Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum
By Portrait of a Scribe

"Sweet moment so tender, that flees with our pleasure,/ To Cupid now render his full flowing measure./ Let life be flowering bloom while it may,/ Time, overpowering, soon claims his day./ Let us sing then! Let bells ring, then!/ Days of youth are happy and free./ Happiness lost cannot ever return,/ No, no, never return!"
-Jean Baptiste de Lully, "Bel Tempo Che Vola"

Epilogue.

2046 A.D. - ? - ? hours

Reaper was dead silent. Tank was dead silent. So was the rest of the squad, for that matter.

It had all started out innocently enough. They had gone on leave for the week, and Tank had suggested that they start things out with a movie she had found that looked like it was good, if a chick-flick. Reaper had agreed with some feigned reluctance, though he was simply happy to spend time with his wife, and the rest of them, having had little better to do since it wasn't nighttime and the bars weren't open, yet, decided to humor Tank and sit down with them.

The movie was an old one from the early 2000s, called Sweet November, starring Charlize Theron and Keanu Reaves. Tank had seen a few scenes of it when she was a child, and she had remembered it as a good, if dramatic, movie.

However, by the time that the ending scene had rolled around, Reaper had walked out of the room while Tank stared, transfixed and horrified, as Theron's character, Sara Deever, had tied her scarf in a blindfold around Reeves' character, Nelson Moss' eyes and then walked away for a tearful goodbye. For a long time, there was utter silence in the room- you could've heard a pin drop. Then Tank wordlessly shut off the movie, got up, and went to leave the room. Now, at the door, she paused, her hand on the doorframe, and spoken over her shoulder to the rest of the team without even turning her head.

"Guys… I'm sorry," she said softly, and then she left the rec room and headed down the hall to the kitchen, where she could see Reaper leaning against the counter.

Indeed, he was leaning heavily against the counter next to the sink, his knuckles white where he was clutching the edge of the surface, but his breathing was steady. Tank stared at him for a long moment. Then she came up to him and wormed her way between him and the counter until she was trapped within the circle of his arms, staring up into his hazel eyes.

What could she say to the pain she saw there? The movie had paralleled their situation to a haunting degree, so much so that it had chilled Tank's blood. Would there ever come a time when she was so close to death that she pushed her husband away? Would there ever come a time when she could no longer stand to have her loved ones around her, for the fear that they would remember her as a withering cripple? She could see her thoughts echoed in Reaper's eyes, and as she looked up at him, she knew that she would never do that to them.

She would never have the strength or weakness to do that to them.

So, instead of saying anything, Tank simply reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck with a carefully-measured breath, blinking dry eyes and simply feeling tired. It took a few minutes, but Reaper eventually returned the embrace, his grip firm but not uncomfortably tight.

They stood there like that for a long, long time, but neither of them shed any tears. They had done that so many times that it seemed pointless at the moment.

"I love you, John," Tank whispered at length. Reaper did not respond for a long moment, until he finally squeezed her and buried his nose in her hair.

"I love you, too, Amanda."

Because what else was there to say?

2047 A.D. - Barrow, Alaska - 1000 hours

CRASH!

Reaper and Sam came running into the kitchen, alarm bare on their faces, to see Tank's shell-shocked expression as she clutched the edge of the counter. The shards of what had been her favorite coffee mug lay scattered at her feet.

Reaper rushed to his wife, who was six months pregnant, unmindful of the ceramic that crunched beneath the soles of his boots, and grabbed her shoulders, his eyes scanning her up and down. Tank looked up at him, her own eyes wide.

"What happened?" he demanded. Tank blinked, and finally seemed to notice the shattered mug. She absently laid a hand upon her belly, swollen from her pregnancy.

"She kicked," Tank whispered, her eyes still wide. "She kicked, John. It startled me so bad I dropped my cup..."

She trailed off, and then frowned when the realization hit her of what she was seeing. "That was my favorite mug, too..."

Reaper just gazed at her in awe and consternation, until she suddenly jerked with a gasp. Her sight traveled to her belly again.

"Mercy, she's active today," she breathed. Reaper followed her gaze, his own eyes wide and wondering. It only took a second for him to shift his hand from her shoulder to her belly. Sam's hand soon joined Reaper's after the blond woman crossed the ceramic-riddled floor to them.

Three gasps of surprise echoed into the room a second later when the baby kicked again.

"My God," Reaper whispered, placing his other hand on Tank's belly. Her flesh was firm underneath the thin layer of fat that she had put on. "This is almost surreal."

"Tell me about it," Tank groused dryly. "And I'm the one carrying her."

Reaper was about to reply when the phone suddenly started ringing. Sighing, he moved to pick it up while Tank and Sam conversed quietly about the new developments. Tank kept one eye on her husband, watching his expression. She quieted when she saw him blink.

"Duke?" he queried, and Sam silenced herself, also, the attention of both women rapt upon Reaper's face. They could hear Duke's voice from the receiver.

"Reaps, you gotta get outta there!" Duke was exclaiming. Reaper frowned.

"What? Why?" he inquired. "What's going on?"

"They know you're alive," Duke said. His voice was grim. "They tracked you down somehow, and they know that you're superhuman. They're heading your way right now."

Tank's heart pounded in her breast. "How long until they get here?"

Reaper repeated the question into the phone.

"Midnight at the latest."

"Shit!" Reaper swore softly, and glanced at the clock. "Duke, we gotta go. We'll try to call you when we've gotten settled."

"Right," Duke stated. "Take care, Reaper. Neither me or the Kid want to hear that you've gotten captured or killed."

"Don't worry about us, Duke," Reaper said. "Bye."

"Bye."

And, just like that, the conversation ended, as though their world hadn't just been turned upside-down. Reaper hung up the phone and immediately dashed off for their bedrooms. Tank and Sam followed him, granted at a slower pace.

The next few minutes were spent packing up what few items of clothing that they had accumulated into a pair of seabags. Tank and Reaper packed their equipment from their Marine days at the bottom of their bag, and then each of them packed a spare set of clothes. At the last moment, Tank shoved her bunny slippers and fleece blanket onto the top of the pile. Then Reaper stuck in a blanket and a few pairs of warm pajama pants and shirts.

Five minutes after they got the call, Tank rushed as quickly as she could out to the kitchen, filling water bottles, gathering a little food, and accumulating other supplies to pack into a small bag that would fit into her and Reaper's seabag. Reaper and Sam joined her a few seconds later, and Tank packed up the supplies.

They donned their cold-weather gear and left the house for the last time a total of ten minutes after Duke's warning.

Tank stopped at their neighbors' house to tell them something. She basically mentioned that the three of them had been called back home due to a family emergency, and that they weren't sure when they would be back. She asked them to take care of the house until she, Reaper, and Sam could come back.

Two minutes later, they were on their way out of Barrow, headed for the area where they had first discovered their abilities months beforehand.

"Where will we go?" Sam asked as she and Reaper ran. Tank looked over at her sister-in-law from where she was cradled in Reaper's arms.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe we should head north, crest the top of the world, and head toward Russia."

"There's an idea," Reaper muttered. "Go back to that place where you were tortured."

"John!" Tank scolded softly. "Not that place! And certainly not at this stage in the game. Let's go someplace a little more populated, this time. Blend into the crowds."

"St. Petersburg?" suggested Sam. Tank shrugged.

"I was thinking maybe someplace in Italy," she replied. "Tuscany, perhaps."

"Ooh, that sounds nice," Sam said. "But won't we get caught again?"

"It's likely that we'll be found wherever we go," Reaper deadpanned. His voice held such certainty that the two women were silenced. "We can't exactly escape UAC."

Soon enough, they reached a safe place, and Reaper handed his seabag to Sam to carry while he readjusted his hold on Tank. Then he and his sister lifted off, flying low over the ground. They headed east for a number of miles until they were sure they wouldn't be spotted by anybody in Barrow.

Then they turned northward.

Tank sighed quietly and turned to bury her nose in Reaper's neck as the arctic winds whipped around them. She only looked back once at the place where they had made their home. She was going to miss it.

It's only been a little under a year since the incident. How long are we going to have to run? she wondered.

The only answer she got was that of the whistling wind.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doom. I only own Tank... and her baby. :)

And so the end... for now. Then again, I always say that, but at the moment, I really don't have any ideas for the sequel. I'd originally done a Superman-veined one, but that one ran into a dead end. So I guess I'll just have to leave it up to your imaginations what happens next.

I probably will continue this, someday when I get back into the swing of things as far as Doom goes. As far as plot ideas, I actually have the most pertaining to a Star Trek 2009 crossover... like everyone else out there does, lol. Who knows what'll come out of my warped brain next?

Thank you to everybody who reviewed the last chapter! Crye 4 Me, powergirl24, Kakashi-luver, and HellgirlAngel, you guys are awesome! I'm glad that you all loved the last chapter so much. And yes, Reaper is just about the happiest person on the face of the planet. :) Or, he was until Duke's most recent phone call... Damn UAC. Grrr.

Until the next time!

-Portrait of a Scribe