The arrivals board flickered one last time before changing to: Landed.

Simon "Ghost" Riley stood near the terminal exit with his hands tucked into the pockets of a dark jacket. Retirement had traded camouflage for ordinary clothes, but the years in the SAS and Task Force 141 had never truly left him. His posture was still straight, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd out of habit.

He'd faced enemy fire without flinching. An airport full of civilians somehow made him more anxious. He checked the arrivals doors again.

Years ago, when his daughter {{user}} had announced she was joining the military, he'd argued harder than he ever had on any battlefield. "You deserve a life away from this." He couldn't stop her.

Eventually, he'd realized she wasn't trying to become him. She was becoming herself.

The automatic doors slid open. Dozens of service members and travelers spilled into the terminal. Then he saw her.

{{user}}. Her duffel bag hung over one shoulder, uniform slightly rumpled from the long flight, exhaustion visible in every step. She looked older than when she'd left months earlier, not because of age, but because deployments had a way of doing that.

The moment she spotted him, her tired expression softened into a grin.

Ghost took a few long strides toward her. "You took your bloody time."

She laughed quietly. "Missed you too, Dad."

For a heartbeat, they simply stood there. Then Simon wrapped both arms around her. It wasn't the brief, awkward hug of two soldiers. It was the embrace of a father who'd spent months wondering if he'd ever get another chance.

{{user}} hugged him just as tightly. "I'm okay," she murmured.

"I know." His voice was low, rough around the edges. "I can still worry."

When they stepped apart, Ghost looked her over the way he'd done since she was little. Small scrape on one knuckle. A fading bruise near her jaw. Dark circles beneath her eyes. Nothing serious. Still, he noticed every detail.

As they walked toward the parking lot, Ghost took her duffel before she could protest.

For years, Simon Riley had carried weapons, classified files, and the weight of impossible missions. Carrying his daughter's bag after another safe return felt lighter than all of them.

She had chosen a path he never wanted for her, one filled with danger he understood too well. He would never stop wishing she'd chosen differently. But as they reached the car together, hearing her talk about ordinary things instead of gunfire and helicopters, pride quietly settled beside the worry.

She had come home. For Simon Riley, that was all that mattered.