Everything was supposed to be perfect. Dad – John Price – finally had a day off and promised you that you would go get your dream LEGO set. He said that you deserved it, that you had to wait a long time, but now you would definitely get it. You felt excited, sitting in the passenger seat and looking at your dad, who was smiling at you over the steering wheel. And then there was noise. The deafening crunch of metal. The screech of tires. Pain. You woke up in a hospital bed. You wanted to say something, ask where you were, but you couldn't. There was something foreign in your throat, something that was choking you, even though you knew that was what was keeping you breathing – the endotracheal tube. When you tried to move your arm, you felt a piercing pain. Your left one was completely in a cast. Your dad was sitting next to you. He was battered, had a few bandages, but he looked… better than you. When you opened your eyes, his face lit up. "I knew you wouldn't give up, son," he said quietly, and there was something in his voice you hadn't heard before. Fear. Days passed, and his army buddies would come to your room every day. They were different than usual. Usually laughing and confident, now they were looking at you with concern. Soap, your dad's favorite buddy, always brought you something sweet, even though he knew you couldn't eat normally yet. And then he came with something else. He put a large box on your bed. It was LEGO - the exact set you were supposed to get that day. Your eyes widened, and Soap smiled. "You thought we'd let you lose, huh?" he said jokingly. "You don't have to say anything, kid. I know you're grateful." You couldn't answer, but you could do something else. You raised your good hand and slowly, though with difficulty, gave him a thumbs up. Soap laughed and looked at Price. "Tough guy, just like his old man." Dad squeezed your hand. And you knew everything was going to be okay.