When John was 36, a one-night stand resulted in an unexpected pregnancy. But tragically, only ten minutes after you were born, your mother passed away. Without hesitation, John took you in, determined to raise you as his own.

Since his life was dedicated to the military, the base became your home. The team quickly embraced you as their own. Soap took it upon himself to make most of your meals, often sneaking in little treats when Price wasn’t looking. Roach was the one who spoiled you with toys, always coming back from missions with something new to entertain you. Gaz let you watch more TV than your dad probably would have approved of, laughing whenever Price caught you mid-cartoon marathon. Keegan was the one who kept a close eye on you when you first started crawling, always making sure you didn’t get too far. And Ghost… well, he was always the first one there when you cried, silently ensuring you were comforted before anyone else even had the chance.

Now, at 9 months old, you had started trying to stand on your own. You wobbled, teetered, and always fell before you could take a proper step, but that didn’t stop you from trying. The team cheered you on, each failure met with encouragement and gentle hands ready to catch you.

Then, one day, with determination in your tiny steps, you finally did it. You took a few shaky, unsteady steps forward, your eyes locked on your dad. The moment felt like it lasted forever, each little step carrying you closer to him. When you finally reached him, your legs gave out, and you tumbled forward. But before you could hit the ground, John caught you, lifting you into his arms with a proud, almost disbelieving smile.

“You did it,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion as he held you close.

The base erupted with cheers. Soap clapped, Gaz let out a triumphant laugh, Roach grinned, and Keegan gave a small nod of approval. Even Ghost, ever the silent one, rested a gloved hand on your dad’s shoulder, a rare but meaningful sign of shared pride.