Reliant ~ [John Soap MacTavish]

Epilogue: Birthday

John 'Soap' MacTavish ~ 23.05

The dayroom's usual hum is quieter tonight. A couple of the others linger at the far end, murmuring low enough that I can barely hear them. Keegan sits across from me, nursing a glass of whisky like he's trying to savor the silence. I'm stretched out on the couch, flipping a coin between my fingers to keep my hands busy. It's one of those rare evenings where we're not running off somewhere, prepping for the next disaster.

Keegan leans back in his chair, breaking the stillness when he suddenly sits up a little straighter. "You know what tomorrow is?"

I catch the coin mid-air, raising an eyebrow. "Tomorrow? A Thursday, I reckon. Why?"

He snorts, shaking his head. "Not just Thursday. It's Alex's birthday."

The coin slips from my fingers, landing with a dull clink on the floor. "Her what?" I straighten up, the words coming out louder than I meant.

Keegan lifts his glass, taking a sip like he hasn't just dropped a bomb on me. "Her birthday," he says again, slower this time, like he's trying to make sure it sinks in.

"Since when?" I demand, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Since... always?" He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "But don't expect her to bring it up. She probably doesn't even remember it's tomorrow herself."

"What d'you mean she doesn't remember?" I ask, frowning.

My Alex, not remembering something as basic as her own birthday?

Keegan sighs, swirling his drink like he's gathering his thoughts. "Growing up, we weren't allowed birthdays. Said they were pointless distractions. No parties, no cake, not even a mention. She stopped keeping track after a while. Can't say I blame her."

His words settle heavy in the room, and for a moment, I don't know what to say. "That's... wrong," I mutter, the words falling out before I can stop them.

Keegan raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Tell me something I don't know."

I shake my head, running a hand through my hair. "So, what? We're just supposed to let it pass like every other day?"

Keegan shrugs. "She doesn't expect anything. Probably doesn't even want it."

"Doesn't matter what she expects," I snap, standing up. "She deserves better than that."

"Agreed," Keegan watches me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he leans back in his chair. "Alright. What're you thinking?"

I pace to the window, the coin still clutched in my hand. The glass feels cool under my palm as I press it against the frame, staring out at the darkened base. "We've got to do something. She should know we're thinking of her."

Keegan's silent for a beat, and when I glance over my shoulder, he's got this small, almost approving smile. "What's your plan, then?"

I smile, the start of an idea already forming. "First, we raid the kitchen. Get whatever passes for cake or dessert around here. Then we'll rope the others in, set up something quick—nothing flashy, just... nice."

Keegan chuckles, shaking his head. "You sure about this? You know she's not the most sentimental type."

"I know," I admit, stepping away from the window. "But that doesn't mean she won't appreciate it. And if she doesn't, well..." I shrug, tossing the coin back into the air. "At least I'll know we tried. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if we didn't."