Chapter Text
They were married in a blast crater on Fumirole, in the shadow of a burned out Wraith, by the only Catholic chaplain for fifteen light-years in any direction. Not exactly the big cathedral wedding that Aunt Lucia wanted for her darling niece, but Talia had never been the kind of girl who cared about the form of the wedding over the substance of the marriage.
Vannak had made them both rings - perfectly sized, like he’d seen this coming for a while now - made from the same titanium carbide composite as the outer layers of Mjolnir armor. Not flashy, but unbreakable. Like her and John.
Talia Perez pulled their wedding photo off the wall of the study; tapered, pretty face splitting into a wide grin at the memories. She was in her SPI armor, camouflage systems deactivated and outer carapace freshly polished so at least she was in something white. John stripped down to his techsuit, so he was in something black. That was her sixth deployment with Silver Team; nearly a year into her time with the Spartan Auxiliary, when they’d proven that the concept worked and Spartans and non-augmented personnel could synergize in the field.
She bent to lovingly place the framed photo in the cardboard box at her feet and rose too quickly to grab another one, and hissed as the scar on her side caught. Talia grimaced, as much at the memory of her first deployment with Silver Team as the pain in her flank. She slipped a hand under her OD green tank top and pressed her palm against the raised, glossy scar tissue that stretched from her bottom right rib down to the top of her hip bone.
The pain lanced up into her ribs, but Talia was used to it by now. It had been three years since that day on the Covenant corvette when she’d been hit, bounding through a doorway as Javelin Platoon stormed the bridge. A glancing blow, to be sure, but it had still blasted through her thin SPI armor and left her flank a bloody mess. Kai had dragged her, screaming a battlecry and dual-wielding needlers, out of the fight and into cover.
That one had cost them Okada, Fahradi, Shang, Swain, and Christensen. She’d woken up on a CASEVAC Condor under the worried eyes of Mullins, her platoon leader, and told by the Navy combat surgeons that she had her ticket home. One flash-cloned replacement kidney, three feet of resected small intestine, and two months of physical therapy later and she had her medical discharge papers from the UNSC Marine Corps.
The nightmares stopped when John held her. When he was around to do so, at least, and not deployed to one world or another taking advantage of the Great Schism presently tearing apart the Covenant.
Talia came back to reality as she heard the front door open, and John’s long, sure strides coming down the hallway to the soon-to-be nursery. His bulk filled the door frame and he smiled that subtle, ghost of a smile that after four years of marriage Talia knew to be his equivalent of a grin. He flourished the paper bag in his arms, emblazoned with the logo of the local hardware store, and produced three small sample cans of paint.
“Canary Yellow, Sky Blue, and Rosemount Pink; as requested, ma’am.”
Talia grinned a wide, contented grin. “You follow orders well, babe.”
“Wives outrank admirals.”
Talia padded barefoot across the soft carpet and placed her palm over his heart, feeling his dog tags under his shirt. It’d taken her three years to convince him to wear civvies; real civvies, not just the green liberty fatigues the Navy issued Spartans. He’d developed a liking for flannel work shirts, and tended to leave the house these days looking like a lumberjack. Which somehow made the fact that he was a full head and then some taller than his wife all the more appropriate.
John’s long arms engulfed Talia’s petite frame, pulling her into a firm, lingering hug. She smiled against his flanneled chest, as his fingers crept up her midline, grazing a breast beneath her tank top, and tipping her chin upwards. He always had to stoop, just a little, to meet her lips. Talia’s hand swept up over his shoulder, her fingertips grazing his neck, and she shivered at the thought of what she intended to do to him that night.
John straightened up to his full height, his dinner plate-sized hands settling on her hips, and he held her gaze; hazel meeting umber like a thousand times before. “You always kiss me like it’s the first time.”
Talia blushed, dipping her head and smiling demurely. Somehow, he still brought out the blushing bride in her, even after four years of marriage. “If you keep sweet-talking me like that, we’re going to end up making this baby instead of getting the nursery ready. C’mon babe, help me move these boxes. I think we can - “
A chime sounded over the house sound system, Olly Olly Oxen Free. A pair of heartbeats elapsed, and Cortana appeared as a three-foot avatar in a flurry of iridescent blue snowflakes. Something in her countenance froze John and Talia on the spot. They’d known Cortana for years, and she’d always ranged from playfully sassy to dispassionately professional.
This was the first time they’d ever seen her look dour.
And the first time she didn’t have a snappy quip to open the conversation with. John was immediately worried. Talia looked between her husband and his AI companion, and her smile disappeared. She broke the silence herself.
“Hello, Cortana. How are you?”
Cortana brought her holographic eyes to meet the eyes of her best friend’s wife, her face heavy with heartbreak.
“John, Talia… I have the results of the scans from the OB-GYN. You two should sit down.”