20: Home At Last
John smiled at the picture frame sitting on the living room table: five faces grinned back at him, his own and his fellow Spartans. The still-shot had been taken shortly after Fred, Linda, and Kelly had mysteriously reappeared, and now occupied a place of honor in his home—his wife had insisted on it.
Wife. In all his years as a soldier, John never thought he'd end up married, and certainly not to a maverick military operative. Funny how things never end up the way you expect, he thought.
A small spot of white caught his eye: it looked like a speck of dust on the glass. When he went to wipe it off, though, he noticed it was inside the frame; opening the picture frame, he was surprised to find another sheet of paper behind the five Spartans' picture. There were words written on it, words written in his wife's bold writing:
Lost Soul
I walk alone in shadows
Where none can see my face.
Yet still I hear from many that
I do not know my place.
They know not of my trials,
But still they make these claims.
It only makes me sorrow more,
For such are all their aims.
I am but smoke upon the wind,
A shadow in the night.
Yet who would guess this faceless wraith
Would hunger for the light?
My outer face a hated mask,
Bitter, cruel, hard and cold.
Within my heart compassion waits
Loving arms to enfold.
The world could never understand
The reason I must hide.
For all they know all kindness left,
Replaced by hate and pride.
I walk alone in shadows,
My face hid by a mask.
No one will dare to look beyond,
And no one cares to ask.
Had she really felt that way, all those years ago? He knew she'd spent the better part of her military career as a solo operative, knew how many times she'd been lied to and betrayed, but he never thought it had gotten to her that badly.
"Guess I didn't hide that well enough," a soft voice murmured behind him; John turned to see his wife leaning against the back of his chair. She was very pregnant, and yet she still managed to sneak up behind him.
"I found it behind our picture," John replied, glancing between the paper and the woman. "I never thought the unstoppable Blade would ever feel pain like that, at least not in her younger days."
Laura smirked. "Younger days, indeed. I wrote that one when I was eighteen, right when ONI decided to bury my existence. I'd found out what they were going to do, and no one was listening to my protests. They told me to be grateful that I wasn't going anywhere, that I was being allowed to stay where I was." Rolling her eyes, she muttered under her breath, "Pricks."
It was taking her a lot of effort to stand; John got up and tried to help her sit down. Laura glared at him, then winced and placed a hand over her protruding abdomen.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine, John. Somebody's just not happy with me right now." She took his hand and placed it on her stomach, watching John's expression go from puzzled to pleased.
"He's definitely a kicker."
"Who said it would be a boy?" Laura smiled; she loved teasing him sometimes. "With a temper like that, it's probably a girl." Her brown eyes darkened, and John saw tears beginning to gather at the corners; she was remembering Sam and Kelly. He gently wiped them away, kissing his wife as he did so.
"Don't worry, I promise he'll be alright," he whispered. "I won't let anything happen to our child, and I know you won't either."
"I know." She smiled sadly and turned her waddling steps to the kitchen.
John winced as he and the other Spartans listened to the stream of curses coming from the delivery room. Between Laura's swearing and the nurses encouraging her to push, he was glad he wasn't in the room with her.
"She'll be fine, Master Chief," a quiet voice murmured. Angela Morisson smiled as another wave of obscenities met their ears. "It's painful, but normal. And Laura's definitely quite the fighter."
A loud scream tore through the room, followed by the thin wail of a newborn infant. Moments later a nurse poked her head out the door.
"Master Chief? She's asking for you."
Entering the room, he saw a pale version of his wife laying in the bed, a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. John moved closer and saw a tuft of bright red hair, chubby fists, and a scrunched-up chubby face.
"Care to hold your daughter, John?" Laura asked, her voice strained from shouting. John picked up the tiny bundle, noting how small she seemed in his hands.
"A red-head? Neither of us have red hair."
"True, but my grandmother did. I inherited red highlights from her, and Matt was born with a head of orange fuzz. The miracles of genetics," she sighed. John was at a loss for words, but was stopped from thinking by his wife's next question.
"What should we call her?"
Laura sat on the beach, enjoying the rare vacation time as long as she could. John was somewhere with Fred, Linda, and Kelly, and Catherine…well, she hoped Catherine was with her father. The girl's more trouble than she's worth at times, but I wouldn't have it any other way, she thought with a smile.
"Mama!" A red-haired young girl came charging toward her; Laura stood and scooped her up with little effort. She spun around several times, her daughter held high in the air, red hair and brown hair flying around them as they laughed and twirled.
"Ah, my little Cat, where did you wander off to?"
"I was with Auntie Kelly and Uncle Fred," the little girl answered quickly, and even Laura could tell she was being truthful—though the girl had spirit, she was as bad a liar as her mother.
"Oh you were, were you? And just where was your daddy during all this?" Laura smiled, tapping one finger on the end of Catherine's nose.
"He went for a walk. Dunno where he went."
"Then maybe we should be heading home. Who knows? We might surprise him if he's not expecting us there." Her smile widened when Catherine took off for the house they were staying in; whenever Laura was planning a prank on her husband, Catherine was an enthusiastic—if inexperienced--assistant.
Late that night, Laura watched the sea, aware of the man behind her. John wrapped his arms around her, gentle and reassuring. Had anyone told me that a Spartan could be kindly, I'd have laughed, she thought with a smile.
"She's grown up a lot lately, and she's perceptive," John's gravelly voice filled the silence, but to her it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
"I wonder if that isn't from our augmentations," Laura replied, turning herself around. "She's sharp as a tack most of the time, sneaky and clever. Did I tell you I caught her trying to slip out the other day?"
"Oh really? Maybe we should start teaching her discipline."
"You'd better do it—we both know my tendencies." Laura smiled even more and wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt at peace in his arms, happy and carefree like she was only Catherine's age.
"I'll take care of it, don't worry." Silence fell, but it was a good kind of silence, one where two souls could find comfort and peace. It had been a long road, but they'd finally come home, and neither one intended to leave. The Spartans were here to stay.