MORNING & WAITING
The next morning, Hannah was surprisingly not awoken by her child, but by her husband. His battle-scarred hands shook her, gentle, but insistent. Bleary-eyed, she caught sight of his grinning face over hers. She groaned and scrunched up her nose. “Cain, it’s too-”
“First off,” his thick Southern accent was gruffer than usual and he kept his voice low, “you look absolutely stunnin’ right now. Hair down and all over. A damn beauty.” She scowled at him, raising a hand to knock his jaw lightly. He took it like a champ and with a million watt grin. “And second, hush up and look at Janey.”
It took Hannah a few moments to recall that Jane had slept with them last night (she probably got a few bruises from where the spitfire kicked her) but,she turned her head once she got her bearings. Instantly, she melted. Like an angel, Jane was fast asleep, head tucked along the curve of her mother's outer bicep, her unruly red hair already a knotted mess. Her cheeks were flushed a glowing pink and her thick dark lashes rested heavily against her pale skin.
“She never looks that happy when she’s asleep. Says she dreams bad things about you. Worries herself into a frightful mess.” Cain’s voice was soft and somber.
Oh. Hannah rolled to her side all while never looking away from her baby. She knew her daughter had a big heart, but to hear that she kept her own daughter from sleeping… that tore her. She was touched, really, but all the same felt horrible. Her daughter shouldn’t worry her own mother’s safety at this age. She should be worried about her friends and what game they are to play the next day, or if boys really do have cooties. Hannah brushed aside the strand of red that stuck to Jane’s drooling mouth. “Is it selfish that I like hearing that?” She muttered to herself. Cain placed a steady hand on her shoulder and somehow that told her his silent answer.
She sighed and got out of bed, Cain a step behind. He was always like that - when he had been on the field, he always had her six. Never had she felt safer than when he was her shadow. The past few years on the field hadn’t been the same. Without Cain lingering over her shoulder, his sharp eyes and steady hand, she felt a little unsafe. She understood that his injury prevented him from moving like he used to and that his weakness would put her team in danger, but not a day went by that she didn’t wish it were him with her instead of her faceless comrades.
As she grabbed a towel, she watched Cain shake out his tight hip. She could remember the mission that took him off duty. It was a desert planet, she remembered. Turians had surrounded her squad. The abominations had caught their scent on the wind and followed it back to their camp. It was all wrong - her squad was suppose to find them, not the other way around. The aliens had fallen upon them at night and Hannah could still recall the sick turian bastard that had dragged her from her sleeping bag. All hell had broken loose and thankfully, she had gotten her victory. Cain had fallen, but the others remained intact. He had stupidly jumped in front of the gun of one of the aliens when it went to shoot the freshest of the boys. If it weren’t for Cain, Hannah had no doubt she would have had to send a body back to mourn.
The water of the shower was relaxing on her scarred skin and the pitter-patter drowned out all other thoughts. She was lulled back to her memories. War. Blood. Comrades dead in her arms. It wasn’t until two very familiar hands ghosted against her waist did she snap out of it. Cain pressed his lips to her shoulder with a grin. “Hey.”
She leaned against him, the water a steady sound in the background. “Hey yourself.” He chuckled and embraced her. Together, they remembered better things in their own world as Jane slept on in bliss.