Sorry! Should have been part of the last chapter, but I got sleepy, and had to quit. Freshly edited.

25: Wedded Bliss

Endurance, free return trajectory-

Among other things, he dreamt of falling. Of hearing a wild, screaming wind batter and claw at 7's torn hull. Watching streamers of flame grow to engulf them… and being far too occupied with directing their fall even to grunt a last prayer. Hopefully, he'd nailed the bastards.

Other, gentler things drove out fire, death and nightmare; the welcome sounds of a healthy ship and busy crew. He was home and, judging from the renewed pressure on body and leg, someone had cleaned him up, re-suited him and put a cast over the break. The pain killer had worn off, but he didn't hurt much, besides a kind of vague back-ache. Good enough.

John opened his eyes, his changed state of consciousness announced by a shrill beep from the bio-med scanner. To his left, Roger hung suspended in harness, still unconscious. The Marine's color was better, though, and the vital signs displayed by his scanner were stable, if not yet 100. John allowed a bit of that chilly 'prepared for the worst' ice to flake away. Thorpe could still make it. They all could.

Dr. Bennett had been plucking odd bits and tag-ends of equipment out of the air. During their months on Mars, the Ares III crew had tried to keep the place clean, but it was impossible to remember every misplaced pencil, screwdriver, Froot Loop and wing-nut. Zero-G brought these ghosts out of hiding again, setting them to hover like gnats. The med lab wasn't as lousy with airborne hazards as the flight deck and galley, but what there was, Linda meant to apprehend. Until John woke up, that is.

Stuffing away a captured paper wad (and Velcro-ing her trash bag to the bulkhead) Bennett altered trajectory with a deft twist and handle grab. She approached him upside-down, from above, which required a second re-orientation. Eventually, they got themselves sorted out.

John waited silently while she went through a sort of mental checklist; examining his color, reflexes, pupil size, alertness and bio-med readings. Useless to speak to her at times like these, as all she saw was a worrisome patient.

Then, visibly, the doctor receded, replaced by the woman. She gave him a quick hit from his water tube, followed by a brisk, friendly neck rub.

"Looks like you're going to live, Sunshine," she told him, trying a smile which flicked off again almost immediately.

"That's good," John replied politely. Then, "Thorpe?"

Linda grimaced slightly, catching a pen that the cabin fan had blown in her direction.

"Improving. I'll begin weaning him off the sedatives tomorrow. Mostly, I aim to prevent infection and discourage necrosis until we get back to Earth, and grow him some new parts. He'll do okay in zero-G, but the altered body image might depress him, some. Marines are strange that way… not that it matters to Cho, as long as he's alive."

She hesitated a moment, then blurted, as though the matter were troubling her,

"Listen, Su… John…about us being married… was that your idea? Or Pete's?"

He looked at her, hovering there in midair, her brown mane a wavy, swaying mass.

…and suddenly John ( or someone...) recalled asking her to marry him. At the astronaut beach house, with a bonfire dying down and the rest of the crew well into their third and fourth bottles, Pete already nodding off. He'd made eye contact with Linda Bennett, jerking his head once toward the shoreline by way of private invitation.

They'd left the fire lit circle, the crackling wood and flying sparks, for star-flecked darkness, cold sand and gently hissing surf. The breeze had been steady and cool… and she'd had no idea what was on his mind. Why would she? They'd dated some, but not exclusively, and he wasn't all that open a guy, really.

Walking beside the water, he'd taken her beer and finished it, earning a growl of mock outrage and a halfway serious punch. This led to a bit of pleasant wrestling and a kiss or two. Then, stepping away again, he'd seized Linda's hand and said,

"Guess there's only one way to find out. Will you, um… marry me? You know, before launch?"

Only… that had never happened. Not to him.Never, there on the sand, had Linda Bennett looked as though he'd just slapped her, then cried and whispered, 'yes'. Junior had been conceived on that beach...

Remembering what hadn't been, John was able to answer her question.

"It was my idea, but Pete facilitated." Or something.

The smile returned, and this time it stayed awhile, reaching her eyes, even. But there were further questions. Serious again, she probed deeper.

"Because of the baby? I mean… if something happened with Junior… would you want out, or would you want to stay married, and try again?"

No-brainer.

"Try again. But nothing's going to happen, Linda."

…because he by-God wouldn't let it. Simple. End of speculation. If he had to sell his soul to prevent it, wife and baby would never be taken from him again.

She relaxed, feeling what lay crumpled within her heart begin to unfold.

"So this isn't going to end when we get to Earth again, and Pete calls 'wheel stop'?"

He was so very hard to read; nearly expressionless, and rarely comfortable with full eye contact. Behind them, out in the passage, a deeply profane Pete McCord was making his feelings known about fuel cells, Houston, cabin debris and Kuiper's inconsiderate flight plan. Cho peeped in, saw them together, then nodded once and withdrew.

John was nothing, ever, if not inappropriate. Feeling one way, and speaking another, he replied,

"Statistically, many American males get married at this age, with about a 2-in-3 chance of staying that way. And married men live longer, on average, than their single counterparts. There are benefits for females, as well."

Linda sighed, rapping her deadpan 'Adonis' atop his blond head.

"I take it that means you want to see this thing through, Sunshine?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking away again. "I do."

So she pulled herself closer, using the harness straps, and buried her face against his shoulder.

"Us, too."

John Tracy didn't believe in 'happily ever after'. He'd experienced too many of the world's losses for that much optimism. Didn't stop him from trying, though.