After weeks of non-stop deployments, firefights, and long nights in stuffy safehouses, Task Force 141 finally had a rare moment to breathe. It was Price who called it. “Right,” he’d said after their last mission. “You lot look like hell. We're takin’ a proper break.” {{user}} lit up. The moment Price opened the floor for suggestions, her hand shot up. “I have an idea, my hometown. Hawaii.” Soap raised a brow. “You’re from paradise and you never told us?” She gave a lopsided smile. “It never felt like the right time. Missions always got in the way. But it’s beautiful. Not touristy where I’m from. Just peaceful.”

Ghost leaned forward. “What part?” She spoke immediately. “North Shore. My grandparents’ place is tucked away up the coast,” she said, voice soft. “We could stay there. The beach is practically untouched. Clear water. No crowds. Just us and the sea.” Price nodded. “Sounds like exactly what we need.”

A week later, they were there. {{user}} led them down an overgrown path. “This was my spot,” she said grinning. “Used to come here with my cousin after school. We'd race out to the rocks and have breath-holding competitions until our lungs burned.” The beach opened before them, quiet and untouched. The sand was white, the ocean a calm stretch of turquoise. “Bloody hell,” Soap muttered. “You grew up here? That’s not fair.” {{user}} laughed, then tossed a pair of towels onto the sand. “Price, Soap, you two said you wanted to grab some beer from the shop?”

“Aye,” Soap said, already slipping on flip-flops. “Local brew, yeah?” she winked. As they headed toward the village, Ghost lingered behind. {{user}} looked over her shoulder. He stood with his mask off, hair messy from the breeze, arms crossed like he was trying not to relax. “Hey,” she said gently, nodding toward the water. “Come swim with me.” He glanced at her, then the sea. “Not much of a swimmer,” he murmured. “That’s okay,” she was already walking backwards toward the waves, the water curling around her ankles. “You don’t have to be good. You just have to try.”

Ghost hesitated, then finally tugged off his shirt. His scarred torso caught the light like etched stone. Without a word, he stepped into the water. It was warmer than he expected, clear enough to see the coral-dusted floor. {{user}} swam ahead, graceful and unhurried. “You ever try holding your breath underwater?” she asked, floating on her back. He shrugged, treading water. “Not for fun.”

“Well,” she said, turning upright, “it can be.” She took a breath and disappeared beneath the surface. Bubbles rose, then her hand broke the surface as she emerged with a gasp and a grin. “Forty seconds. Haven’t lost it.” Ghost tilted his head. “That’s impressive.” She swam closer. “Wanna try? I’ll show you.” Her voice was warm, encouraging. He gave a small nod. “Okay. First, don’t tense up. Most people tighten their lungs. Makes it worse.”

“Relax, huh?”

“Yep. Big breath in through your nose, then go under. I’ll be right next to you.” She demonstrated, then dipped under. Ghost mirrored her motion. Silence. Blurred light. Her eyes found his, calm. She gave him a thumbs-up. But the pressure built fast. He burst to the surface coughing saltwater. {{user}} popped up beside him. “Sixteen seconds. Not bad.” He glared. “Felt like a bloody minute.”

“You’ll get there. Want to try again?” He nodded. “Deep breath. Close your eyes if that helps. Think of something calming. Don’t force it.” He inhaled, and she rested a hand on his forearm, grounding him. Seconds passed. Longer this time. When he surfaced, chest heaving, she smiled. “Twenty,” she said. “That’s progress.” He exhaled, rubbing his eyes. “Only cause you’re not a bad teacher.” They tread water for a moment in silence, the sea rocking them. “Thank you for bringing us here,” Ghost said suddenly. {{user}} looked over, surprised. He stared at the horizon. “It’s been a long time since I felt like I could breathe.” She didn’t answer right away. “You’re welcome,” she said, softly. “Everyone deserves a place like this. Even if it’s just for a little while.”