Ian, like most children who grew up in southern Africa or the colonies that were inhabited by their fauna, heard stories of what lions were capable of, a sort of boogy man to fear or watch for when you left the safety of the house and the watchful eyes of your parents. He had never taken the warnings seriously, seeing them as large cats with the knowledge that attacks on humans were rare. But one day when he was 10 years old, he watched his father, covered in blood with pieces of flesh nearly torn off his shoulder, stumble out of a truck as he cursed a storm. As his uncle and mother panicked in a rush to get him airlifted to the nearest hospital, he remembered the unbothered grin across his father's face as he held the chunks of his mangled flesh and muscle in place.

"Never try to take a lion boy, unless you want some good-looking scars."

After his recovery and a few months of physical therapy, few things gave Albert Walls as much pride as taking off his shirt to reveal the marble streaks across his left shoulder. In retrospect, Ian should have realized the men of the Walls family had little luck against the most powerful animal on the savanna.

"Jesus!"

He cursed as the lion tackled him, its massive jaws trying to clamp on his neck. He used his R1 as a sort of polearm, blocking the animal's mouth in a desperate attempt to protect himself. The snarling rage of the animal was enough to unnerve even the most solid of men, let alone him, and it took every bit of his battered psyche to not break down and open himself to attack. He suddenly thought of Ellen, and looked back to see her in the grass, aiming right at the beasts head.

"DON'T KILL IT!" Ian roared over the lions fury.

"What?" she said, utterly confused.

"Don't kill it, just give it a warning shot! Close to the head!"

She complied without a thought, firing a 7.62mm round right past its ear. The lion stopped and looked up at her, stunned by the sudden action before it released Ian and ran off into the brush.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, dusting himself off as he stood. He looked around, trying to see if the animal had come back for seconds. Satisfied, he turned to Ellen with a thumbs up.

"Nice save."

He put his hand away upon seeing her grim visage.

"Are you an idiot?" she asked, a twinge of anger in her voice.

"Yes. Now, we need to get the hell out of here before he comes back."

She grumbled as he led her through the brush, heading back towards the path and the oak tree. Luckily, he had taken no damage or injury from the lion, even his R1 seeming to be in decent condition.

"Are we going to be safe?"

"We should, but I did say that lions don't normally attack people, so I can be wrong. My bad."

"Apology accepted. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I ever tell you my dad got attacked by one?"

"No. Didn't he teach you anything about them?"

"Other than they're big, scary and can tear your head off? He probably thought I was smart enough to not get jumped by one."

He kept his rifle at the ready, the Spartan doing the same.

"Why wouldn't you let me kill it?"

"Because it's a creature that's done no wrong."

"It tried to kill you."

"So have most things in this miserable galaxy. Keep moving."

The pair moved cautiously, following the path they came on. Thankfully, Ians knowledge and Ellens superior memory of the terrain made it easy to find themselves back on the path. They both were well aware of what possibly lurked in the shadows, trying to stay quiet while moving quickly.

"Ian, it's getting old how often I've had to come and save you."

"Shove it, this isn't me getting surrounded by Covies, this is different."

"At least I was allowed to kill them."

"For Christs sake- they were trying to kill me out of duty, they made the conscious decision to do so."

"So did the Lion! Ian, if it's willing to attack people, that means it's a damn threat. Stop trying to defend it!"

"It's just an innocent animal, it doesn't know right and wrong."

Unbeknownst to Ian, Ellen was preparing to either slap or punch him back into sense, annoyed at the excuses he was making and his inability to… kill it. She relaxed a bit, her mind suddenly twisting and turning as she tried to determine if she was angry at not being allowed to kill, or because she was not allowed to protect him.

Protect him. The words rolled around for a moment or two, causing her more than a little confusion. She had always kept him safe, that was true, but it was always for the mission, for the team, for the unit. But this was different, she felt the need to bring him home safely more than ever, for reasons she could not fathom or understand. That she could not decide it was beyond irritating to her, a feeling of knowing the answer but unable to name it. Gritting her teeth in frustration and more than a little bit of anxiety, Ellen realized that the only thing she had to focus on was getting home in one piece.

"One less lion won't hurt anything," the Spartan said absentmindedly.

To her shock, he stopped in his tracks and wheeled around to face her.

"You don't get it, do you? They're special animals, rarer than rare. To have one here means that it thinks it's safe enough to hunt. I'm not getting rid of it, and I will be damned if you think you can just kill whatever you want!"

"Isn't that why we went hunting?"

"That… you don't hunt a lion. That's bloody stupid."

"Then why did we bother coming out here? Why waste our time if you think that we can't just go and kill what we want?"

"It's because I wanted to just talk to you! Goddammit, I spilled my heart and soul to you and now you're arguing with me about the whole point of being here. I even proved you aren't a mindless killer! You know what, maybe I just wanted to waste our time. Who cares? I don't! I spent three years with you, so what's a bit more time being stuck together?"

He was breathing deeply, almost as if he had exerted more force than he wanted to in confronting her.

"What are you saying?"

"I don't bloody know. Hell, I might be talking out my ass. Maybe getting attacked by a bloody lion made me all discombobulated or whatever. Everything's been such a bloody mess these last few weeks I can't see heads or tails of goddamn-"

Ellen watched his face go blank as suddenly as he snapped at her. Confused, she was about to ask what was wrong before two hands grabbed at her shoulders. Even her quick reflexes and response time did not figure out what was going on until she was flat on her back, the only thing filling her sight a golden, furry blur. Then her ears were filled with the sounds of screaming.

XXXXXX

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"Look, the wars over and we won, but the next decades already shaping up to be a disaster. Covie remnants all over the place, the biggest refugee and resettlement crisis in human history, trying to recover the lost colonies, and that's before we even think about the Insurrection rising up again."

She looked out into the ruins of Sydney, the familiar clamshells of the Opera House sticking out like bleached bones around the wreckage of what was once Australia's finest city, trying to ignore the discomfort of the dress uniform. Though the city had taken a hell of a pounding, Highcom Facility Bravo-6, the de facto headquarters of the UNSC, was unscathed. Looking out from the structure, she quietly wondered if the Covenant had a twisted sense of humor.

"074?"

She turned back to the rear-admiral, an unknown paper-pusher whose ability to command or damaging incompetence sent him upstairs to manage the Spartan programs personnel in its current form. She couldn't even remember his name.

"That's bullshit and you know it! Er, sir." Captain Martin Hess said, trying to make his outrage more polite and professional.

Hess had become her commander in the weeks after her recovery from Kenya, mostly debriefing and trying to figure out where they needed her next. But then she broached the question of moving to the reserves, and to his credit, despite the sudden and rather startling request, he took it completely seriously. She was unsure if he did it out of duty, or fear what she would do in reaction to a refusal.

"Look, I won't argue having another Spartan in reserve would be a good thing, but we need as many of you in the force as possible, especially considering you're rarer than ever."

She frowned and turned back to the admiral, as confused as she was frustrated by his response.

"What do you mean? My gen's still at half strength, and the III's still must be in the tens of thousands."

The admiral looked nervously at the captain, wondering if he was cleared for any information about the program. Determining that he was, he sighed and rubbed gnarled fingers on his wrinkled forehead.

"I take it you lost comms after Reach?"

"I was sent to Earth the day they declared Winter Contingency."

"Well… there's around 20 to 25 of you left."

She stared at him, her face showing disbelief as her heart slammed into her feet.

"No!" she gasped, a rare show of extreme emotion.

"Unfortunately, it's true, petty officer. A quarter of the program went MIA trying to save Reach. The Spartan-III casualties are… atrocious. And even if the next stage turns out to work, we'll need as many as we can before we can get to consistent manpower levels."

She would have asked about what he meant by the next stage, but the news stunned her. She sat in one of the office chairs and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down and collect herself.

"Look, I get it. I never thought I'd see it from a Spartan of course, but I understand wanting to get out of the front lines. But we need you now. We need as many men and women than ever. This peace could collapse at any minute, and we can't be caught slacking. I don't even think that they would allow you to leave at this point."

Captain Hess crossed his arms and tapped his foot in disappointment before looking at her. He could tell she was more focused on processing her comrades' fate and decided to speak for her, whether she liked it or not.

"Would high command deny any attempt by her to do so?"

"Well… knowing them, they would have to say there was some sort of precedent. And though there technically is one, I think they would deny it because of its rarity."

Before her or Hess could respond, the door opened, a new female entering the room.

"Actually admiral, it's a precedent, not technically whatsoever."

She perked up at the new voice, standing and looking at the new arrival to be sure if it was true or not.

"Maria?"

"Ellie! You look great! Well, except for the dress whites, but we can't fix everything."

The raven black short hair and brown skinned Spartan embraced her warmly, laughing as she did so, contrast to the baffled look on Captain Hess and the admiral's grim frown.

"Spartan-062. What an unpleasant surprise."

"It's Maria, sir. And I would hate to be unpleasant."

"Well, barging into my office in the middle of a meeting is hardly welcome. And may I ask what brings you in here?"

"When I heard a fellow Spartan was trying to join the reserves, I thought it was odd that I, the first one to do it with success, was not invited to the meeting. I wanted to inform you that I have already gotten her paperwork to move to the reserves approved and will be her caretaker during the process."

The three looked at her, trying to process what she just said.

"I beg your pardon 062?"

"Eleanor here is moving to the reserves, and I am here to inform you all. I apologize for going over your head, Captain Hess, but I think I can get the ball rolling more than you can."

Hess simply shrugged and extended a hand to her.

"I guess you're no longer mine, petty officer. Best of luck."

"W-well you can't just walk out of here without my approv-"

A pile of paperwork flopped on his desk, much to the admirals dismay and fury.

"It's being handled sir. Now, I want to get Eleanor out of here and talk to her for a little bit."

Spluttering in anger and disbelief, he was unable to stop the three from leaving his office, despite it violating every UNSC protocol. The captain nodded and rushed off before the admiral could catch him as the two Spartans squeezed into an elevator.

"Did you actually get me in the reserves?"

Maria looked at her in pain, almost insulted.

"Ye of little faith. Of course I did Ellie, you think I would bother that miserable admiral if I hadn't?"

"You've done much worse."

"True. But it's going to take a bit to move you from the Navy to the reserves, and you'll have to stay on Earth."

"Barracks? Ship?"

"Nope. They don't give you that, believe me. So… you'll be staying with me."

She looked at Maria in surprise.

"Are… you sure?"

"Of course! You think I wouldn't help a fellow Spartan? The kids not much of a hassle, and the hubby won't mind. He can't fight me at least."

"I mean, I'd think so."

"Well, he just got back from the hospital last night."

"Oh no! What happened?"

Marias face turned a bit red as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Er… pelvic fractures."

"Maria!" she said disappointedly.

"I uh… look, that suppression they gave us, if it gives out you may be a menace. Just warning you."

"What would I need a warning for?"

"When you move in with that Ian guy, you might want to know."

She turned to her in a flash of anger.

"What-how-"

"I read where you wanted to go. I had to look into who you were moving in with. He seems like a good catch."

"He's not a catch. He's a friend."

"Whatever," Maria said playfully as the door opened to the lobby. "I can give you tips. I have a bit of experience."

She rolled her eyes as she walked out. A few glances or glares as they moved outside followed, as to be expected. But soon they were in front of a civilian car, Maria nearly leaping into the driver's seat.

"C'mon!"

"You live here?"

"Oh hell no, we're in the bush on the outskirts. This city sucked even before the Covies levelled it"

Getting in, she realized she had left her belongings in the-

"Already got them."

"You're too smart for your own good."

"My man says that too."

As they drove onto a road under repair, she finally asked the question.

"Who's still around?"

Marias face sank a little as she asked that.

"Blue Teams, except for John, as you probably know. Fred was the only one to get off of Reach after the Pillar of Autumn escaped. It was… bad. Black Team made it. Me, obviously, and you. And about ten others. At least we won, right?"

The two sat in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again.

"Maria… let's say I wanted some tips."

The other Spartan nearly squealed in delight at the suggestion.

XXXXXX

His chest hurt. More than that bullet that punched the magazine into him the week before, more than any pain in his life. He grimaced as he moved a hand over his chest, realizing his shirt was gone and the sticky residue of Biofoam across the most painful areas.

"Son of a bitch," he grunted, resting his head back down on what seemed to be a pillow.

"Ian!" He heard a voice gasp next to him.

"God, what the hell happened?"

"The lion ambushed me. It got you instead."

"Oh. Great. Didn't kill me, I noticed."

"It got you pretty good, but I pulled him off you and got you over here."

He realized that his face was being shaded from the sun before he recognized the distinctive leaves of oak.

"Bloody hell, how'd you find your way back?"

"Do you really think I'm that incompetent to not remember my way back?"

"No. What happened to the goddamn cat?"

"I got him to run off. I didn't kill him like you asked."

"Shame. Given how much this goddamn hurts, I would've been fine with you doing that. Good call on bringing the Biofoam."

"It didn't cause any permanent damage, but you did pass out. Shock probably."

"Yeah."

He felt his hand trying to orient himself, realizing he was near the tree's trunk. Pulling himself up to put his back against it, he grunted in agony as he saw her sitting close by.

"Damn. Where's my shirt?"

"Shredded. Don't worry, I'm not shy seeing you half-naked."

"Honored. Are you alright?"

"Yes."

He suddenly realized that she was either upset or angry, judging by her body language and her voice.

"What's wrong? I'm sorry I didn't think about lions being out here. Maybe I should have-"

"I'm supposed to be the one protecting you."

He blinked in surprise at the statement.

"Huh?"

"This is what, the fifth time you've saved me? It's not supposed to be like that."

"And you've saved my arse more times than I can count, what the hell's your point?"

"You shouldn't be risking your life for me. You can't do what I do. And I can get myself out of messes."

"Bullshit, I can handle myself. And if you're in trouble I'm coming to help you, whether you like it or not."

"I don't! You've gotten hurt enough for me, you don't need to take risks anymore!"

He blanched at her rising voice, but felt he had to respond.

"So what? You're my goddamn friend, and your life was worth more than mine ever was, let's be real. And whatever you-"

He stopped and hit the back of his head on the tree trunk.

"Criterion. You're still mad over that?"

She stood up and looked down on him, her towering height might have frightened or unnerved any other man, but not him.

"Of course I am! You nearly got killed over trying to help me! It's why I'm here."

"What?"

"Ian, I feel... guilty. Every time I look at your face, I still feel like I screwed up, or you didn't deserve it. I came here because I felt like I had to make up for getting you hurt."

"It was worth it," he retorted.

"I was fine."

"No you weren't, you sent that distress signal for a reason, and intel figured out pretty quick that you were up to your neck in Elites. You wouldn't have lasted much longer out there, I couldn't just sit around and let that happen."

"You shouldn't have bothered, I could have-"

"Jesus-no you wouldn't have! You'd have died if we hadn't dropped to help you!"

"You should have let me die then!"

Ian's eyes bore deep into hers after she said it, a mix of anger and surprise that she would even say such a thing.

"What?" he hissed.

"I'm a Spartan. We're better, stronger, able to take more of a hit than anyone else could. But I made a mistake, and I deserved to pay for it. It's not fair for you and the others you dropped in with to get killed or hurt for my screw-up. It's not right."

"Who gives a shit about whether it's right or not, I wasn't leaving you behind! And every light infantryman that leapt with me would give their lives a hundred times over because a Spartans worth a whole regiment, maybe a few!"

"You got hurt, it's my fault, and-and-"

She walked towards him, thrusting her fist into the firm bark. She pulled her cut and bleeding hand away, holding it as she looked at the sizeable dent in the side of the tree.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, whether from the pain or seeking forgiveness, neither was sure.

He looked at her for a few moments and shook his head.

"Not necessary. Did you really come all the way out here and spend all this time with me just to apologize?"

"No, and I could have just said that but-there were other things I wanted to say."

She sprayed foam on her hand, healing it quickly before looking back at him.

"Ian, I..."

She stopped herself and took a deep breath.

"I care about you. A lot. And I felt awful that you got hurt because of me."

He looked at her, his face frozen in shock. He slowly sat down, back against the tree like before.

"It's hard to say that already for most people, but for someone like me? I-I don't feel the same way with other people as I do with you. Even the other Spartans, and I care deeply for all of them, don't..."

She sighed, tripping or struggling over the words, or how to say them.

"I've lived longer than you think. I've seen and done some terrible things in my life, some I'm ashamed of. Most people were afraid of me. The ones that weren't just saw me as a living weapon and treated me with the same amount of indifference as an assault rifle. And that was just how it was for a long time. When I was attached to Marines, they would respect me but keep their distance. So, imagine how I felt when one day, someone came up to me on their own and said they were happy I was there. And then spending three years with them, and never once did they ever act like they were anything but another person. You... treated me like a human being. That hasn't happened in a long time. And that meant a lot to me."

She looked out into the grass and rubbed her face, about to collapse from the sheer embarrassment of admitting such things.

"I know, given our reputation and our... deficiencies in the moral and emotional departments that I'm not exactly the best to be with, and I may not be extremely passionate, but I know that I want to be with you. I feel better when I'm here. I don't know what to say or how to, but I want to ask if you... care about me too."

Ian's face was blank, looking out at the nature around him. She waited a few moments for a response and realized that she may have overstepped and scared him away. She was hoping that would not be the case but was prepared and understanding for her rejection. She was about to ask if he was ready to head home when he turned his head and looked her in the eyes.

"I love you Ellen," he said flatly.

XXXXXX

It was one of those sudden downpours that were dreaded by the colonists, but he barely noticed as all he heard was a broken click. Sweat was rolling down his brow, his cheeks crusty from dried tears. He lowered the Browning Hi Power from his temple and looked at it in grim silence before pressing the magazine release. Checking the twelve 9mm bullets inside before pulling the slide back, the last one flew out and landed on top of the note left on the passenger seat. It had never failed him before, and the one time it did...

He looked out at the rain, turning the dirt roads to mud before disassembling the pistol. Soon it was stripped bare, wondering what had gone wrong. Then, as if in answer, the firing pin, broken at the end in two places, fell on the floorboard of the Spade. It was damn near impossible to break something like that, especially with the maintenance program he forced himself to constantly follow. Was it a sign? He looked at the bullet, then at the datapad. The therapist was supposed to help, give peace of mind, but it only made things worse. It was hard losing dad, only able to talk for an hour before his body gave out, having rushed from the battlefield to Dzimba as fast as possible. Mum was sure he only held out long enough to say goodbye. He had gotten over the worst of the pain quickly, knowing dad would have wanted him to re-focus and move on for the DLI, but the grief was an open wound even a year or so afterwards. But then the shrink started talking to him about Ellen.

"Christ," he sniffled, the tears coming back.

He never got a chance to say goodbye, and it broke his heart. That was one thing. But then the war ended, and he found out her status was MIA, and that one was just too much for him. He was not sure at the time why he did it, but the therapist's visit finally spelled it out for him: she was the only woman he ever genuinely cared about, and now she was dead. He would never talk to her again, say what he wanted, anything. That was it, the final limit, between the unending nightmares of Elites around every corner, the faces of dead friends in the corner of his eye, the anger at being back on Dzimba but never feeling like he was truly home.

So, he drove out to the middle of nowhere, wrote three paragraphs on a piece of paper, and decided it was time to finish it.

He was never a good Anglican like mum wanted, but he was faithful. Unfortunately, not enough to stop committing one of the worst sins imaginable, but still. He wondered if it was a sign from somewhere or someone that the pistol failed next to his temple. He knocked his head on the seat and closed his eyes before realizing that it must have happened for a reason. He picked up the bullet that would have ended him and stared at it for a good minute or two before squeezing it in his hand. There was a reason, higher power or not, and he was still here for someone or something. Maybe... maybe she was still out there. Crazier things had happened. He slid the bullet in his pocket before grabbing the note and throwing it into the rain. He was still alive, for better or worse, and it was looking to stay that way.

XXXXXX

They stared at each other in silence before Ian sighed and swallowed, feeling like a rock was stuck in his throat.

"I spent three years praying to God that if Ian Walls wouldn't make it, at least Eleanor-074 would. When you got whisked away to Earth and all I got to say was a quick handwave as that Pelican left the Ojibwe, I spent two days in my room, not wanting to do anything. Just sat there in the dark, wishing I could have said something or made a proper goodbye. I spent two or three months wondering if you were alright as we fought through that mess on Persepolis. Then I checked your status on the systems when we got back and-"

He gritted his teeth and looked at the ground.

"Spent two weeks doing nothing but getting blackout drunk. Told myself it was celebrating the end of the war, surviving everything, but I think it was just all of it hitting me at once. Then I got home and…"

He rubbed his cheek, unable to look at her.

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

"I… I spent six months, living on a hope and dream that you were ok, that you'd call and let me know you were alright. Nothing. I started giving up honestly. It was just a dumb dream. Then…"

He waved his hand dismissively.

"You didn't seem all that surprised when I showed up," she said flatly.

He chuckled, but it turned into a tearful sniffle.

"Because I didn't think it was real. I thought I was just dreaming and about to wake up. Waiting for you, and then you just show up out of nowhere. I couldn't believe it," he said, swallowing hard again, trying to keep his emotions in check. "Remember when your door kept opening the first night you were here?"

"You fixed it."

"There was nothing to fix. It was me. I kept waking up every few hours to check if you were still there. I just couldn't believe it."

He laughed, fighting through the pain as he wiped a few tears away before he stood up, still unable to face her.

"You think you feel stupid being honest? I could run out to Selous, New Harare, hell, go back to Earth and pick up any woman I wanted, you know that. But the only one I ever thought about, the only one I regretted not talking more to, the only one I really wanted to have around, was you. A bloody 7-foot tall, emotionally stunted super-soldier. How messed up is that?"

He wiped a few more tears away before looking at her. She showed little emotion, but that was no surprise. It was a lot to take in, and her kind was never good with such things.

"Look, I don't think the way I feel about you is the same as you feel about me. I think it's probably best if we just kind of keep it under control. Stay together but-"

He stopped as she moved her arms up and down slightly, hesitating each time. Then she took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and stepped towards him. He was about to ask what was wrong before he felt an arm wrap around his torso, another around his shoulder, and was lifted off his feet. His face was thrust into Ellens left shoulder, a squeezing sensation running through his body.

"Ian," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Or think. I-I still don't know much about how to feel or-ah, I don't know. I should have said something. If I knew how much just me saying hello would have helped, I would have. I keep letting you down and I either get hung up on it or don't realize."

He was too busy trying to make sense of everything that was happening before he could respond as she continued.

"I… don't know if we can really be together, like how Maria and her husband are. But I won't leave. I'm certain of that, as I said. I really don't know what to say, but-"

Her voice tapered off, not able or sure what to say. Before she tried, Ian's arms wrapped around her as he buried his face into her shoulder.

"As long as you're with me, I don't care," he whimpered.

"I won't promise anything. And I don't know what to do, or what I need to do, or what you would want-"

He squeezed her tighter, making her stop.

"I just need you to be here. That's-that's enough," he stammered, before he finally broke down.

Years of misery, months of grief, it all finally boiled over as he burst into hitching sobs, unable to control himself. Eleanor stayed still, uncomfortable at the display of sudden, unhidden emotion, but her experience with Ian, always in control even in the worst of it, told her that she could not leave, and certainly not let go. She just held onto him as he let everything out, and it took everything she had to stay and not waver for a single moment, no matter how awkward it made her feel. She never had someone cry into her shoulder before. It was definitely unique.

XXXXXX

Neither of them spoke much as they drove home. Maybe it was because they had nothing to say, or they were unwilling to. He had cleaned himself up fairly well, and to anyone observing, except for his shirt, nothing was different from the moment they left. As they pulled back to the farmhouse, Ian turned the Spade off before tapping the steering wheel and turning to Ellen.

"We don't talk about-"

"No."

"Alright. Let's get inside. Maybe we'll be lucky and Unc got back to drinking."

They stepped out of the truck, grabbing their belongings before walking inside. The pop of a Champagne cork made the two cringe, especially given the events of the last week.

"Christ!" Ian spat, nearly diving behind a couch.

"Boy! Eleanor! You're back, just in time to celebrate!"

"Celebrate what?" she asked, lifting Ian up as he shook his head.

Unc pointed to the television, the ticker at the bottom rushing along to almost unreadable levels before he unmuted it.

"...and I will say, the Prime Minister is as happy as I am at the news."

The voice and face of President Spencer filled the room, the pair of soldiers watching in slight confusion before Michael Bawden's professional news anchor voice followed.

"That statement made by the president shortly after the announcement that the Colonial Administration Authority plans to federate Dzimba with two other colonies was a plan and not meant to be implemented. The CAA officially stated that the plan "Was determined as a simple suggestion and was never meant to be a serious course of action." In other news, a man killed in a hit and run accident in the New Cashel Valley was determined to be a commander of the Dzimban Liberation Front after a statement by the organization was released today. It reportedly declared that the man in question had "Overstepped his bounds and was no longer suitable for command." Victoria Mguni reports."

Ian stared at the tv, processing what he just heard. He sighed and lowered his head for a moment, thankful that the worst had, in several ways that day, come to pass. He looked back at Unc, who was pouring champagne in glasses before stopping to look at him.

"Where's your shirt?"

"Got torn up."

"What!"

"We took care of it, nothing serious," she said quickly.

"Aye, I'd believe that," he said with a chuckle, handing the two full glasses of champagne.

He was not sure that she drank, but it was a celebration of good news, wasn't it? She took the glass with no argument and joined the other two as they toasted what was hoped to be a long peace.

"Well, I guess we won't be needing you two to run out and fight for our independence, do we?"

"I don't know if I'd fight anyway," Eleanor said, her face turning sour at the taste of the drink to Ian's amusement.

"Dunno if I would either. I do know that Archie Spencer and the others certainly won't be happy."

"Well, I guess I'll have to deal with the fact you two are still living with me."

Ian nearly spat out his drink at the statement.

"Living with you?"

"Yeah, I run the house-"

"Ellen, hold me back before I beat this old bugger for spewing nonsense."

She slapped a hand on his shoulder as he made a slight lunge towards his uncle, who backed off.

"Bloody hell boy, you haven't even drank a lot and you're already a menace!"

"You should know that by now, old man," he chuckled.

"And after I made you all dinner."

"Well, were you sober when you-"

Ellen slapped the back of his head trying to keep the peace which he accepted, if somewhat unhappily.

"To peace!" Unc cried as he pulled the perfectly cooked Shepherd's Pie from the oven.

The two soldiers looked at it, unable to refuse the offer. Peace was one thing, but as they gorged themselves on lamb meat and whipped potatoes, the two held each other's hand under the table as Ian told jokes and old stories, Ellen trying to act respectable in front of her Greek teacher. They had other reasons to celebrate that day, all the while Artemis was snuck more than what she probably should have by her Spartan protector.

XXXXXX

Ian was never much of a side sleeper, and given what had happened during the day, he was, for all intents and purposes, an insomniac. The party had ended fairly quickly, Unc wanting to get rest from doing… something, all day, and Ellen wanting to be alone for a bit. There was a part of him that hoped she would stay out and about to talk more, especially since they could be together in private, but he realized that maybe it was for the best. After all, this was a bit of a rush job, was it not? She had not pushed him away, but he could only imagine how she was dealing with even half of what he was thinking about. He opened his eyes and stared at the wall again, trying to gather his thoughts when a slight knock came at the door.

"Yeah?"

"It's me."

Ian sat up instantly. There was a part of him that was praying this would happen, but there was still a bit of unease, maybe fear.

"Come in."

The door opened, Ellen stepping inside, wearing essentially the same thing he was. She was hugging a pillow across her chest as a familiar puff of fur was not far behind.

"What's up?"

"I… want to stay here for the night. I think after what happened, it's acceptable to do so."

"Yeah! Er-yeah. If you want to sleep on top of the covers, that's-"

He had barely finished before she had placed her pillow next to his, lifted the covers to slide under them, and turned to face him. His mouth quickly went dry, almost unable to speak. He slowly sunk back into his pillow, facing away from her.

"G-good night."

"Good night, Ian."

For a few nervous minutes, his mind raced to figure out what to do, but he was almost paralyzed as a result of her quick action. He started to understand how the average Split-Lip felt having to face her. Should he turn over and face her? Say something? Do something? Was she inviting him to-

"Ian?"

"S-sorry, what?"

"Could you lift yourself up a bit on your side?"

He did so automatically, not thinking how odd of a request this was. But as he did and was about to ask, he felt an arm dart between the gap, wrapping around his torso, another around his shoulder. Before he could yell or speak, he was pulled straight into her. Her skin was against his, the abnormally large heart thudding through his entire back. If he was off balance before, he was completely off axis now. A few more awkward minutes passed before he decided to make his own move.

"Ellen?"

"Yes?"

"Loosen your grip."

"I meant no harm," she said apologetically, doing as he asked. "I thought-"

He twisted around, facing and wrapping his arms in a similar fashion around her. He squeezed tightly into an embrace, his chin at the top of her cleavage (which he tried to ignore) and his face at her neck. He could feel her breath on his hair, her muscular arms around him, her skin against his. His mind was nearly breaking from the mixture of nerves, peace, and tenderness he felt, as much as a Spartan possibly could give. He let go and pushed back slightly, looking into her eyes. Her face was serene, still rather blank, but he could tell that she was definitely thinking something.

"Ian," she whispered.

"Ellen," he replied, before moving himself slightly to be level with her face.

He took a few short breaths and closed his face in on hers, closing his eyes as he did so. He could not see her reaction, one of surprise and slight nervousness, realizing what he was about to do. Of course, she was not some completely hopeless basket case, she had been given enough aid and tips to know what he was about to do. Her body tried to react and respond to this sudden show of emotion, but her mind fought it tooth and nail. Whatever happened next was going to be allowed, no matter what the conditioning and training wanted her to. Then, his lips inches away from hers, his eyes shot open, his mouth agape, an involuntary mix of pain and shock.

"Ian? What's wrong!"

"Artemis," he grunted. "She's digging her claws in my side."

She looked to the feline in question who was sitting on top of him and kneading, talon-like protrusions sticking into him.

"Ouch," she said flatly. "I… think she's telling us we've done enough today."

"Agre-EED," he hissed as she finished with one last dig into him.

"Good night. For real this time."

"Good night, Ellen."

They still held each other, but it did not take long for Ian to say one last thing.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"Did I actually offer you a place here? When I was out of it?"

She stayed still, trying to think of an answer before deciding on honesty.

"No. I lied about that. I… apologize."

He let out a sigh, the outburst of breath so close to her she trembled slightly at the sensation.

"You never had to ask. You just needed to show up."

"Thanks, Ian."

"Of course."

Half an hour or so after that, he drifted off into the first decent sleep he had felt in six years. But as he finally got that, Ellen, certain he would not notice her moving, quietly pulled a datapad hidden in her pillow. She quietly typed out a message to a certain individual back on Earth, knowing that with time zones and the vast depths of space it had to cross, it would be a while before it received a response. It was not grammatically excellent, but the recipient would be too busy enjoying the words to notice.

E: i did it