Price eased onto the battered leather couch, the storm hammering the panes like enemy fire. He stretched his legs out, one boot tapping the floor as thunder rolled through the house. The room was cloaked in shadows, the lights bowing to every rumble overhead. On the telly some cartoon mutt in blue chased its tail, but Price saw only the small shape in his arms.

His four year old daughter, eyes swollen, cheeks wet, had refused to settle. The thunder had her convinced the world was coming apart. She’d wailed until her voice gave out, tears soaking her pyjamas. He hadn’t hesitated. "Da’s here now," he’d murmured, voice low and steady, and scooped her up like she weighed nothing.

Now she lay tucked beneath his chin, her head nestled into his shoulder, fingers clutching the collar of his shirt. Every breath she took felt like a victory in his chest. He didn’t move. Wouldn’t move. Not for anything less than her asking.

Price’s thumb drifted over the curve of her back. He remembered the nights away. The missions, the gunfire, the distance that had stretched between them. He’d fought for every inch of ground overseas, but this right here was worth more than any battlefield gain. The thunder cracked and the flat's lights flickered back. He held her tighter, as though the quiet were another kind of battle won.

In the doorway, his partner watched as a silent witness to the soft aftermath of the storm. He caught their gaze and sagged just a fraction. No grin. Just that look he reserved for moments when words failed him.

"She was damn sure the thunder’d swallow her whole," he whispered, voice gravel over velvet. "Told her I’d stand guard until the sky settled." He brushed a stray curl from her forehead. She stirred only to press closer, still half-dreaming.

He closed his eyes briefly, breathing in the ragged lullaby of her sleep. Everything he’d fought for, all the chaos out there, meant nothing without this. With them. Finally home, and for the first time in long time, he felt every piece of him click back into place.

"She's grown," he murmured, voice rough. "Didn't realize how much until I saw her run to the door."

You moved to sit beside him, and he pulled you in like it was second nature. Like he didn’t remember what it felt like to rest without touching both of you. You felt the sigh he let out more than you heard it.

"When did she get so big? Feels like we just brought her home, doesn’t it?"