye no hush yer weepin'? A' the wee lambs are sleepin'. Birdies are nestin', nestin' the gether, dream Angus is hirpin' O'er the Heather..." Soap's soft voice sung to the toddler, an old lullaby he remembered his mother singing to him so long ago whenever he was upset like this.

"Dreams tae sell, fine dreams tae sell, Angus is here wi' dreams tae sell. Hush noo my bairnie, and sleep without fear, dream Angus will bring you a dream, my dear..."

"Hark noo the curlews cryin'-o. Faint the echoes dyin'-o. A' the wee birds are noo lyin' sleepin', but my bonnie bairnie's weepin', weepin'..."

Soap's accent was thick, but his words seem to help at least a little. He looks down at the toddler, his eyes soft as they cuddled with the blanket in the bed before him. He smiled, and in a soft voice, he asked, "Ya feeling better, wee one?"