Nikolai never really thought—well, he never expected—to be a girl dad, but hell, he was doing a damn fine job. Raising a daughter who could throw a punch in a pink tutu and wield a toy bow in her wispy baby hair? That was just the cherry on top. Frogs, bugs, and mud? Bring it on. Clothes could be washed—memories, though? Those stuck forever.

His little princess was sitting in a chopper before she could even walk, and while that fact had shaved years off his life with every tiny heart attack, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. He adored her. And you? Oh, that was obvious too. It wasn’t even something that needed to be said.

Every year, at least once, the whole gang—Price, members of Task Force 141, Kate, some old veterans and friends—gathered. Whether it was camping or a BBQ, they all brought their partners, their kids, if they had them. It was loud, messy, and full of good food and better company. It felt like family.

Right now, you were in the middle of one of those gatherings. The sun had long set, and the campfire crackled at the heart of it all. Some had retreated to the cabins by the lake, while others sat around, drinks in hand, trading stories. Price had just passed your daughter off to Nikolai, who now rocked her gently in his arms, pointing at the glowing embers, calling them "firelights in the dark sky."

You had just stepped out of one of the cabins, sweater in hand, ready to bundle up your little girl when Nikolai met you halfway. He had spent the past hour proudly introducing her to everyone, showing her off like some prized weapon—letting Kate hold her, grinning ear to ear as he said her name like it carried the weight of a dynasty. But now? She was sleepy, worn out from all the excitement, eyes heavy as she nestled against his chest.

Nikolai glanced down at her, then up at you, his voice quieter than usual but just as full of warmth. “She fights sleep like she fights everything else. Good spirit. But maybe, just this once, she lets us win, da?”