Chapter Nine: Family Values

0406 Hours, June 23, 2558. Cooper-Hawk Residence, Pensacola, Florida, United States. "The Ups and Downs," Planet Earth. Prologue to the War of Tomorrow

I was seventeen in the dream this time, fourteen years ago and in a vastly different setting than what I'd encountered before. This wasn't one of my campaigns as a young second lieutenant, or a battle-scarred first lieutenant, or a veteran captain, or even more recent dreams I'd had about being a major on Khan. This was from even earlier, when I was still in high school and had just met the man I'd spend the rest of my life with - Willis.

But before that, there'd been Ethan.

I was already sobbing in the dream when it began, and all I could think - all I could feel - was fear. Soon that was replaced with pain as I was shoved hard into the wall, then slapped in the face, and finally sucker punched. He thought I was already in love with Willis then, that I was going behind his back. I wasn't, but that mattered little to Ethan. He was good at making a story out of anything and blowing everything out of proportion, even before Willis had entered the picture that school year - and when Ethan got angry, it was always me who was his target.

"You called him? Why is his number on your datapad? Why?"

I couldn't see through the tears, couldn't get enough air in my lungs to answer as I lay on the ground on all fours from the hit. It was pathetic and had it been now, I would've grabbed the fucker by the balls and dropped him down with me, dishing the hurt a lot worse than I got. But I wasn't like that back then, and all I could do was take his rage.

"He's...he's my friend," I whimpered in a small voice.

"No, he's not just your friend! You two were at his house together, alone! Do you think I'm stupid?"

I got kicked in the ribs this time, finally collapsing completely on the ground. It was then I realized that this was a nightmare retelling of the day Ethan had beaten me so badly I'd gone to the hospital. The last time he'd ever lay a hand on me again.

The dream went a little differently than in real life, though. As Ethan gathered up his fist for another blow, Willis came bursting through the door to the room, oddly dressed in fatigues he'd only don a few years later and carrying a submachine gun in his hands. He aimed it right at Ethan, who'd suddenly turned into the Flood form we'd run into on our mission in Austria during the War. We'd known it was him for sure because I'd found Ethan's dogtags after I'd shot him with my shotgun to finally put him down.

Here, though, Willis stood his ground while Ethan's Flood form went after me. Arms waving and warbling in that horrific noise, Flood Ethan swung one of his appendages at me while I continued lying there crying. This time when I got up though, I was suddenly in fatigues, too, shotgun in hand, and I rose up and kicked at his chest with my combat boot, shoving him back. I took all the hurt and the pain and the rage of that long period of abuse and I went after him with everything I had. I didn't want him dead, but a part of me had always wanted to see him pay in some way for what he'd done. The real courts had given him nothing more than a slap on the wrist. He deserved more.

In a fit of fury I threw the gun to the side and rushed him, tackling the Flood form to the ground and landing hard on top of him. Willis stood by his head, keeping his weapon trained on him, but neither spoke nor took any action himself. This was my time, and he let me have it.

Because after Willis had stopped Ethan, and I'd fallen hard for him and discovered what it was to be in a relationship that was healthy and good, I'd learned to value myself. To take care of myself and take shit from no one, something joining the Corps had instilled in me to an even greater degree. Now I had the tools and the self-assurance to get after the pricks like Ethan, and to never let someone control me through fear again.

In the dream I swung my fist at Ethan as he'd done countless times to me, for reasons imagined or even no reason at all. Revenge was wrong but it was cathartic, and as a Flood form it didn't bother me as much. I punched and punched and punched until the creature stopped moving, and just as I made a move to stand again, breathing hard, Willis stepped in closer.

"He's not dead," he said to me plainly.

I gave him a questioning look for a moment...then noticed too late that he was right.

Closely mirroring real life, Flood Ethan got up when we least expected it and slammed into Willis, throwing him hard against the far wall. I yelled out in the dream as my husband's body went limp and his chin hung low against his armored chest, unmoving.

Frozen in anguish, I didn't think to put up a defense when Flood Ethan whipped around and returned his attention to me. Almost slowly he moved in, backing me up to a window, and with a crazed grin - something impossible on his gnarled and decaying face - he pushed me out.

The last thing I remembered was the sound and feel of being forced through breaking glass. I woke up with my heart thudding inside my chest and sat straight up in bed, ready to react to the adrenaline coursing through my body. In a minute I slowed my breathing, though, and realized the nightmare was over. Ethan had been dead for six years now, I reasoned to myself. And Willis was lying right beside me, still asleep and very clearly alive. The house was quiet. There wasn't anything wrong.

Yet in some way, I still felt that there was. I had an indescribable feeling of impending suffering and I couldn't make it go away enough for me to lay back down and try to return to sleep. Not after a dream like that. So once again, I found myself getting up alone in the middle of the night.

Awake now and unsure of what else to do, I simply did the same thing I'd done the last time and pulled on some sweats to venture out into the kitchen. There I fished out the bottle of liquor I'd raided last time and poured some into a glass, then took a long swig. Almost immediately I felt a calm settle over me, and while the dream was still fresh in my mind, I wasn't as bothered. It was like peace.

Well, if the meds won't do the trick, at least this does, I thought.

I remembered to put the bottle away this time and moved over into the living room, flicking on the holoscreen at a low volume before throwing myself down on the couch. I wasn't about to sit there in the dark on my own again and brood. At least this way, I could maybe take my mind off things.

I'd been watching for about twenty minutes when I heard a panicked, "Mom!" come from one of the rooms. I got up as if on a spring and bounded through the hall, rushing into Gabriel's room. My heart only steadied once I was inside and saw him sitting up in his bed, looking sleepy but scared.

"Gabe? What's wrong?"

He reached out for me and hugged me hard before I could even sit down on the edge of the bed. I ran my fingers through his light brown hair as I hugged him back.

"Honey, what is it?"

"I...had a...bad dream," he said with a quivering voice. "It was...about you."

"Me? Why? What happened?"

He sniffled against my shirt. "You died," he whispered. "You left us and you didn't come back."

"Sweetheart...I'm not going to die. I'm not going anywhere." The words stuck in my throat as I knew that I couldn't be sure about the latter part - or the former really, either. But for now I didn't want my son being even more afraid, and I wasn't quite ready to impart the news to my family yet about Requiem until I knew for sure. "Where are these ideas coming from?"

"I don't know. I get worried when you and Dad have to leave."

Those words were like a stab to the heart. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't always protect my family from the realities of the job we'd chosen. But knowing it caused my firstborn this much distress was worrisome. What hurt even more was that I knew he'd already been through a number of traumatic events in his young life, when he'd been a little under three years old and had to go through the battle of Earth. He'd also had to say goodbye to Willis and I more than once, when we'd left on missions and most especially when we'd had to go to Kenya - the final fight both Willis and I had thought we wouldn't come back from. It was no wonder the poor kid was left spooked.

I was about to whisper more assurances when Willis came into the room, rubbing at his eyes but looking concerned.

"Natalie? Gabe? Are you guys okay?"

Gabriel, still holding onto me tight, nodded. "Dad, I'm...sorry. I know I shouldn't...cry."

A corner of my husband's lips curled up as he made his way to the other side of our son's bed. "Nope. You're a big boy now, and your brother and sister look up to you so you've got to set the example. But being tough doesn't mean you never get scared. What happened?"

"He had a nightmare," I answered. "About me."

"A nightmare?" Willis asked, ruffling Gabe's hair that looked just like his own. "Then you know that whatever it was, bud, it's definitely not real. Me and your mom are still here, and we're both okay and so are Liam and Liv. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon. So what's there to worry about?"

"N-nothing, I guess."

"That's right. So let's get you back to sleep and you'll see us again in the morning, okay?"

"M'kay."

As Willis tucked our son back into bed, I felt bad about not saying anything then. But I figured the middle of the night wasn't the best time to broach the subject. I guess it would never be the right time, but for now, with my son feeling comforted by the presence of both his parents, I didn't want to ruin the moment.

Going through my classes the next day felt like a chore. Not only because I hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before, but also because I had looming concerns about if and when we were going to get new orders to deploy, something I'd thought wasn't going to be a possibility for at least a year. And because things with Willis - and what he was going to do about his career - were still very uncertain. I almost relished gym hour since I was able to work out hard enough to block out anymore thoughts, and concentrate only on keeping my body honed for the next field exercise - or real-life mission. Either way, I was going to need all I had.

At the end of the day I stopped by the regiment offices, if only to allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief when I found out we weren't getting shipped out quite yet. What I did hear from Major Brewer, however, wasn't exactly good news.

"Ma'am, I was going to leave about an hour ago, but we had an incident during training out there today," she said to me, running a hand through her short red hair. "Major Mullen was badly injured."

I frowned as I stood in the hallway. "How bad?"

"Pretty bad, Colonel. He got too close to an explosion during live-fire and got himself a concussion and a couple of broken ribs. One of them didn't break too cleanly and he's going to need surgery, plus recovery time."

"Dammit." I put a hand to my temple. "So what you're saying is, if we do end up leaving for Requiem soon, he's not going to be healthy enough by then to come with us."

"No, ma'am. And that leaves us with a void in the command spot for the 904th Battalion...unless you want Captain Warfield back on board."

I snorted. "No. He caused enough trouble last time he got promoted. He can't be leadership material until he learns to take orders." Truth was, he was lucky I hadn't officially court-martialed him after his persistent insubordination on Khan. What I'd done instead was demote him from his former rank of major, but even that was a lesser punishment than sending him in front of a military judge.

"Anyone else we can use as a replacement if we have to, then?"

Wracking my brain for a moment, I thought of a possible candidate or two but eventually dismissed them as having too little experience. Then a thought began to form in my head. "Actually, I think I might have someone in mind, Major. But he's not from the regiment, and it might be hard to get him."

"Who, ma'am?"

"One of my classmates at the College," I replied. "His name is Major Justin Delaney."

Later that evening I was sitting with the twins at the kitchen table, studying more material from class while they colored. Having already forgotten about early this morning, Gabriel was out in the living room with Willis, having a blast playing some games together on the holoscreen. I could hear both of them laughing on occasion and it made me smile. I was glad that despite all the challenges we were currently facing, they could still find time to relax and have fun.

I tried my best not to think about the fact that soon, I might not be able to enjoy the luxury of having my husband and son close by anymore, just in the next room. Or the twins next to me either, for that matter. I swallowed hard.

"Mommy, what're you reading?"

I glanced up and saw my daughter staring at me with green eyes that mirrored my own, and the same long brown hair. I picked her up from the seat beside me and sat her in my lap to show her. "Stuff for my classes. This chapter's about how to move around tanks and trucks."

Though she probably wouldn't be too interested in the details, I knew she'd like seeing the pictures and diagrams. There weren't any graphic depictions of battle in the textbooks we used, only representations of the best tactical approaches and photos of the types of equipment we'd use.

"Wow," she said after a while of scrolling through the pages. "Are there planes in there, too?"

"Yup. A whole other chapter on 'em. As a colonel I need to know how to work with all kinds of things."

Her eyes suddenly lit up. "Really? I wanna see!"

I chuckled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You're your father's daughter, all right. Okay, here's the chapter on moving around all sorts of planes."

"Cool!"

Olivia had had a love of all kinds of aircraft since birth, something I attributed to Willis's own passion for the same things. I knew for sure it wasn't something she'd gotten from me, since I had something closely resembling a phobia to being inside any flying bucket I couldn't fight my way out of, like I could on the ground. After a moment Liam came over to check out the pictures, too, and soon my study session was usurped by the greater wants of my two four-year-olds.

They were both peering down at my datapad, captivated, when Willis and Gabriel walked in.

"Hey, what's that?" my oldest son asked.

"Pictures from my textbook. Want to take a look?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, five more minutes, guys. Then I need to get back to reading, please."

While the kids sat around the table, engrossed in the pad, I made my way over to Willis and rested my head against his shoulder as he enveloped me in his arms.

My husband kissed the top of my head and asked, "What are they looking at?"

"Just some military hardware. Liv asked me about it first, then she wanted to see all the pictures of the Pelicans and Broadswords and stuff, and then Liam got curious with all of her oooing and ahhing."

Willis laughed. "That's usually how it works. I remember doing the same thing with Jamie and my little brother growing up."

"Speaking of little brothers, have you heard from Matt yet?"

"Not for a while. Supposedly he's still at boot camp doing his thing. He should be graduating in a couple more weeks."

My eyes went wide. "Already?"

"Yup. He's been there eight weeks now. At that point he'll officially become a UNSC Marine like us." Willis let out a heavy sigh. "Jesus. Isn't that a scary thought? Soon I'll have someone else to worry about. Like you and my little sister weren't enough."

I gave him a squeeze. "We'll be fine, Will. All of us. We all survived the Flood, and the War, and Khan. Whatever comes next should be a piece of cake after everything else."

What I didn't say aloud, however, was that I already had a pretty good idea what the next big thing would entail.