"It's time to be immortal, 'cause heroes never die"

- Megadeth, Blood of Heroes


There were so many places to go. She could go back to S Deck, to hide in her office. She could go to her quarters, go to one of the many gyms, go to seek out Hocus. But there was something wrong with every option that came to mind that she knew would be unforgivable. She doubted John or Cortana would think twice, but she would, and she would carry the thought to her grave.

She would be hiding.

Hiding from the fact that she was sending the two of them off to, at worst, their deaths, to another isolation that she feared they wouldn't survive. Would she find them again?

Could you sacrifice me to complete your mission? Could you watch me die?

Those words echoed in her mind, and she squinted her eyes closed as she halted in an empty corridor, dropping into the closest room. It was empty, thankfully. There was a pressure building in her, one that felt like she was suffocating. Her helmet came off, hooked to her hip, and she squeezed down the sensation that reminded her of vomit. There was no salivating in preparation, no nausea, nothing that told her it was really coming. It was claustrophobia, but for once, her armor wasn't protecting her like it had done so many times.

In her mind, she knew she didn't have much time. There wasn't any to waste. They would be leaving soon, and Infinity would be leaving immediately after. She would lose her chance. There had been such fire in her, mixed with that cold steel she had perfected. But now it was all gone, and she wondered why she was feeling this way.

What was it? She had seen Kat get snuffed right in front of her, Emile go down fighting, Jorge disappearing with the biggest fucking bomb either of them had seen, and Carter channeling his inner divine wind. She'd nearly held Johnson when he'd breathed his last. There'd been a breakdown when she realized just how close they'd gotten only for the Chief and Cortana to be left behind.

Had something changed? Was it that she was sending them out herself this time and staying behind? Was it the unspoken possibility that this might be the last time they'd speak?

No. She knew what it was. It was that she'd changed over the years. She knew the reasoning, her Spartan brain told her that it was logical, rational, reminded her of all the times she'd been told there was the difference between spending a life and wasting it, of all the times she'd had to remind herself.

Now? She wasn't spending a life or wasting one. She was leaving a friend. She was leaving two of them. One was on the edge of shattering, of coming apart at the seams, and the other one must have been so damn tired, but he kept going because he had to. Because he was the only one who could. They'd brought down the Ark and the Covenant together. But now she had to stay behind. She couldn't cover his back.

He was getting old. Hell, she was only 27 and she could feel it on the worst nights. She'd push through it every time it came on. But him? He'd been at this longer than she'd been alive. There was no low tempo for him. She had no idea just how strong he was, but he had his breaking point. They all did. Would he meet his on this mission?

She didn't know. All she knew was that she couldn't let them go without speaking to them one more time. Not just for her, but for him, too.

Pushing down the feeling that had nearly upended her gut, she put her helmet back on and strode from the room, long strides carrying her to where she knew they'd gone, one of the smaller hangar bays that serviced individual ships over the cavernous bays that took up several decks on their own.

The Pelican Gunship sat waiting, deck crew loading up ammo and arms, fueling the bird until she was full, and ensuring all systems were working perfectly. The Master Chief, however, stood apart. His back was to her, and he was staring through the open bay, protected only by the thin shield that maintained the bay's atmosphere. Cortana was atop the small AI pedestal next to him. Her own back was to the bay. Morgan's eyes watched as she turned, her lips moving. Concern played across blue features.

Then it was gone as she saw Morgan approaching, and the conversation stopped with the Master Chief turning to look at her.

Swallowing, Morgan stepped up next to him. "I wish I could go with you."

John merely watched her through his visor as she looked out over the interior of the world, eyes taking in the dozens of floating structures, the sea of clouds, the late afternoon shade the sun was casting across the place. In a way, that shade of light reminded her of home. She hated that it did.

A few more moments of taking in the sight, and she looked back to him, gold visor meeting gold visor. "I trust you, completely. I know you're the only person that can do this. That's not an exaggeration. I could send the ship's entire compliment of Spartans with you, and something tells me you'd be the only one to come through the smoke on the other side." A momentary pause, and she licked her lips. "But that doesn't make it any easier to do this."

"I never took you for the sentimental type, Commander." His tone was deep, and she wondered when she'd hear it again after this. It took a moment for her to realize he was attempting to make a joke, to put that dry wit of his to use. Maybe an attempt at comforting her. A frown turned into a chuckle.

"Yeah, neither did I. I guess being out of it did a number on me, huh?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

Her smile, faint but still there, stuck this time. It still hurt like hell to do it, but she was right. He was the only one who could do it. She had to believe. "Maybe after this is all done, we'll see how you do trying to wrangle a microwave."

That got a chuckle out of him, and it surprised her. It was like his voice, low and gravely, but something about it was comforting on its own. If he could laugh at a time like this, maybe she could unwind a little bit. "I think I'd like that."

"I think I would too. Someone taught me eventually, but I think I'd wanna see how you do on your own for a time."

"Awfully sadistic of you. I thought you had my back?" He looked down at her, and though she couldn't physically see it, she knew the smile was there.

"Anywhere but there, Chief. I'd follow you through Hell and out the other side, but kitchen appliances can get hotter than the seventh circle if you're not careful."

Another laugh shared between the two, and Morgan cut her eyes at Cortana just in time to see the AI smiling softly. She was about to say something else, but several lights came on in the bay, red lights indicating a launch was imminent as one of the loudspeakers transmitted.

"Prepare launch tube 3-A, magnetic array catapult standing by, calibrated for Gunship level launch. All relevant crew standby for sortie."

Their banter was cut short, and a pair of yellow vested deck crew stood on either side of the Pelican's rear bay. Morgan and John shared one last look, and he took Cortana's chip from the pedestal. She disappeared back into it, and it disappeared back into his helmet. Morgan could only walk him to the ramp, and the two crewmen gave him a salute. One spoke up.

"She's as good as we can get her, sir. Call came down from the bridge and we triple checked, loaded as much ammo in as would fit. Not a better bird in the fleet, far as I know."

The Chief returned the salute and nodded. "Thank you."

Morgan spoke up before either of them could say more. "A moment, please."

The two nodded and immediately stepped away. Word traveled fast, even on a ship this big. They knew what had happened, even if only bits and pieces.

He stepped onto the ramp and turned back to look at her. She moved to the side, where an external release waited for her. "Promise me you'll come back safe?"

He seemed to hesitate, but after a moment, he nodded again. Not just a shallow nod, an agreement, but a deeper one. One that was deliberate. "I promise."

"I'll hold you to it, then." Reaching out, she slapped the bay controls, and the ramp slowly started to come up. They stared each other down as it went up, almost agonizingly slowly, and then they were cut off. Their gaze held until the bay hissed and sealed, and he turned to go to the cockpit.

She stepped back, off of the pad it had rested on, and it sunk into the floor with the wailing of klaxons and crew members giving it a wide birth. She didn't back up any further, standing on the edge and looking down until the Pelican was shuttled forward and into the launch tube, the pad starting to rise and shutting it off.

"Tube 3-A, launch imminent. Standby."

The Pelican went through final checks in the bay, and almost as if she was afraid to say it, she opened a comms channel with him. It lit up with a green status light. The connection was perfect. No distortion, no loss of quality, crystal clear.

Morgan worried these might be her last words to her friend. "Be seeing you, John."

There was no response, and almost as if to put a period on her sentence, the deck rumbled as the Pelican was launched out and into the sky.

And she was left alone.

She frowned behind the visor that hid her emotions from the world, and part of her said to stay here, and that the Pelican might come back up if you wait long enough. They'll have finished the mission and they'll come home with us. But she knew it was a waste of time. There were still things that needed to be done, not just by the rest of Infinity, but her as well.

Clearing her throat, she opened a comm channel to the bridge, heading for the door that led back into the corridors of the ship. "Bridge, Crown Actual. The Master Chief is away. Proceed on exit course."

After a moment, Lasky responded to her. "Ship is in motion. Estimate 15 minutes on this track and we'll be out, assuming nothing tries to stop us."

"Good. Anything else pressing?"

"No, ma'am."

Her frown deepened slightly. "This is your ship, Tom. You know there's no need to call me ma'am."

His response was delayed, and it sounded quieter when he came back. "You have command authority with that message that Osman sent you."

"And I gave command of the ship to you. You're the XO, and with Del Rio gone, you're now the Captain. Isn't that how a chain of command works?

"Yes, but-"

"No buts. You're in command, end of story." She frowned a little harder, skirting past a group of mechanics as she made her way to the elevators. "I have my own things to run, and your job has changed very little. As far as we are both concerned, you're wearing the bird on your collar, not me. Am I clear?"

"Crystal."

Her tone softened slightly, and she tried to push some of her irritation away at having had to all but tell him that the ONI message no longer mattered now that her ace had been played. "Look, this doesn't change the dynamic. It doesn't change anything except that one person on the whole ship is no longer doing their job. You're command, I'll keep the Spartans in line, we'll finish this trip and see where things go from there."

This time, his response had returned to its natural level. "Got it. I'll ring if anything changes."

"Good. Out." With that, she cut the comms channel and stepped into one of the elevators, pressing the button for S Deck. It would be a short ride from here to there, and then a short tram ride to the central Spartan command location.

When she stepped back out into that long hallway full of Spartans, she drew several gazes, and again, her lips cut into a frown. Word indeed traveled fast, but there was no need to engage in anything that may or may not simply be rumor mill. Part of her hoped that her Spartans wouldn't either, but there was bound to be at least one gossip among the Olympians.

The command area was her next stop, and she went straight for her office, the door shutting behind her with a hiss and sealing her even further away from the rest of them. Her chair was her first companion, but her armor took away any of the softness. Unsealing her helmet, she set it on the desk, before something made her turn it around to face her.

It wasn't exactly like looking into a mirror, seeing herself in that golden reflection. Her natural color had been tinted heavily by it, and some of her image distorted as it passed over certain sections of the visor. She ran her thumb across it, slowly, as she had done all those years ago when it had been caked in dirt and grime, gore and ichor. A sigh escaped her as her frown deepened further. She still wore Mark VI, just as she had since she'd gone back to Earth.

The Chief wore Mark VI – or he had. Gen 2 wasn't the same, for plenty of reasons. She probably should have changed to the newer armor herself, but there was some sentimental value, wearing the same gear that she had brought down the Covenant and the Flood with.

With a start, she realized that sentimental value was something the Chief hadn't let himself be governed by. He'd discarded his old armor not because it was ruined, but because Gen 2 was likely just better. More advanced, newer. That likely meant better. Was it better? She had no idea. Reports had said that Gen 2 was limited in ways that would outright limit Spartan II personnel negatively compared to Gen 1, but there wasn't a large enough sample size to go off of, with most of them dead or gone after the war. Some had trickled back in the years since, but still, not exactly enough for proper testing.

Her hand fell away from the visor, and she sat back in her chair, letting the strength flow from her form as she looked back into that visor that mirrored her. She sat there for what seemed like hours, but was nowhere near even one. Maybe half an hour. She knew she heard Monsoon say that they had completed the transit through the roof, and the subsequent rumbling of the ship as it went to slipspace, but she said nothing.

There was no way she was turning the ship around now, no way of getting to them. Her hands were tied. All that was left now was to go back to Earth and hope that no massive ship showed up with an angry Didact at the helm, ready to wipe out all of the Humans there. Something told her, deep inside, that not even Infinity would be able to stand up against an ancient Forerunner warship.

But at this point, who knew? If something like that did show up, then it would mean that the Chief and Cortana had failed, in some way or another. She had to hope that they would succeed. They had to.

Another undetermined amount of time passed, and her door hissed open. There was no knock, no warning, nothing. No Spartan would have just barged in. Not even August. Instead of one of the hulking super soldiers in their power armor, a smaller woman clad in flight gear walked in, her boots loud against the deck.

"A little birdie told me that you were holed up in here." Amber Bailey looked back at her, green eyes meeting brown, and she waited for the door to hiss shut before she went on. "Give ya one guess as to who."

Morgan didn't smile, instead her frown deepening. "August?"

"Helen." Moving closer, the woman dropped into one of the two chairs on the other side of her desk, kicking her boots up and into the other chair before crossing her arms over her waist. "What's got you so sour?"

She got a deadpan tone in response. "Give ya one guess."

Amber frowned, her smooth features marred by stress lines that came into play when she let herself frown. "You've got a wider field to guess from, love. Rumor mill is already spinning at full speed. Every water cooler and scuttlebutt on the ship is whispering about it."

The bigger woman rolled her eyes, sighing as she leaned against her desk with both arms crossed on it, wanting to put her head down and close her eyes. Maybe it would all disappear?

Amber's frown deepened, and she stood up. Morgan heard the rustling of fabric, of two boots dropping to the floor loudly, and the steps as she came around the desk. A hand on her chest pushing against her would do nothing, but Morgan let herself be pushed back into a seated position.

The hand moved up to her chin, and Morgan was staring into her wife's eyes, the other woman not looking pleased by any means, but Amber had never been the strict, scolding type. She deftly slid into Morgan's lap, sitting with her legs to one side, and her arms came to wrap around the Spartan's neck before their foreheads met. Amber's eyes closed, and Morgan let her own follow. All they needed was the other's voice.

"Something's making you blame yourself again, isn't it?"

It was worded like a question, but the words were more a statement. Amber knew her wife well. This wasn't the first time it had happened. Morgan had a tendency to not just curl up on herself, but find ways to hide within her own form.

It took time, but Morgan hummed an affirmative, the deep sound rolling between them through their physical connection.

"And you're in here moping, like you used to?" Another hum. In the beginning, their home had many empty rooms. Sometimes, during her visits, Hocus had found the Spartan in a completely empty room, the lights on, laying in the floor with her eyes open. Many nights of coaxing her to bed had slowly pushed some of this away. It didn't happen anymore, but Amber knew the signs. Every room had since been filled. Office space for both of them, a weight area, an entertainment area for neighbors, and more. She'd seen to the empty spaces being done away with. "How long has it been since you last slept?"

"...I got some sleep on the Mammoth."

"So an hour or two, tops." Another hum. "You need to try and get some sleep, babe."

"Something tells me it won't be very restive."

A moment of thought, and Amber's eyes opened slightly to see Morgan's were still closed. "You were the one who ordered that bird out, weren't you?" A gentle nod. "And it had the Chief in it…" Another nod. Amber sighed softly, her grip tightening just a little. Enough for Morgan to notice. "I'm sorry, Morgan."

There was no sound. What was there to say? Would she say "It's fine, I just sent them to their deaths, more likely than not, after finding them again. No big deal." Of course not. She grieved inside, on her own. If she didn't, she might lash out. Amber didn't deserve that. Nobody did.

Amber spoke up again after a time, one of her hands coming back to settle on Morgan's cheek, her thumb gently brushing back and forth. She felt the Spartan lean into it slightly, silently asking for more. "I know you. You would have gone yourself if you could. You couldn't." Nothing. "You're still here because you have to be, and I know it hurts, love, but you can't sit here and let yourself go sliding down that hill again."

Morgan's eyes opened this time, looking back into Amber's with a frown on her face, her eyes almost pleading for a proper explanation. Something that absolved her of the sin she felt she'd committed. "I know, but it's… hard. It's hard to want to try and keep that facade up. I used to be… used to dealing with it. I'd shove it all down, and then-"

Amber cut her off. "Then the dam would break and I'd find you lying in an empty room with every light turned on." It wasn't admonishing, merely an assurance that Amber knew her wife. She knew her well. "But you know why we worked on it, right?"

Of course she knew. Morgan could never forget. Her vision might be clouded… but she would never forget. They were some of the hardest moments of her life. She'd never been trained to deal with her emotions, merely shove them down and let the next mission bury it completely. Her entire childhood had been training to fight, but she couldn't fight her emotions. Amber had spent many nights with her, breaking that corroded wall of hers down. It had taken that, and plenty of proper therapy, to even make any progress. Antidepressants weren't exactly made with Spartans in mind. Even experimental drugs had failed. But she knew that she had to give her an answer.

"Yes. Because you wanted me to be happy. You wanted me to feel normal." A swallow over a knot that was working its way into her throat. "You wanted what was best for me, even if it hurt like hell to get there."

Another reassuring press against her cheek that showed she'd gotten the answer right. "Mhm, and it never gets easier, really." She thought back to that evening in that bar, the day of the Voi Memorial Ceremony. The two had spent an hour or two drinking together before she'd had to carry Morgan to bed, almost. After that, there had been a few times where they'd agreed a drink would do them both some good, and those had been when Morgan had loosened up the most, had let loose some of that stress that threatened to spill over every day, whether she knew it or not.

The alcohol had done some good, though she'd forced herself to cut back in the years since as well despite her own demons. It helped that the war had ended, but she also worried about Morgan's possible overindulgence and any bad habits.

They sat there in silence for a time, eyes closed, Amber gently stroking Morgan's cheek, their arms around each other as they shared one of their first true intimate moments since the tour had started. Morgan didn't realize it, but it calmed her a lot more than she'd expected it to.

The silence broke after a while, and Morgan sighed. "I missed them."

There it was.

"Yeah?"

A nod. "I thought I'd never see them again. I can't explain how happy I was when I saw him, right there in front of me." A gentle smile came to her face as the memory flashed in her mind. "Cortana's rampancy really…" Her smile dropped into a light frown. "Really put a damper on the whole reunion."

"You think that they'll be able to fix her if they make it back?"

"I can only hope so."

"Then let's hope so, hm?" Amber met her wife's eyes again, another reassuring stroke of her thumb. That was enough to get the big Spartan to nod slightly, to agree with it as she let herself be lost in the feeling of smooth skin against her cheek. She had missed it terribly. They got maybe a half hour together during the day at most unless they went out of their way. It didn't leave much for any affection either, not with so many eyes.

Morgan spoke up again a moment later. "We might have to do this more often," she teased, her smile returning as she thought about it. She had grown so used to their time together that it had been like a cold slap in the face being forced away from each other by conflicting schedules so often.

Amber laughed, a low rumble that Morgan had fallen in love with almost immediately, though she hadn't known what the feeling was at the time. "Don't get me started, because you know I'll do it. Hocus pocus alakazam and all that, and then suddenly I'm here with no memory of how I got here."

That got a laugh from her wife, and they both sat in silence again, one more comfortable, not weighed down so badly. But all good things come to an end, and Morgan returned to business.

"We're headed back to Earth, ship'll need refit and repair to deal with the damage properly. Likely not have time if the Didact decides he's gonna pay us a visit. Keep it hush hush for now, just in case."

"Need to know basis?" A nod. "Aye, ma'am. But we've got how long until we get home?"

Morgan hummed. "Monsoon, how long until we make it back to Earth?"

The artificial voice filtered in almost immediately. "Estimated time to Earth arrival, 34 hours, ma'am."

"Thank you, Monsoon. That'll be all." The AI didn't respond, and Morgan went on. "I figure I will take the chance for a nap. Lasky can run the ship, and Crown can handle the Spartans. What do you have left?"

"Few spooling checks on the bird, an issue with one of the thruster pods. You know I like making sure my bird is working properly first hand. Gimme about an hour, hour and a half. Then I'll join you. Sound good?"

"Sounds great. I'll get rid of my armor and I'll meet you there."

"Perfect." Standing up, Amber let her hand remain on Morgan's cheek for a moment longer before pulling her chin up and leaning in. A moment later, and a kiss brought the two together. Amber held it for a few moments, the two savoring it for what it was worth, before their bridge was cut and they were two people again. "Don't wait up."

Morgan smiled, her cheeks turning a slight shade of red. "You know I'll always wait for you."

Another laugh from Amber, and she took a moment to rub her hand across Morgan's cheek before pulling away and heading to the door, her hips swaying from side to side teasingly. She had helped to stabilize Morgan, hopefully long enough for them to get back to Earth and let her bury herself more in the things that she'd taken comfort in over the years.

A moment later, and the door closed behind her, and Morgan was alone again, her mind immediately starting to wander, the woman zoning out. She allowed herself a few seconds of this before grabbing the helmet and going back down to S Deck. She kept it off, and made for one of the armor rigs. The techs that oversaw the Brokkr system of armor rigs, having seen the Commander in her armor almost the entirety of their time on Requiem, shared a glance as she went through the process of removing the heavy plating and bringing herself back down to the tech suit underneath.

When it was over, she took a moment to look at her helmet again, as it was taken by one of the machine arms, and she saw the golden visor again before it was taken out of her field of view. When the machine finally released her feet, she stepped out of it, back onto the deck. Some armor pieces remained in view, held by the armor ring, others retracted into the floor for maintenance guided by Monsoon on things like the power pack and major shield emitters.

She felt lighter, now that the armor was off, but she was still held in the almost comforting embrace of the tech suit. Spartans lived in their tech suits, after all. It was their uniform, and their pajamas, all in one. While unpowered, it would still allow some semblance of enhanced strength, but without the power pack, the suit wouldn't be amplifying much. As far as Morgan was concerned, it was just additional armor in case she had to deal with low caliber rounds.

Fat chance.

There wasn't much left to do now but head back to her quarters. Another call out to the ship's AI, and Monsoon sat waiting for her orders patiently. "Monsoon, inform Crown I'll be attempting to wind down a bit while we're in transit, and let the company commanders know they've got 34 hours to deal with any armor, personnel, or weapon issues. After that…" She frowned. What happened after that? As far as anybody on this ship knew, there was nothing to do except get back to Earth and go through a dozen debriefs for every new rung on the ladder you had climbed. Lasky and herself would be holed up for days trying to inform everybody that needed to know whatever needed to be known, and she'd have to personally be there when Osman ripped Del Rio a new one. But in terms of what happened after?

She had no clue.

Part of her said to stay ready, to stay armed and armored up just in case the worst case scenario happened. She'd long ago stopped counting the odds in regards to anything important. She'd never expected to see John or Cortana again, and they'd both just popped up, somehow, on the same planet as them. Whether John stopped the Didact or not, she had to be vigilant. That was the responsibility she'd taken when she'd come back to the fold.

"After that, business as usual, but maintain readiness, and a roster of Spartans to remain armed and armored in rotating shifts from each company. Wargames continue as often as we're able in order to maintain readiness in case something goes wrong."

"Yes, Commander."

That was all it took. Things had just been set in motion that would alter the readiness and operational tempo of every single Spartan on the ship, with just a handful of words. She would be getting some sleep, some actual down time for the first time since the ship had crash landed on Requiem. It had been just under 40 hours that they'd spent on that planet, and she'd slept maybe three of them, and half of the remainder in combat.

Another thought passed her mind as she stepped into one of the elevators, and she frowned. When she'd signed on, she had expected to stay on the ship and fly a desk, but she'd ended up in the thick of it again.

Could she really ever truly get away from this life? She'd been dragged back into it, half on account of Greer and Osman, and half of her own will. But she didn't hate it, did she? No. She'd been run ragged, half dead and unable to cope with the loss of everything she knew when it all stopped, had needed a break. She'd had her break though, years worth of it. Had felt her heart quicken at the prospect of it all again.

But she also remembered back when she'd been Ackerson's pet project, when she'd been supported as needed and alone, nobody to worry about or anything beyond the mission at hand to fill her mind. Years disappeared under that veil. Everything blended together.

In a way, she missed that. But at the same time, she was used to fighting alongside others now. If she had to go back in time, and take away the pieces of the puzzle that had made her what she was now, would she?

The elevator doors hissed open, and for a few seconds, she didn't even realize she had come to her stop. With a start, she came back to the world, frowning. The door started to close on her, and her hand raised to hold it at bay.

Stepping out, she shook her head, her frown plastered in place. She couldn't let herself get lost in her mind again. The sooner she got some sleep, the better things would be.

Right?

Her quarters weren't far, and her legs ate up the distance in large chunks. When they came into view, she mentally sighed in relief, and disappeared inside.

The place was empty. Amber hadn't made it yet, but hopefully wasn't far behind. She quickly made for the bedroom. It didn't take long to make her way out of the tech suit, leaving it in the floor. It was like a second skin, but she didn't want a second skin right now. It would get in the way.

She changed into a flexible pair of shorts and a top with no sleeves. She had purposely bought massive clothes to sleep in, easy to slip off and back into her techsuit if anything happened. The thought passed her mind a moment later that she no longer really yearned for the skin tight embrace. Years of wearing armor made that like being naked. Years of bringing down that armor meant that it wasn't as necessary anymore.

Lying back on her bed, she sprawled out, arms and legs taking up most of the bed. She stared at the ceiling, her frown creeping back into place. Why was her mind wandering so much now, bringing back so many dark lines of thought? Maybe it was the Master Chief's sudden return, and just as sudden departure.

He had been a brick in the wall of her mind since she had lost him. Damaged, but cemented and shored up. She'd come to terms with it years ago, and now the scar had been ripped off and reopened. He wasn't… a relic, but in a way, he was a reminder of her old life. Before she'd met Amber, before she'd had a normal life, before she had ever thought that she'd survive to the end.

Another image came to mind. Her home, a small meeting between friends in the back yard. Kris and her husband, Amber nursing another beer and making flirty advances on her wife, and someone else. Someone bigger, more scarred up, and overall looking like someone who shouldn't even be there, but he was smiling, sitting back and relaxing.

Without realizing it, the corners of her mouth had turned up into a faint smile. It was a nice thought, seeing John as more than just the Master Chief. Seeing him as just another person was something that she hoped she could experience, maybe after this was all done. Maybe she could help him live a normal life, just like she had learned how to.

Her mind started racing, imagining all the scenarios that she had laughed about with Amber when she was going through them. Would they be just as funny watching John struggle with a vacuum cleaner, or asking her the same questions she'd asked in the beginning?

She hoped they would. Part of her screamed not to think these things, not to get her hopes up in case they got smashed down the line, but she ignored it. She'd spent too much time listening to her instincts. Now? She wanted to dream. She wanted to think the best case scenario was possible. It had been for her. So she pushed those thoughts away, and let herself take in the image of John watching one of those terrible movies she'd enjoyed.

He deserved to laugh, to live, to relax. She hoped that was what life let him do.


The door opening grabbed her attention. She had dozed off at some point, and now she was wide awake, sitting up on the bed and spotting Hocus stepping inside, shrugging out of her flight suit by unzipping it and pulling her arms out of the sleeves.

"Caught you napping, huh?" She asked, that trademark smirk on her face.

"Only a little bit." Morgan scooted over to her side of the bed, no longer taking the full thing up.

"Some is better than none. Sorry for taking so long." She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her hair out of the tight bun it was in and taking her boots off before removing the flight suit entirely and tossing it to the floor, leaving her in a tshirt and elastic shorts.

That was all Morgan needed, her arm wrapping around her wife's waist and pulling her down into the bed, immediately closing the distance. "I don't mind waiting."

Amber yelped as she was brought down, giving a look over her shoulder. "That so? You seem to be in quite a hurry now."

"Make the most of the time we have, right?"

"True."

"When's your next shift?"

Amber hummed after a moment, thinking it over. "I just did an 18, so I've got some time before I go back."

Morgan nodded, taking the information in before pressing her nose to Amber's neck, inhaling the scent of her. It was tinged with oil and burned fuel, but she could still detect the deodorant and body wash left over, barely there, and the scent of lavender mixed in. Amber's hand came up, resting on Morgan's cheek as she smiled and leaned back into the embrace.

It was moments like these that she had grown addicted to very quickly over the years. Slow, tender, loving. Things a Spartan wasn't built for, but Morgan had made it work. She was an impeccable soldier, her heart rate rarely ever rising above a cool 60.

But when Amber came into the picture, her heart always felt like it was skipping beats, beating faster, or sometimes stopping. The feeling of butterflies had never faded. Every new smile, every witty half-remark, every compliment, all of them made Morgan melt.

These moments were always precious to her, regardless of whether it was something big or small.

One of Morgan's hands came up and around her wife's chest, feeling around until she felt what she was looking for. A thin chain necklace that held Amber's dog tags. A moment longer of feeling, and she felt the thin gold band that hung off of the chain.

Her wedding ring.

Morgan's eyes closed completely, and she relaxed at the thought, simply moving it between her fingers. Morgan's real ring had been left at home, hidden inside of her safe. She had reasoned that there was no need to bring it when it would spend most of its time locked away in a dresser anyway. Now, they both wore smaller rubber bands that mimicked a wedding band, just in case, but Amber had kept hers close by, a way of keeping Morgan with her wherever she might be.

Both of them had a pale white ring around their left ring fingers. In the beginning, Morgan had questioned the need for a ring at all. Amber hadn't pushed it, but they'd spent plenty of time talking it over once their relationship had reached that level. Morgan hadn't been sure of what to do, or the sentiments behind it, but remembering Jorge's and Emile's dog tags hanging off of her dog tags, it had started to make sense.

Amber had been plenty fine with something small that was cheap, but sentimental. Morgan had instead gotten one for both of them, each having the other's service number on it. Amber had laughed when she'd seen it, but it had been of joy, rather than mockery. Nodding over and over, repeating yes, and letting the Spartan put a ring on her finger.

The rest was history.

Morgan was broken from her musings by her wife's voice. "You could do the same, y'know. You keep this up and you'll wear it down from all your touching."

Morgan hummed, shaking her head slightly without opening her eyes. "It'd get in the way of the tech suit and armor."

"Fair enough, but still. We'll have to find something to replace your ring until we get home."

"Like what?"

"Hell if I know… But we'll figure it out." Amber put her hand on Morgan's, gently running her fingers back and forth over the back of the Spartan's hand. "I saw the picture you had of me in your office."

Morgan's lips turned up in a smile, and a laugh barely managed to escape, sounding like a cough. "You did?"

"I wondered why Monsoon did that shit. That's not my most flattering picture."

"You're beautiful no matter what to me."

She could almost feel Amber rolling her eyes. "Kiss ass…" She said it like she was annoyed, but Morgan knew she was smiling.

She'd count that as a victory for now.

There wasn't any more talking between the two of them, simply content to relax in the other's presence until duty called once again. If it was up to Morgan, they'd stay like this forever, wrapped in each other's arms until every star burned out. That wasn't such a bad life.

Eventually, the pair was fast asleep, still tangled among each other's arms and legs, but more than comfortable after getting to sleep properly for the first time in what seemed like years.

It was a nice ending to an otherwise terrible day.