Simon Riley had faced battlefields that swallowed entire platoons whole. He’d fought his way out of ambushes, crawled through smoke and fire, and stared down the barrel of death more times than he could count. But nothing unnerved him like an airport with a three year old. “Stay close to Mummy,” he muttered for the tenth time, his large hand hovering near Averie’s shoulder. Her curls bounced with every step, eyes wide as she took in the glittering shops and the stream of travelers pulling rolling suitcases. “Plane, Daddy! Plane!” she squealed, pointing at the nearest window where aircraft tails rose like mountains in the distance. “Aye, we’ll get to the plane,” Simon said, voice low but tight. He adjusted the strap of the backpack on his shoulder and scanned the crowd again. Too many people. Too many doors. Too many ways for his daughter to slip out of reach in half a second. Beside him, {{user}} walked with her usual quiet confidence, one hand on her carry on, the other reaching occasionally to steady Averie when she strayed too far. She was as calm as a summer breeze, strolling a few steps ahead.

“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor, Si,” she teased softly, glancing at him as he caught up to her. “You’ve checked the crowd six times in the last minute.” “I’ll check it a seventh,” Simon grumbled. His hand instinctively brushed against hers, reassuring himself that she was still right there.

They had promised, after Averie was born, that they wouldn’t go back into the field. No more missions where one of them might not return. Still, they couldn’t walk away from 141 completely, not when both of them had built their lives there. So now they worked on the quieter side of war. Simon handling logistics and supply chains, ensuring the Task Force always had what it needed. {{user}} buried in signals intelligence, finding threats in fragments of data no one else could untangle. It was during one of those late nights in the ops room, maps spread across the table and {{user}}’s fingers flying across a keyboard, that Simon had finally realised he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Months later, he’d asked her to marry him, not in some dramatic sweep, but on the same bench where they’d had their first date. A quiet hill overlooking the base. He’d slipped the ring from his pocket, voice gruff but low. “{{user}}…will you marry me?” She’d laughed at his awkwardness, kissed him before he could say another word, and said yes without hesitation.

Now, on their first proper holiday together, Simon was discovering that airports were a different kind of battlefield. Averie wriggled out of his reach again, darting three steps ahead toward a duty free display of stuffed animals. Simon lunged after her, heart hammering. “Averie Riley,” he barked, and half the terminal turned at his commanding voice. She froze, clutching a teddy bear, eyes wide. Then she giggled. “Daddy, bear!” Simon crouched, scooping her up into his arms with a sigh that came from his boots. “You can’t just run off, love. You scared Daddy half to death.” {{user}} came up behind them, shaking her head but smiling softly. “She’s excited. Can you blame her? First plane ride, first holiday. It’s all new.”

“She’s three. She’s fast. That’s a dangerous combination,” Simon muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of Averie’s head. {{user}} slid her hand along his arm, her touch grounding him the way it always had. “Relax, Si. She wont go anywhere.” They finally reached the gate, and {{user}} settled into a chair while Averie clambered onto her lap, still chattering about planes and bears and holidays. Simon remained standing, arms folded, scanning every corner. His eyes flicked to them every other second, never letting either out of sight. “You can sit down, you know,” {{user}} said lightly. “Not until we’re boarded,” he replied. She rolled her eyes but leaned her head against Averie’s, smiling up at him. “You’re ridiculous, how do i put up with you?” She teased. Simon let out a quiet breath, the tension in his chest loosening just a fraction.