May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary
- Xan Oku
Hocus' visit to Morgan hadn't been just a one-off fluke, never to be repeated. Instead, it had been a jumping off point to something more. An eternal engine had been sitting dormant before a spark ignited it, and now there wasn't a soul in the galaxy that could stop it. The three day visit had been one that came and went in a fraction of the time together, it felt like, and when Morgan had walked Amber back out to her car, Morgan was worried that she'd have to wait until the next time to spend more time with her friend.
Inside, she had wondered why it felt so familiar, this feeling of goodbye, before realizing that tomorrow was never guaranteed. A goodbye today might be a goodbye forever, and not because it was anybody's fault, but because the world was cruel. She was living proof of that.
Her fears had been put to rest though, and Amber had been more than happy to reassure her by sending her another text message even while her car was still in the driveway prior to leaving. Her message had been almost teasing. "Had to make sure you missed me during my trip back to base."
Morgan had laughed at it at first, but she had done exactly that when she had been alone again. She had missed the pilot. It had been wonderful having company. She enjoyed Kris' company as well, but something about Amber was different, and she couldn't explain why.
But it hadn't been too long of a wait, only a few hours. Almost every night after that had been spent together, watching movies and branching out to longer running shows that had multiple seasons. They sometimes were relegated only to hearing the other's voice, but sometimes they were able to use cameras together, to see each other eye to eye. It had amused Amber, watching Morgan try to learn how to use her camera, set up the programs she needed, and more.
In the end, it had worked itself out, and they were able to keep each other company on good days and bad, no matter how far away they were. Though Morgan did look forward to Amber's return. Morgan was left to her own devices when Amber was in the air or otherwise occupied with her duties. Amber made it clear that wasn't a reason to not send her things that Morgan enjoyed, though.
It had been slow going at first as Morgan tried to find what she truly liked. Sometimes, it was the mountainside behind her home, where she'd taken long walks, and copious pictures of things that she thought were nice. Pictures were crooked or slightly out of focus, a thumb obscuring the lens partially sometimes.
But it never mattered whether it was perfect or not. Amber was happy with these things, seeing it as plenty of progress for a woman who needed it more than anything. It kept the woman moving, kept her out of her home, even if it was nature walks for now.
Neighbors on the next street, further up the mountainside, had waved and called hello when she'd started taking the trip. She had learned to wave back and return the gesture, sometimes just with a smile. Little did she know that her neighbor across the street was more than just an older woman with a nosy streak. She was also quite the messenger when out of Morgan's sight.
The Spartan never suspected anything, but it worked wonderfully.
Other things had come to follow not long after. Music was something that Morgan had latched on to, and Amber was quickly inundated in a sea of songs that were new, some old, and some that she'd never expected herself to like. She sent some right back, and it became another thing to bond over when watching something wasn't in the cards during their nightly calls.
It wasn't uncommon to simply listen to music together quietly, and more than once one of them had fallen asleep during their calls. It was usually Amber, though, Morgan more than capable of staying awake when the sun went down, if only to spend a little more time with her friend.
It was easy enough to distract the Spartan, Amber had learned, when her mind wandered. Part of the near-constant work that Amber did when they were interacting with the other was to help Morgan learn to lead a better life that she'd lost the chance for when her home had been destroyed and her number come up, when she'd become a Spartan. More than that, though, Amber just genuinely enjoyed her company, and Morgan felt the same.
Today was another one of those days where Amber was busy, and for once, Kris was gone as well, gone off to visit her children. Morgan pursed her lips as she saw that Kris wasn't home. She had always been home, it felt like, and with her gone, the big woman had to find ways to make it through on her own.
Sitting on her couch in jeans and a t-shirt, she watched the ceiling intently, as if she was making sure it wasn't going to move. Her thoughts were jumbled as she tried to make sense of what to do for the day. A walk? Eh. Movies? No. Music? Not now. She'd watched all of the movies she had been interested in, and music would ease her mind, but not make her any less restless. She couldn't watch any of her long running shows either. She didn't want to leave Amber behind.
The thought came to her that it was ironic that she was restless. She had spent so long waiting for a break or a chance to stop fighting for a little while, and here she was, wanting to do anything but lie here on the couch.
It seemed like she laid there forever, going over the things she'd done, the things she'd thought of, and even the things she needed to do. The last bit had her mind slow down. She did need to do a few things sooner or later. Restock her food, a few cleaning supplies, some hiking gear even for when she decided she wanted to go further through that path and into the wilderness itself. Maybe that would be good for her.
It wasn't anything fun per se, but it needed to be done, and she grunted as she forced herself to her feet and went to find her shoes, her keys, and a coat. It was starting to get cold outside, and while she could handle it, she'd rather cover the scars on her arms and legs. She didn't want people staring.
Stepping into her garage, she turned the light on and looked at the Warthog that she'd been driving since she'd gotten here. It was the same as before. A little dirtier, but she was still reliable when Morgan needed to go out. More than once, people had seen the big vehicle in the streets. Some gawked, some ignored it, others honked at it because it was so damn big and took up most of the road. If nothing else, it was the only one in town, and anybody who saw it knew who it belonged to.
Climbing in, she opened the garage door and backed out onto the street slowly. It had taken time, but she'd learned that just because she owned the whole speedometer didn't mean she had to use the whole speedometer. Not anymore at least.
The drive into town was slow, leisurely, and took a few minutes. Not because it was far away, but because Morgan just enjoyed the slow, winding path down to the town proper. She could see it from her bedroom window, but it was always nice to take the path in slowly.
The mid-day sun was watching over the town, and the Spartan that was making her way into it. There was a larger retail outlet that would sell basically everything she needed, but she'd be buying the hiking and cleaning supplies there, going to a smaller business for her food. She'd be going out of her way, but there were less people there. It also had a nice little bakery-deli combo where she got some of her favorite items. She didn't like exclusively pre-packaged processed food very much. Not after years of eating it.
It took a while to get to the retail outlet. Her Warthog was too big for some of the smaller roads, and she didn't want to cause any issues, so she had to take a longer route. By now, most people knew of the Warthog, but without fail, there was usually at least one rubber necker trying to figure out who was behind the tinted windshield of the utility vehicle. It amused her sometimes.
Pulling into the parking lot, she parked as far away from the door as she could. She wasn't fond of the idea of trying to fit into any free spaces, and it was better this way. More secure, in a sense. Closing the doors and locking the vehicle, she pocketed the keys and made her way inside.
Everything was organized the same every time, and it didn't take long to find what she needed. Cleaning supplies first. A cart in hand, Morgan took to the aisle and skimmed through everything, trying to remember what Kris had showed her in the beginning. She forgot sometimes, despite her super-human memory.
She stopped at aerosols first. Hefting two cans, she looked over them, frowning slightly. One was purple, the other orange. Citrus and lavender. Which one should she get? Her usual pick was out. Spraying one of them for a moment, she took a whiff of the citrus. It smelled good enough, and she decided she liked it. What about lavender? It went through the same process, and she frowned again. She liked both. Which should she get?
She thought about it for a moment, before she sighed. Why was she trying to pick one or the other? She didn't have to do that. Shrugging, she tossed them both in her cart and smiled softly. Long gone were the days of picking and choosing weapons and gear for a mission or a situation. Here, she could do whatever she wanted and nobody would stop her.
She went through the aisle and the bordering aisles to get what she wanted, never making compromises between one item or the other. By the end of it, she realized she had gotten more than she needed, and thought about putting some back, but forced herself not to, shaking her head. This was perfect.
Hiking supplies came next. At least here, she would have a better idea of what to get naturally, given she had spent more than one night in the woods on Onyx with nothing. Long buried desires in a cold forest at night reminded her of exactly what she needed.
Big pack, sleeping bag, tent, ranging supplies, the list went on, until her cart was starting to overflow. Even while the cashier rung her up, giving all of her items a once over, Morgan was smiling to herself. Another shopping trip complete, a little more progress made towards being a normal person. She was pleased with herself, and she decided she quite liked the feeling. It was satisfying, in a way.
Paying for it, it all went from the cart right into the back of the Warthog outside. Nothing was really organized, but it didn't need to be. She had more than enough space that she couldn't hope to fill the whole thing up in one trip. This was made for people, bulk supplies, and all manner of logistics needs. Surely one person's materials wouldn't hurt it.
Next came the small store that would help her stay fed. The parking lot was much smaller this time, but still had a few cars in it. There was a spot that Morgan always parked in, on the far left side of it from the main entrance. It was always empty. She liked the pattern of it, knowing exactly how far away it was. Sometimes, she liked counting her steps, as if trying to make sure it hadn't changed. When her hand settled on the handle to pull open the door, she counted her last step. Exactly the same amount as last time, and the time before, and so on.
Stepping inside, it was less harshly lit than the retail outlet, and the woman at the register called out to welcome her. Morgan wasn't exactly a regular customer, coming through weekly, but most of the employees knew her by sight now, if not name. Morgan smiled and waved at the woman behind the register before heading down a side aisle, cart in hand. She always worked her way from one end to the other, another routine that helped her remember what she needed and so she wouldn't pass something up and forget it.
Soft music played through the speakers in the ceiling, and she hummed along as she realized she knew one of the songs, smiling without realizing it. It felt good. The air was a perfect temperature, the music was the perfect volume, there weren't many people, it all just felt… normal. She liked normal. It made her feel like she was going to make it as a civilian, without a war looming, without her needing to fight it.
She felt like she was settling into a new place that wasn't just that same old mold she had lived in for so long. New routines, new experiences, new people. It was perfect for her. She was at ease.
She sighed softly as she finished going through the aisles, and made her last stop at the bakery-deli. A big man was standing behind the counter, sharpening a large cleaver.
Greg, the butcher. He owned part of the place. The other was his brother, Dave, who owned the bakery portion. They ran their little business well, and she had met both of them each time she came here. She wasn't sure if they were exactly friends of hers, but she liked them, and considered them friends nonetheless. They were some of the few people that had gotten to interact with her properly.
Stopping in front of him, she smiled softly as her shadow covered the light on him, and he frowned, looking a little bewildered. He was a big, broad man with a chest as big as a barrel and arms like tree trunks. He wasn't used to people casting him in their shadow, and he looked up, catching Morgan's eye before his face let a smile crack.
"I'll never get used to how big you are," he said with a chuckle.
"Not many people do," Morgan said softly, smiling.
"I'll bet. Never seen a woman as big as you before, and you're probably the tallest woman in this town by a good foot or so."
"Is that a bad thing?" She asked, watching him put his cleaver back into its block with the rest of his knives.
"No, no… just saying you're like a damn building that moves."
That got a light laugh from her. "I don't know about that, Greg. I read in a book that it's not polite to say such things to a woman."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "You wear a hoodie and hide your hair and people would think you're a man… a very big man."
She shook her head. "I can tell you with certainty that I've seen men much larger than me."
He whistled as he grabbed an apron and tied it on. "I don't know if I wanna meet whoever that is."
Her smile faltered a little. "You don't have to worry too much," she said, Jorge's face flashing in her mind's eye. "They're all gone now," she said.
He cut his eyes at her, his own lips turning down slightly, but he figured he shouldn't dwell on it. "Well, if they were here, you'd all put me out of business," he said, his smile coming back.
That got her to laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said, knowing that she bought a decent amount of meat from him compared to most people.
"So," he went on, putting a pair of gloves on. "What'll it be this time?"
She hummed and moved a little to look at all of the meats and cheeses in the display case. While this was primarily a deli, he did stock some items that most would only find at a butcher, given how much space his half had in the back. "You got any new big pieces in?"
"Couple of big cows came through earlier this week that I've been working my way through. You want some of them?"
"Please," she said. "I've been trying to learn to cook meat properly, and experimenting with what I like the most. Some research tells me I want… Get me a tenderloin, or a couple. I want to try working with those this week, and maybe next week I'll try something else. Any recommendations?"
He bit at his cheek as he thought about it. "Tenderloin is good if you want some of the best meat out of the cow. Can't go wrong with that. It gets expensive though, depending on the actual cut and the cow in particular. You want me to grab you some of those?"
"Yeah, about five of them. You already cut them or can I be choosy?"
He shrugged. "I have one that's been picked around. I can cut it however you'd like. Give me a weight and I'll do it up for you."
"Cut each of them to be about… three-quarter pound. I'll see how it does me and I'll adjust next time."
He gave a low whistle. "Feeding an army?"
She shook her head, a light smile sneaking onto her face. "In a sense. Gotta stay huge somehow, right?"
He laughed. "So that's how you got so damn big. At this rate, you may as well go into a farmer's field and pay him to let you carry it home as is. Gimme a few and I'll get your meat. Dave should be around here somewhere, so you might see him."
Smiling a bit more, she nodded. "I'll keep an eye out," she said. "Thank you, Greg."
The big man chuckled as he stepped away from the counter and disappeared into the back. She stood there for a time, humming softly to herself as she waited. Before long, Dave appeared, a large tray of bread in hand. He set it on the counter, starting to put each loaf in individual bags, before he noticed her.
"Hey!" He called out, and she glanced over with a wave. Dave was much smaller than his older brother was. Skinnier and lanky, he was a good six feet and a few inches. Where Greg had grown wide, Dave had grown like a weed. He was also a lot more energetic in his interactions, from her experience.
"Dave," she said with a smile.
He didn't stop his bagging, deciding to work and talk at the same time. "Right on time, as usual," he said, pointing out that she'd come here around the same time on the same day of the week since she'd started coming to the place.
"I'm a punctual woman," she said. "How have you been?"
He shrugged with a smile of his own. "Oh, you know, same old.
"And your wife?"
"She's been good. She'll be coming back at the end of the week, and I'll have her all to myself for the next week," he said, his smile turning into a grin. His wife was a professor that taught at a university a few hours away. Rather than make the drive every day, she would spend the week on campus, and come back to spend time with him on the weekends.
"Vacation?" Morgan asked.
"Yeah, she's taking time off so we can visit her parents. They've got something planned and she isn't telling me anything about it. I don't know if I should be scared or excited."
She hummed at that. "I'll say you should be excited. It's a lot more time than normal, yeah? Gotta enjoy it while you can," she said. It was true. Having been away from Amber for a month now, she was feeling it, and inside, she wished that they had been able to spend a week together. "Who's gonna watch your half of the place while you're gone?"
"New guy moved in a couple weeks ago, had experience with his own place prior to this, but he's older, wanted to settle down and retire, but still keep busy. He's been working every other day but he'll be here all next week, in case I'm not back by the next time you're here."
"Do I have to worry about him messing anything up?" She asked teasingly.
"Oh no, I wouldn't say that. He's done good work so far. He'll take care of you," Dave reassured.
"I'll trust you then," she said with a light smile. Her eyes left Dave and cast across the products that lined his back wall and the case that came up to her waist right in front of her. Scanning through them, she spotted something she wanted, or at least, she thought she wanted. She'd seen it during an advertisement, and it had seemed mouthwatering at the time. Pointing at it, she looked back to him. "Can I get a half dozen of these, please?"
Dave stopped his bagging and looked down at it, putting gloves on without missing a beat. "Cinnamon rolls?"
"The swirly thing with the white topping, yeah."
He couldn't help but chuckle at that. "First timer, then?"
"Unfortunately," she replied.
With the smile still on his face, he reached into the case where several of them had been sitting under a heat lamp. Six of them came out and went into a small case that he passed over to her.
She went to pull out her card to pay, and he shook his head. "These are on me today. I just made them not long ago, so they're relatively fresh, too," he said with a bigger grin.
Morgan returned it, nodding. "Thank you," she said, pocketing her card again. "I hope they're as good as they look."
He gave her a playful look at that. "You wound me," he said.
She would have kept up with him, but Greg came out from the back area he had disappeared to, and Morgan gave Dave a smile as she started to move back to Greg's side. "Thank you again, Dave," she said.
With her farewells to the baker, she stopped in front of the butcher. He had the meats packaged for her, five of them in five vacuum sealed bags. "Alright, here ya go, all five tenderloins, three quarter pound each."
As he started ringing up the total, Morgan smiled mischievously. "I don't get free items here? I might have to just do all of my shopping with Dave.
At that, Greg looked almost offended, then looked back at his brother, who had suddenly turned away, but Morgan could see his shoulders shaking, however slightly, before she looked back to Greg.
He sighed, shaking his head. "Damn him…" he muttered softly.
Morgan finally let herself laugh, Greg watching the cheshire grin spread across her face. "I'm teasing," she said.
He just shook his head again, but she could see his own smile had come, and as he gave her the total, she passed her card over, and it was taken this time. Payment changed hands, and she took her meat into a bag, setting it in her cart and heading to the register to check out.
All of it went through and within a few more minutes, she was outside and loading her vehicle once more. It wasn't enough to crowd the big Warthog. In the time she'd had the vehicle, she'd put shallow dividers into the bed of the rear. There was very little that she wouldn't be able to fit in it, now that she thought about it.
She hummed as she finished loading everything inside, before grabbing the box of cinnamon rolls and closing the steel doors before going around to the front and climbing in. She sat there quietly for a moment, before she pulled one of the cinnamon rolls out and held it up. Sniffing it, she could almost taste it already. It was incredibly sweet smelling, and still warm. Putting it to her lips, she took a bite, and nearly cringed.
"Damn, that's sweet," she muttered to herself as she pushed the chunk into her cheek to lick the icing off of her lips before she actually got around to chewing it and swallowing. She stared for a little while longer, trying to figure out why it was so sweet, but no answers were forthcoming. Frowning at it, she took another bite, feeling it slowly start to be more bearable by the time she got through it.
Licking her lips again, she realized her fingers were sticky, taking a moment to put each one in her mouth to try and get rid of it. Humming, she closed the box, making a note to see if Kris reacted similarly whenever she got back home.
Putting the vehicle in gear, she started heading home, and traffic seemed nonexistent now for some reason, so it was a quick drive. When she pulled into her driveway and stepped out, she saw that Kris' car was still gone. Frowning, she sighed softly. With Kris gone, what was there to do now that she had done what had been needed? The cinnamon rolls could wait. They would have to.
Taking everything inside, she decided to sort her new things, using the spare room that hadn't been used for sleeping, dumping most of it into an unused corner. In it, a rudimentary weight setup was coming along slowly. She'd always been one to use only her body during her workouts. Her augmentations meant she was strong even without trying, but she knew it would keep her busy.
Slipping out of her jeans and coat, she didn't bother to put shorts on. Spartan modesty had been one of the first casualties they'd experienced. A speaker in the wall came to life with music from a randomized playlist that she'd been adding to over the last few weeks, and she picked up the first dumbbell. The blocky stencil on the side of it said 100lb, and she grunted as she worked her way through it in sets for a time, switching arms halfway through the routine.
The burning was never as pronounced as it had been when she was younger. She could sit here all day long curling that dumbbell and it would never feel as exhilarating as some of those harder nights on Onyx, when they'd all been run ragged, but the sensation had been euphoric to her younger self.
She never put the dumbbell down, really. She just grabbed another after the first workout was done, switching to lying on her back and lifting them as if she was trying to bench press them. She hadn't bought much equipment because these would do plenty of her arm workouts with ease, and she was showing it now. If anything, she needed to go up in size. These weren't offering a challenge anymore. Several other workout groups came and went, and two hours followed them.
The song switched and she stood, moving to her treadmill, turning the speed up and setting the run on endless, along with an adaptive pace modifier. It slowly came to life, and she kept pace with it until, half an hour later, the machine had said she'd run ten miles. Sweat covered her body, her t-shirt sticking to her and defining each and every muscle on her upper body, still tensed from her arm workouts. Her legs pumped like they were an eternal engine, never stopping so long as she had the will to carry on.
The music kept going, and that same song that had sent her back to Reach that day had come on. The pounding drum beat, sounding almost primal in her ears, had her workout room disappearing as her eyes returned to Onyx.
A deep forest with trees as wide as any skyscrapers on Earth or Reach, and likely just as tall, climbed out of the ground, reaching for the stars as if they could one day meet them. The crack of rifles firing, the whiz of the special tactical ammunition passing by their ears, the yell of another Spartan as they took a hit and went down with numbed extremities or core. The beat matched her foot falls, and the treadmill slowly accelerated with her as it felt her speeding up from the initial pace.
Morgan's mind had sent her back to the places she had been as a child, when she'd been forced to run from her trainers on Onyx. More than once, capture by trainers had led to almost torture like scenarios, being beaten and bloodied, bones cracked or broken, nearly bleeding out. It was inhumane, but they all knew that if the Covenant caught the Spartans, there would be far worse done to one of the Demons. The Covenant didn't take prisoners, but nobody really wanted to test that theory. The insurrection was still alive in those years as well, and while they had gone to ground after the war started, Morgan had seen her fair share of active operations while working for ONI.
The vision changed as she heard another scream of a comrade going down. This time, it was the sound of heavy boots on concrete, bright lights above lighting her armor up as she shouldered her rifle again and pulled the trigger. One short burst and it cut down another human, one bearing the red closed fist of the insurrection. He went down without a sound, and so did his ally that had been next to him. The vision blurred as the memory faded, more gunfire sounding.
A dark building, the sky above turned black and purple, tinged red from the endless fires burning in New Alexandria. The ding of an elevator door opening. Sprinting out of the shadows and into the light.
"Where does he get off calling a demolition op priority on-"
Foosh.
Morgan stopped, turned to make sure her sister was alright, and she went to reach for Kat, now limp with an obvious hole in her helmet that went all the way through, but she never made it.
The memory broke, and she was cast off of the treadmill, moving at a speed that kept a Spartan at full sprint from outpacing it. With the speed it was going, she nearly flew across the room as she fell and rolled to a stop against the opposing wall, the treadmill shutting down as a safety measure now that there was no runner.
Now, curled in a heap on the floor, Morgan frowned, and even whined softly as she came to an abrupt stop from a high tempo workout. The thought of Kat again made her want to cry, and she slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, bringing her knees in and wrapping her arms around them before she put her forehead against them as well, fully cocooning herself.
She hadn't cried since before the memorial, when she'd been in the hospital a few months ago now. She had felt like she'd been all cried out, like she'd never cry again. The vision of losing Kat again had been too much, and while the woman had haunted Morgan those last days of the war, she'd not see her death again since that first night.
Her heart was racing now, her chest heaving as she struggled to pull air in, curled up like she was. She forced herself to let go and sit up all the way, to suck in as much air as she could. That had been what the training was for. Oxygen was critical in any scenario, be it in vacuum or after a full on sprint. Always keeps breathing, because breathing meant you were still alive, still able to fight. That was what she had to do, to keep fighting these memories.
Sweat covered her face and her body, made worse from the traumatic memory, and she sighed softly as she calmed down. One step forward, two steps back. She was going to take a lot longer than a few good months and some workout equipment to put her sister and the rest of Noble to rest.
Crawling over to her discarded jeans, she pulled her phone out, standing up and turning the music off. She saw that she had a message waiting for her. It was from Hocus.
Hey! Duty ended early! They tried to keep me in the hangar but I managed to get out of it. What's up?
Morgan let loose an explosive sigh. She wouldn't be alone. Taking the phone to her room, she laid down in the floor, not wanting the bed at the moment. I had another one.
The message had only been sent just a few moments before when a phone call made the phone buzz and vibrate in her hands. She blinked, seeing Hocus' contact name and picture pop up, the woman grinning in the picture.
Answering it, Morgan put it to her head. "You move quick."
The reply was immediate. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…" she felt a slight sting, looking down. She'd gotten a nasty carpet burn on her arm. "Had a flashback."
"How bad?"
"I watched her die again."
"...I'm sorry, Morgan."
Morgan never really knew how to respond to apologies for something that wasn't someone's fault. "When did you say you had leave again?"
Hocus hadn't expected that. "Uh… got some time built up if you wanna see each other again this…" A pause for a moment. "...How about next weekend?"
"Next weekend sounds perfect, if you don't mind," Morgan replied, sounding a little sheepish. She hadn't expected it to go like this. She'd expected to just be able to text back and forth, but Amber had pounced on it to ensure she was okay.
"Perfect, next weekend it is. We'll do something different this time! You busy tonight?"
"You know I'm never busy."
"Sick, we'll burn through the rest of our show then. Get comfy, because in about… an hour and a half, you're stuck with me until 0800 my time tomorrow. Got a problem with that?"
Morgan smiled softly, some of the stress easing away. "No, never."
"That doesn't mean you're getting off easy. Now you have me on the line until my phone dies. So how has your day been? Y'know, other than… this."
Morgan's smile grew a little wider. "It was… good. I got cinnamon rolls earlier, and…"
With the aid of the pilot, the memory of Kat's death was left behind, still in the back of her mind, but not tormenting her anymore. Maybe the rain really was needed some days, to see what good could come of it.
