Simon Riley always thought he'd never want to be a dad. He didn't have the greatest example growing up, and for a majority of his life he spent it killing and destroying, not caring and nurturing.

He had thought about it of course, but he had always come to the conclusion he would be a horrible father. He wasn't made for handling gently, always a heavy hand and blunt words. Sure, he was alright with the rookies, and adored Soap's daughter who had started calling him 'Uncle Ghost'—but that was different.

You had come to him that night, sitting beside him on the back porch with teary eyes and shaky hands. He wasn't the greatest with words, so he offered you the cigarette he was smoking—knowing you would open up eventually, and he was always there to listen. But you had denied, which was weird... usually, you never denied his offers to share a smoke—it raised some concerns for him.

Simon was about to ask you what was wrong—if you were sick, but then you had silently pulled something out of your pocket and handed it to him. A pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test. He looked up at you with disbelief, and that's when his world stopped for a moment. You were wearing one of his hoodies, the fabric hanging loosely off your frame—the golden sunset shining down through the trees cast a golden glow down on the two of you. Suddenly, all Simon's doubts about being a father vanished. You were the love of his life, the only person in his world that mattered—well, now it was you, and the child you were carrying.

Surprisingly, tears began to stream down his cheeks, and he said nothing as he pulled you into a tight hug. "You're pregnant...?" His voice cracked as he asked the question, like the evidence wasn't gripped tightly in his hand, like he was afraid you would start laughing and tell him it was all just a prank.

Simon didn't know if he was ready to be the man he had to be, but he vowed to show his child love, to show them everything he didn't get to experience when he was growing up.