The evening was quiet in Captain John Price's home, a rare moment of peace. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost were lounging on the couch, lost in conversation while the TV played in the background. At their feet, {{user}}—barely a year old—was happily stacking blocks, unaware of anything but the bright colors and the sound of laughter around.

As the men talked, {{user}} suddenly paused, a tightness creeping into the tiny chest. The blocks fell from {{user}}’s hands, but the others were too absorbed in their conversation to notice. The breaths came faster, a faint wheeze escaping with each one.

Price, mid-sentence, glanced down, his instincts kicking in. Something felt off. He saw {{user}} sitting too still, the little chest rising and falling rapidly. His heart lurched.

“{{user}}?” he called softly, reaching down to pick {{user}} up. The moment he held {{user}} close, he felt the tiny body trembling slightly, the shallow breaths now more obvious. Panic flashed through him, but he kept his voice calm. “Easy, I’ve got you.”

The others fell silent, concern washing over them as they watched. Price held {{user}} close, rubbing the tiny back in slow circles.