New Alexandria, Reach

November 15, 2557

Austal's camo shimmered as he crept up to the target. Invisible to most eyes, the darkness really negated any real use of the armor ability, but he had activated it nonetheless. It gave him an assured feeling that he had another cushion of stealth against his enemies.

"And if the Spartan is in the area, we need heavier firepower."

He recognized the voice, Gustafson.

There was no way he was going to allow the bastard to get powerful weapons to threaten Spartans. Nobody ever messed with them and those that did only were rewarded with death, the type and painfulness dependent on what they had done in the first place.

Marcus jumped forward, throwing his knife into the back of Gustafson's henchman's head. As he fell, he grabbed ahold of the terrorist's arms in a nelson hold.

"Die you Spartan son of a bitch!"

Gustafson squirmed around, causing Austal to end up facing him. A sweep of the legs felled him onto the floor.

Marcus kept his arms pinned by an arm of his own and he retrieved the knife, blade blood soaked from the earlier kill. He put the handle in his left hand and swung it down, aiming straight for Gustafson's neck.

He caught it mid-thrust, with surprising resistance. Austal realized he wasn't wearing MJOLNIR armor at all. Still, that didn't make sense.

Gustafson forced the knife away, skittering across the floor. Marcus then decided to starve him of oxygen. He placed himself in between him and the floor and firmly clamped his hand straight around the mouth. The two continued to struggle as he tried to speak through his shut mouth.

All of a sudden, Austal heard him let out another cry of struggle. This time it was a woman's.

What?!

Marcus' eyes snapped open. The entire apartment was dark, save for the nightlight in the kitchen and the glowing holographic display of the time, four thirty two in the morning.

The feminine sounds came from the person on top of him. Gabrielle was trying to break out of his grip.

He was strangling her! One hand was on her mouth, preventing her from saying anything and the other was wrapped around her midsection and pinned her arms down.

Quickly, he released his death hold, flipping them over on the couch so that he was now on top. Her face was barely illuminated by the small amount of lights, but he could easily tell she was very fearful. The sides of her eyes seemed a wet with tears and her breathing had become irregular.

"Marcus." She whispered.

He stared into her eyes in a calm manner, "It's okay."

She nodded and pulled him down so that he was now to her side again, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. What happened?"

Marcus rubbed his head, "Just a memory dream. I'm so sorry. I just…..felt so vivid that I was on an op." He gave a sad smile, "I was fighting my target…got him in a choke hold. Only the target was you."

"Please don't beat yourself up over it Marcus." Gabrielle pleaded, "It's not right."

"I know. But I just hurt you because of it and who knows who else I've been doing this to? I can sleep fine, but I don't want to hurt you because of it."

"Things happen alright?" She put a hand on his shoulder, "It's on you if you're going to dwell in your shit or find a way to stop it."

Marcus nodded, and then suddenly grinned as if he realized something, "Did you just curse?"

"Wha?"

"You know, I've never heard you curse before."

"Have you seen me at work?"

Marcus chuckled softy, the matter all put aside over a briefly intimate conversation, "I guess there's a first for everything."

"Yeah. C'mon, I'm still tired." She lay back down on the wide couch, "I feel like sleeping all day."

Austal lay at her side and turned her around so that she faced him and was leaning into his chest, "For once, I concur."

"You know," She murmured sleepily, "You're surprisingly good at cuddling."

"If it pleases you to know, I have no prior experience." He had to hand it to her for sleeping in his arms despite him putting a death choke in action of a fast-paced dream to subdue the man who assassinated his parents.

This time, his dreaming did not involve any sort of fighting whatsoever.

The next morning, Austal awoke at seven thirty, usually ninety minutes past his normal wakeup time. At the base, he would usually do a morning workout and then eat a light breakfast before heading off to 37th SSD duties.

Today, he simply went to a local gym that he had a membership at and did his reps for ninety minutes. He was now used to people starting at him in complete awe as he set some of the weight machines to maximum and easily did more than twenty reps without even the slightest sign of effort. In all honesty, Tyrant was away and had sent all the fireteams on leave saying that he had matters to attend to. Something was up, especially with losing Jaguar in the process. At the 37th, he could set practice War Games against Hades, the divisional AI, who would set up opponents for the Spartan to take down.

He had brought along a new straplike pad that he would wrap around his back and set various weights inside. Eventually, he was on a mat in one of the gym's open floors doing pushups with nearly one hundred and sixty pounds inside. Sit-ups were next.

As much masochism as that sounded, it was essential for the Spartans to stay in the best shape possible and his weight preferences were much less than some of the older and stronger Spartan-IVs.

Just when he had finished and begun drying his body with a towel in the shower, his comlink got a text message. It was from his beautiful girlfriend.

Hi. When are you coming back?

He threw on his clothes and thumbed a reply.

I just got done with my daily workout. Was headed to the store. Everything ok?

Yes. I'm just not feeling well.

Alright. I'll be quick.

Weird. Was it the food they had last night? If it was, then there was a chance he might be sick too. However, his augmentations might have killed the sickness before it even had a chance to spread. Her immune system was weaker than his in this aspect.

Austal unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside.

Gabrielle was lying on the couch. Her skin was quite pale…much paler than what he usually saw. Her normal fullness of hair was now disheveled and spread wide all over the pillor. Sweat was beading on the forehead. A heat and cooling pad she had prepared earlier had no effects at suppressing her ills. It didn't help that her muscles were sore all over.

He moved to her side and watched as she moved only her head to look at him. She smiled weakly.

"You ok?" He asked.

"Yeah." She sounded weak too and although this was the first time he saw her sick, he hated it. It just wasn't her.

"You certainly don't look okay. Want me to take you to the doctor?"

"Then why did you ask?" Even though in her current state, parts of her unique personality still remained.

"Because, I was wondering if you had any knowledge about it."

"I…" Her next words were suddenly halted by intense coughing. Luckily, manners had kicked in and she put an elbow in front of her mouth. He heard something liquid trying to escape inside her, but nothing happened. She suddenly stopped, her eyes looking over at him and telling him everything.

Without warning, he sprinted off.

Marcus grabbed and thrust the bucket right in front of his face, trying to fight the nausea himself by turning his head away from her.

A split second later, he heard the sound of bile hitting the bucket bottom.

Oh great. She's sick! It's probably the flu...right? Could it be something else?

Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.