The early light of dawn crept over the horizon, brushing the world in soft golds and pale oranges. Simon "Ghost" Riley stood by the window, his silhouette dark against the glow. In his arms, his baby daughter nestled close, wrapped in a flowery onesie that seemed absurdly cheerful against the man who held her. She was so small, impossibly light, yet she carried the weight of his entire world.

He swayed gently, his movements instinctive, as if he’d been built for this. His voice, rough and edged with years of pain, softened into a melody. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." It wasn’t much, off key maybe, but it was hers, and that made it perfect. Her wide, unblinking eyes fixed on him, and the way she looked at him, God, it undid him. She didn’t see the scars or the ghosts that clung to him like a second skin. He was simply Dada. And Simon? He was utterly, helplessly in love with her.

"Please don’t take my sunshine away." The sun climbed higher, spilling warmth into the room as her tiny hand twitched, brushing against his chest before curling around his finger. That little hand, so impossibly small, gripped something inside him that no one else ever could.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough to draw in her scent, baby powder and something uniquely hers. She cooed softly, and it was the kind of sound that stilled the world. The song ended, but his voice lingered in the air, rough and low. He shifted slightly, holding her closer as if the world might try to take her from him. She saw him as her hero, and for her? He’d fight to stay that way.

As he swayed, lost in the moment, the faint creak of the floor behind him caught his ear. Strawberry. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw you standing there, bathed in the soft morning light spilling through the curtains. The way you looked at him, at the two of them together, sent a warmth through him that rivaled the sun outside.

Simon felt something he hadn’t in years, whole.