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Captain Price notices it first.
Iz does laundry on Thursdays and he finds her shoving some jeans into the washer. Surprisingly, the part where he and Simon were both fucking her at the same time months ago has never made things awkward between them, but seeing him is still a case of knowing what his cock looks like under different circumstances.
“Captain,” she begins, “you got laundry? Or something else?”
He doesn’t look amused. Iz frowns.
“Lieutenant Kaur,” oh, they’re starting in with the ranks, this isn't good, “one of my duties is to check logistics for the base, goods in, goods out, expenses, etc. One of the things I make sure to order is feminine hygiene products when the ones stocked in your bathroom get low.”
“And I appreciate that, sir,” she says.
Price holds up a hand. “You haven’t needed restocking in almost three months.”
Iz pauses. “Yes sir. I haven’t run out. You got me more than enough.”
“Right, right.” Price looks like he wants to be anywhere other than here, asking her if she’s got enough tampons. “What I mean is, you haven’t touched them at all.”
What?” Her brow furrows. “Sir?”
Price’s eyes meet hers. “As in, every time I’ve gone to check your supplies, nothing’s changed. I know how much I bought you. None of it’s been used.”
She thinks to herself for a bit. “Well, I think maybe because of mission stress, sir, I haven’t had a period. Haven’t needed to use any.”
“And what form of protection are you and Riley using?” he asks. He doesn’t look too pleased to ask that one either.
“Um.” Iz pauses. “The pill…?”
It’s Price’s turn to frown. “Lieutenant, you’re 33 years old. You’re a capable soldier. You also, I believe, know a lot fucking more about your own body than I do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make mistakes.” He’s close enough to lean in and tower over her, just a little. “Let me make it clear. You’re not authorised for any more 141 missions until I see a negative pregnancy test. Got it?”
She swallows. “This is ridiculous, sir. I’m not pregnant.”
Price steps back, arms folded over his chest. “You can get one done on-site, or you can hop into your car, go down the road, and toddle around Boots until you find one you like. Then come back and pee on it and prove it.”
Iz throws her jeans into the washer, turns it on, and then whirls around, storming out.
Iz went to Boots and got one of those fancy ones that tells her how far along she is so she can wave the pee-covered device in Price’s face and confirm he’s talking bollocks when she shows him the negative result.
She gets a returning positive instead, one which tells her she’s almost four months along.
Well, at least that definitely means it’s not Price’s.
She sits on the toilet for a good half an hour, looking at the two little lines like they’ll vanish if she stares hard enough. This is… Iz can’t know for sure. It’s not bad. But it’s not good, either. Truth be told, she’s… she’s never talked about this. Not really. Not just with Simon. Just in general. She’s got good parents and a good family. She doesn’t think she’d be a bad mum.
She doesn't think Simon Riley would be a terrible dad either.
But even as she washes the test clean and tucks it into her back pocket, she doesn't know what to do next. The easiest thing to do would be to book an appointment to get the pregnancy terminated. It's her body. Her risk. She's still under the 27 week deadline.
But she thinks about showing this to Simon, and she knows she can't keep this a secret from him. At the very least, he deserves to know she's ending it if she makes that choice.
Iz doesn't run into him on the way to Price's office, which is good, because she can't imagine having this conversation with her boyfriend before she knows what her options are with 141. She doubts Price will kick her out that easily. That's not the kind of man he is. So she doesn't knock on his door in the fear that this is the last time she ever graces the 141 base.
Price opens it and the look on her face is apparently enough.
"Shit," he mutters. "Come on in, then."
Iz closes the door behind her and pulls the test from her pocket, showing it to him. "You'll be glad to know there's no risk that it's yours, sir," she tells him first.
"But there's no doubt it's Riley's," Price guesses.
Iz nods, pressing her lips together. "Yes sir. Sorry, sir."
The captain pinches the bridge of his nose, then takes a seat at his desk and gestures for her to sit too. "Right then. Goes without saying, Kaur, that I can't have you on active duty."
Her stomach sinks. She expected as much. "Yeah, I thought so."
Price looks up at her. "That doesn't mean that effective immediately you're no longer part of Task Force 141. Far from it. Whatever you decide to do, Iz, you're part of the team. We have your back. Keep it, don't keep it. It's your choice. I won't lie and say we don't need your skills in the field. But your decision isn't up to me. You've already got enough pressure on what to do, I won't add to it. Remember that."
She clasps her hands in her lap. "Thank you." Her eyes sting a little. "...I just don't know what happens next."
Price sniffs. "Have you told Simon?" he asks after a second.
She shakes her head. "Couldn't do that without making sure you're kept updated, sir."
He looks at her. “Then you know where to go next. Don’t come back and talk about this again until you know for sure, all right?”
Iz slips the test back into her pocket. “Yes sir.”
“He’s not a bastard,” Price adds after a moment, as she moves to stand. “But you knew that. Just… think about it.” He looks like he wants to say more, but this is Captain Price, he probably never thought he’d be dealing with this.
“Understood, Captain,” she replies, and leaves the room.
Now what?
Now we go talk to Simon. Like it’ll be easy, like she can just say hi love, guess what, we made a baby, what the fuck do we do now?
Iz ends up heading to his- their- quarters, clutching the test in her hand and hoping she doesn’t run into him outside again. She doesn’t see anyone, which is good, and she pushes open the door to hear him in the bathroom. The electric shaver buzzing hides the sound of her coming in. She waits until he’s done to come any closer, and he’s leaving the bathroom just as she steps forward.
It’s like he knows something is wrong. His brow furrows, face bare without either the mask or any grease paint. “Iz?”
She doesn’t even know how to begin. She settles for taking a deep breath and coming over, reaching for his huge hand. He lets her take it. She pushes the test into his palm and lets him withdraw, crossing her arms over her chest. She feels like a child about to be scolded by her dad for misbehaving.
Simon lets out a heavy breath when he opens his palm. “Right.” He falls silent.
Iz waits for him to say something else. “Do… what do you want to do?”
His jaw clenches. “This isn’t a good idea, Iz.”
Her stomach suddenly hurts. “Right, yeah. I knew that, we’re on missions a lot and we never talked about it so it’s not like we ever made a decision,” she agrees. “Just- thought you might want to know.”
He nods shortly. “Yeah. Wish you’d told me a bit earlier.”
“Wasn’t me who noticed,” she says. “Price realised.”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“Apparently he checks my feminine hygiene products to see if I’m low,” Iz tells him.
“And what did Price say when he told you?” Simon asks.
“To talk to you and not come back to him until I’ve- we’ve- made a decision,” she replies. “Why?”
His lips twitch. “Just… next time this happens, don’t- worry about it. Go ahead and- do what you like, ok?”
The ache in her stomach moves to her chest. “Anyone would think you’re not a family man, Riley,” she tries to drawl. It comes out weak.
He looks away. “You don’t want a baby with me, Kaur.”
Ow. “Right.” She nods. “Not like that’s my decision, is it?”
Their eyes meet again. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well then, enlighten me,” she snaps.
“We’re soldiers, we’re not parents,” he says. “You tell me you think we’d be good at any of that and I’d laugh.”
Her eyes sting. “Well I don’t know, do I?” she manages not to sob. “I never thought about it before it suddenly happened today.”
She knows he’s missing his balaclava as he looks away again. “I know.”
Something about this wants to make her stamp her feet and scream. “Right. Well. Solves that question, doesn’t it? I’ll go do something about it then.”
He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. Iz turns away and leaves the room, and she’s halfway to Price’s before she realises she left the test in the bedroom, but she supposes it doesn’t matter.
She knocks on the door to his office. Price opens it.
“That was quick,” he says, and then he actually looks her over and his face falls. “Kaur?”
She takes a deep breath. “Don’t worry about this happening again, sir. Riley’s made it clear he’s got no interest in starting a family.” Trying to keep her face straight fails. Her voice cracks on Riley.
Price is pulling her into his office before the tears start falling.
Iz sits on a chair opposite his desk again, wiping her face with a tissue as Price takes a seat behind the desk, leaning onto it with his hands clasped.
“You all right?” he asks softly, even though he knows the answer.
“Will be,” Iz mumbles. “Pregnancy hormones must be working overtime.”
He’s watching her when she looks up. “What did he say?”
“That I don’t want a baby with him,” she mutters. “You know what, think I’m inclined to agree with him now.”
Price leans back with a sigh, scratching his beard. “Fuck.”
“Look, it’ll be fine,” she starts, “we can work together as professionals after this, I promise.”
Price fixes her with a stare. “Do you?”
Iz frowns. “Of course I can work with him.”
He shakes his head. “Want a bloody baby, Kaur. With him.”
Iz falls silent. She clasps her hands in her lap. “Does it matter?”
“Do you know much about him?” Price asks. “Where he came from?”
“Manchester?” Her brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”
Price nods, chair swinging a little so he looks away for a second. “Not my story to tell.” He glances back at her, then sighs. “Right. Don’t make a habit of intervening in love lives, so don’t make me do it unless you really want me to, understand?”
What? “Under- understood, sir?” Iz blinks. “What- are you going to do?”
He spins around to face her again, one arm slung over the desk. “If Simon Riley changes his bastard mind about a baby, Kaur, would you want him to?”
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she sobs. “Why are you asking?”
“I’m asking because if you say yes to that question, I’m going to march out that door and see if I can keep this team together,” Price replies. “If you genuinely want it. If you’re indifferent about it, I’ll sign you out to go off-base and deal with it.”
John Price is offering to mediate her relationship and Izna Kaur is torn between laughter, tears and disbelief. Does she want a baby with Simon Riley? Because the thought of never having one with him is combining with his sheer disillusion to the concept of parenthood to make it abundantly clear that she might. And she might is definitely not a she does not. It may even turn into a she would.
She won’t keep Price waiting.
“Yes.” She squeezes her linked fingers. “I do.” Iz pauses. “But, what are you going to say?”
Price is already getting up from his desk and heading towards the door. “Sit tight right there, Lieutenant, and wait for me to come back.”
“Is that an order, sir?” she asks.
“Yes,” he replies. “Sit. Wait. I’ll be back.”
The door swings shut before Iz has a chance to ask more questions. No, she’s never really thought of Price as being an emotionally involved man. Or the type of man to involve himself in the relationships of others. But apparently, this time he’s willing to be both to mediate for her and Riley.
She breaks down with an abrupt sob, tears spilling down her cheeks. Is it pregnancy hormones? Is it something else? She’s not an idiot, she’s 33 years old, she knows that she feels something for Simon Riley and it’s been long enough of them dating that she thinks she can say it aloud, but Izna is so scared that it’s not reciprocal. That this has broken them.
She waits for ten, twenty minutes. It’s almost to thirty by the time Price comes back in, his face impassive as their eyes meet.
“Right.” His voice is low. “Softened the target up a bit for you, Kaur. He’s in the mess. Go see what you can do.”
Iz wipes under her eyes and nods. “Thank you, sir.”
“I meant what I said,” he adds as she stands up. “Choice is yours.”
She nods again, heading for the door. “Understood.”
Maybe Price told the others to stay inside, but Iz doesn’t see them on her way to mess. It’s dark in there, with just one row of lights on, illuminating the man sat at the back of the room with his hands clasped in front of him. Iz presses her lips together and goes over, taking a seat opposite. She tucks one leg over the other, leaning back and away from him. Waiting.
The silence stretches out for almost a minute before Riley sits up.
“It’s not you,” he says.
Iz feels the laugh tumble out of her. “It’s not you, it’s me. That’s how we start this?”
His jaw clenches. “Would you say you had a happy childhood, Kaur?”
She shrugs, arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah. Guess so. Why?”
Their eyes meet. “Because mine was shit,” he replies. “My dad was a monster. Price is the best example of a dad I’ve ever had. 141 and the army’s been my family since I was old enough to enlist.”
Iz is quiet. She never knew that about him. No wonder Price had said it wasn’t his story to tell. Simon’s met some monsters in his time, and if he describes his own father that way, well, that’s all she needs to know.
“And you think that because I had a happy upbringing and a good family, I don’t need to have a baby with someone who grew up like that,” she guessed.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” he tells her.
She swallows down the harsh words she wants to say. He’s right, it’s not her, it is him. “I don’t really, not really,” she admits. “Got some vague basics. Make sure they’re fed and kept clean. Don’t hurt them. Teach them. But it’d be new to me too. Not just you.”
“You really think I’d be a good father, Kaur?” Riley asks.
“Why?” she counters. “Are you going to do to them what your dad did to you, whatever he did to you?”
His brows furrow. “Course not.”
“Look, Simon.” She leans forward. “Thousands of kids who came from shitty dads go on and have great families. I’ve met plenty of them myself. It’s ok if you don’t actually want this. Not everyone does.”
He’s staring at her, eyes fixed deep into hers. “Never said I didn’t want it.”
Iz feels her chest tighten. “Neither did I.”
His shoulders slump. “Right.”
Iz finally uncrosses her arms and legs, leaning onto the table. “You scared, Riley?”
There’s no hesitation in his reply. “Terrified.”
She blinks, just a little. “Me too.”
Simon stares at her for a moment, and then a heavy sigh escapes him. “But not because it’s with me.”
Iz stares down at his hand, and then places hers down on the table, palm up, inviting. “No.”
His fingertips brush across the place where the darker skin on the top of her hand becomes the lighter skin of her palm. “You’ve got shit taste in men, Iz.”
She watches him again. “You taste fine to me.”
Simon chuckles softly. “You really want this,” he states.
“Yep.” Iz doesn’t take her eyes off him.
There’s a moment. “Why?”
It’s her turn not to hesitate. “Because I love you.”
His hand stills on hers. “Jesus.”
She freezes. “Is- that ok-”
Simon Riley grabs her hand and rounds the table. She’s barely on her feet before he picks her up and hauls her into his arms. Iz doesn’t have a moment to breathe. His lips find hers, rough and hungry. It soothes the ache that she’s been feeling. She clutches onto him, arms around his neck, needs to be close to him because oh my god, she loves him.
“I love you too,” is growled into her mouth before she can overthink the kissing as being a distraction. Simon sets her on the table, cupping her face in his hands, making her look at him. “Loved you a long fucking time, Iz.”
She brushes her fingers along the back of his neck. “Tell me if you want to keep it.”
Another rough kiss muffles her for a moment. “I want to keep it. Want to keep you, too.”
“I’m yours,” she whispers.
Simon picks her up again, carries her bridal-style out of the room towards their quarters. Price passes them, gives them a nod and says nothing. Not that Iz would’ve really cared about that or stuck around to hear it, because Simon Riley is with her.
Iz knows her parents. Her mother had always been a fantastic lawyer. Her father has been running his shop since he turned 40, when her grandparents handed it over to him. But they have always wanted grandchildren, just like so many others of their generation.
On the other hand, she also knows they’ve secretly wanted her to get married too, they’ve just never said it. So maybe they’d be disappointed in her for this, maybe they’ll suddenly change, maybe-
Iz puts the positive pregnancy test on the coffee table between her and her mum and dad. There’s a beat of silence as she waits, staring down at the floor.
“Mashallah,” her mum whispers, and launches herself onto Iz to wrap her arms around her.
Her dad slides his glasses off and wipes his eyes and Iz feels her own sting with tears. She left Simon behind today on purpose because if they were angry they would vent it at him. She knew they knew what her and Simon were up to and why she hadn't come out to see them at first after Dipa's wedding. But now they knew for sure and they were happy.
“Is it that English boy with the mask?” her mother asks when they finally let her go.
“Yeah.” Iz is still kind of scared they’ll suddenly change, stop being kind. “Yeah, it’s Simon.”
Mum's hand is gentle on her stomach. “Is the English boy going to ask you to marry him?”
"I don't know," she's embarrassed to say it, "um, maybe?"
"Is he going to be a good father?" her dad asks. "Does he need a good kicking to get his masked face in the game?"
She laughs. "No, no kicking. He's going to be involved."
"He'd better," her mum snorts. "Don't think I'll keep away from him just because of that scary mask and some stupid broad shoulders."
The thought of her mother, who is barely five feet tall and pushing her mid sixties, getting into a fight with Simon Riley makes Iz laugh again, and she moves over to sit with them, to hug them both tightly and let them touch the little swell of her belly where her baby is growing.
"If he's the size of your husband, he's going to be a heavy baby," her mother sighs. "You'll be like carrying a melon under your clothes, my poor little girl."
"Think the shushak for this one will need to be a bit bigger," her dad whispers over her head.
Her mum snorts. "Better weigh them first."
"I'll be fine!" Iz cries. "God! You're both so mean to me!"
"Oh," her mum is cooing in her ear, holding her close, "I'm sorry, chanda."
"I won't be the size of a moon," Iz whines.
Her dad pats her hand. "We better pray not."
Jai Kaur-Riley is born on a perfect May Day and weighs 8lbs. He has a full head of thick hair, dark as his mother's, and when he opens his eyes, Ghost's dark irises look up at his parents.
He's immediately spoiled and fussed by his grandparents. They carry out their separate traditions one at a time, and when Izna needs to rest they immediately take off.
She spends a day in the hospital, and when she gets home with Simon, their house is spotless. There is food piled high in the fridge. Everything she could possibly need is provided for. They spend the next 40 days resting and making their way through the mountains of meals her parents have left for them and the ones that her family also brings on other days. She is exhausted despite this, and so is Simon.
So a few days after that, when Jai has just woken up, she's surprised that her exhausted lover is halfway through breakfast when he picks up their son and cradles him in his arms, toast in his other hand.
Izna watches, sipping from her tea, watching Ghost's eyes affix to the little face. Jai makes a few little noises, mumbles and burbles.
"Damn right," he says out of nowhere.
Her brow furrows. "What?"
The toast is gestured towards their baby. "Got strong opinions on politics."
She blinks. "And you know that how?"
Jai makes a few more noises.
"Damn right," Simon says again. "Got to vote in your local elections. It's vital to our political landscape."
Izna snorts out a laugh. "All right, Jai. Which politician are you voting for?"
Her son looks at her, big dark eyes and wide, curious expression. He grunts out a few more little noises, then looks back at Simon.
His father tuts. "Nope, Green Party hasn't got a strong backing, mate. Pick someone more likely to win."
"No politics at the table!" Izna insists. "Don't care how quickly you want to be exercising your right to vote, young man, in this house, meals are politics free."
“You heard your mother,” Simon mutters.
Jai blows a raspberry in protest.
“The current ongoing energy crisis is a bi-partisan issue, beti,” Izna tells him firmly, “and that’s the end of that conversation, all right, young man?”
Simon’s eyes on her are crinkled, the darkness in them filled with a warmth that Izna will never get over.
The whole of 141 is at her door.
“Right then,” Price says, “let’s see your little lad, Kaur.”
They file in after their Captain, Gaz then Soap, the younger men shooting her grins. Iz rolls her eyes and closes the door behind them. They seem to fill up her living room, bulky shoulders and wide stances quickly taking up the space.
“Oi, Ghost,” Soap calls, “where’s the wee man?”
The Lieutenant comes down the stairs, baby in his arms. Jai is so small he’s dwarfed by the size of his dad’s bicep, and consequently he’s completely hidden until Simon turns him around to reveal his son’s chubby face and dark eyes.
“Jesus,” Soap whistles, “how the hell did an ugly fucker like you make a baby as sweet as that, sir?”
“I’ll ask your girlfriend once you finally snag someone who’ll put up with your shit,” Simon argues back. “Wash your hands and you can hold him.”
“Come on, sir,” Gaz says, “you don’t actually mean-”
“I’ve seen how quick Soap runs out of the bloody loos, Garrick,” Simon retorts. “There’s some nice soap in the downstairs, off you pop.”
One by one the others go off and do as they’re told. Price comes back first, and the little boy is handed over to him, the man’s hold on the child a little stiff at first.
“He pitching in?” Price asks her as he adjusts the baby in his arms.
“Who, Riley?” Izna smiles. “Yeah. He’s pretty involved. You should’ve seen him in IKEA. Think he wants to teach him about politics, though. Keeps bringing up local elections.”
“My son won’t be a Tory,” Riley calls from the kitchen, where the kettle is boiling.
“Even Soap couldn’t fuck that up,” Price calls back.
Jai wiggles in his arms, big eyes confused as they find Price’s face. They zero in on his moustache, and a tiny hand reaches up.
“Oh, don’t, sir,” Iz chides as Price leans down. “He’ll only cry when you have to leave.”
Still, Price lets the baby run his tiny fingers over the bristles lining his upper lip. Jai’s confusion deepens, and he withdraws his hand to suck on his fingers as he ponders what new sensation he’s just felt.
It’s very sweet, the sight of John Price holding a baby that isn’t even the length of his chest. It’s interrupted by the return of Soap MacTavish, who re-enters the room with a grin.
“Ye’d better give him up, sir, before the little man really sees your face and cries,” he teases.
“Take a seat and have a tea, MacTavish, there’s a good boy,” Price tells him in a bored voice. He continues to gaze down at Jai, contemplation in his expression.
“What’s on your mind, sir?” Gaz asks as he sits on the single sofa near the kitchen.
“Think we need to have the lads round to do some security checks on your house,” Price tells Iz. “Bulletproof glass, for starters.”
“Sir,” Iz mumbles weakly, “don’t panic me, please and thanks.”
“My turn,” Soap insists as he bounces up from his seat. Jai is scooped from Price’s arms and curled into MacTavish’s, and the young Sergeant is quick to ruffle the baby’s hair.
“Right, I’ll just be over here then, will I?” Price snorts, taking a seat near Gaz.
“Hi there, wee man,” Soap coos, “I’m your Uncle Soap. I’m gonnae teach you about the time your old man and me were stuck in Mexico with a bunch of corrupt PMCs chasing us down and he wouldn’t stop telling me these bloody awful jokes over the radio.”
“Don’t cuss in front of my son!” Iz gasps.
“It’s just bloody, Kaur,” Soap protests, “you’re a Brit, you say it every five words.”
Iz steps forward. “I’m taking my son back.”
“No,” Soap backs up, “I’ve barely held the lad. Lemme hold him longer.”
Simon steps into the room with five cups of tea and a bottle, ignoring Soap.
“MacTavish, I’ll throw you out on your arse,” he warns.
“Yessir,” Soap bobs his head, “respecting the missus, sir.” He tickles Jai’s little cheek. “Don’t worry, lad. I can win him over. I know what he likes to drink.”
“There’s a joke to be made there,” Gaz mutters. “You be careful, Soap. He might not like you making fun of his daddy and let rip.”
The smile on Soap’s face falters. “Don’t go spoiling my fun,” he mutters. “You like me, don’t ye, wee man? You like your Uncle Soap.”
“Pushing it a bit hard,” Gaz teases. “They can tell you’re desperate, you know. Babies are weird like that.”
“You’re just skippin’ the queue, Garrick,” Soap shoots back. “Wait your turn.”
“Right, like you had the patience,” comes the snort in retort. Gaz jumps up from his chair, and a moment later is looming over Soap. “Stop stealing Kaur’s baby.”
“He’s our new mascot,” Soap reluctantly allows Gaz to take Jai, “we should get him a wee bandana with a skull on it.” He looks to Ghost. “What d’ye think, sir?”
“I think you three should babysit,” is all Simon says, “you’ve got more energy than me.”
As Izna watches her brothers in arms hold her baby, she leans back in her seat next to Simon, taking a sip of her tea. Her head finds his shoulder. His hand wraps around her waist. They sit like that in the peace and comfort, the world finally slowing down for once.